glasses, and opened the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked after a long pause.
“We came to help,” Henry told her quietly.
She looked from one to the other, confusion the only emotion she could readily label. “Both of you?”
“Both of us,” Celluci agreed.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
They exchanged identical expressions and Celluci sighed. “We know,” he said.
“Vicki?”
All three of them turned.
Mr. Delgado stood just outside his door, weight forward on the balls of his feet, shoulders back, arms loose at his sides, trousers pulled on under a striped pajama top. “Is there a problem?”
Vicki shoved at her glasses. The completely truthful answer would be, Not yet. “No,” she said. “No problem. These are friends of mine from Toronto.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Apparently,” her voice grew less vague with every word, “they came to help.”
“Oh.” His gaze swept over Celluci from head to toe and then began on Henry. For Vicki’s sake, Henry kept a grip on his annoyance and let the old man finish. “Well, if there’s any trouble,” the last two words were a warning, “you let me know.”
“I can handle these two, Mr. Delgado.”
“I don’t doubt it. But you shouldn’t have to. Not right now.” His chin jutted forward. “You boys understand?”
Celluci’s patience showed signs of wear. “We understand, Mr. Delgado.”
“Both of you?”
Henry turned a little farther until he faced down the hall. “We both understand.”
Mr. Delgado squinted at Henry then almost seemed to come to attention. “Had to ask . . .”
“I know.”
“Well, good night.”
Henry inclined his head in dismissal. “Good night.”
The three of them watched as the door closed and then Vicki stepped back out of the way. “You might as well come in.”
“. . . did it never occur to either of you that maybe I wanted to handle this myself?” Vicki paced the length of the living room, reached the window, and glared out into the night. The apartment was half a story below ground, not exactly basement, not exactly first floor. The windows looked out over a narrow strip of grass, then the visitor’s parking, then the sidewalk, then the road. It wasn’t much of a view. Vicki’s mother had invested in both blinds and heavy drapes to keep the world from looking back. Vicki hadn’t bothered closing either. “That maybe,” she continued, her throat tight, “there isn’t anything for you to help with?”
“If you want both of us, or either of us, to go back to Toronto, we will,” Henry told her quietly.
Celluci shot him a look and his mouth opened, but Henry raised a cautionary hand and he closed it again without speaking.
“I want both of you to go back to Toronto!”
“No, you don’t.”
Her laugh held the faintest shading of hysteria. “Are you reading my mind, Henry?” She turned to face them. “All right, you win. As long as you’re here, you might as well stay.” One hand sketched surrender in the air. “You might as well both stay.”
“How did you convince Mike to go to sleep?”
“I merely told him that you’d need him rested tomorrow, that I was the logical choice to keep watch over the night.”
“Merely?”
“Well, perhaps I persuaded him a little.”
She sat on the edge of the twin bed in the room she’d grown up in and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of the pillow with the fingers of one hand. “He won’t thank you for that in the morning.”
“Perhaps not.” Henry watched her carefully, not allowing the full extent of his concern to show lest it cause her to bolt. “But I did explain that it was a little difficult for either of us to give comfort when both of us were there. He seemed to agree.” He had, in fact, grunted, “ So leave .” but Henry saw no need to mention that to Vicki.
“All of that while I was in the bathroom?”
“Should it have taken longer?”
“I guess not.”
He’d been
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked after a long pause.
“We came to help,” Henry told her quietly.
She looked from one to the other, confusion the only emotion she could readily label. “Both of you?”
“Both of us,” Celluci agreed.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
They exchanged identical expressions and Celluci sighed. “We know,” he said.
“Vicki?”
All three of them turned.
Mr. Delgado stood just outside his door, weight forward on the balls of his feet, shoulders back, arms loose at his sides, trousers pulled on under a striped pajama top. “Is there a problem?”
Vicki shoved at her glasses. The completely truthful answer would be, Not yet. “No,” she said. “No problem. These are friends of mine from Toronto.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Apparently,” her voice grew less vague with every word, “they came to help.”
“Oh.” His gaze swept over Celluci from head to toe and then began on Henry. For Vicki’s sake, Henry kept a grip on his annoyance and let the old man finish. “Well, if there’s any trouble,” the last two words were a warning, “you let me know.”
“I can handle these two, Mr. Delgado.”
“I don’t doubt it. But you shouldn’t have to. Not right now.” His chin jutted forward. “You boys understand?”
Celluci’s patience showed signs of wear. “We understand, Mr. Delgado.”
“Both of you?”
Henry turned a little farther until he faced down the hall. “We both understand.”
Mr. Delgado squinted at Henry then almost seemed to come to attention. “Had to ask . . .”
“I know.”
“Well, good night.”
Henry inclined his head in dismissal. “Good night.”
The three of them watched as the door closed and then Vicki stepped back out of the way. “You might as well come in.”
“. . . did it never occur to either of you that maybe I wanted to handle this myself?” Vicki paced the length of the living room, reached the window, and glared out into the night. The apartment was half a story below ground, not exactly basement, not exactly first floor. The windows looked out over a narrow strip of grass, then the visitor’s parking, then the sidewalk, then the road. It wasn’t much of a view. Vicki’s mother had invested in both blinds and heavy drapes to keep the world from looking back. Vicki hadn’t bothered closing either. “That maybe,” she continued, her throat tight, “there isn’t anything for you to help with?”
“If you want both of us, or either of us, to go back to Toronto, we will,” Henry told her quietly.
Celluci shot him a look and his mouth opened, but Henry raised a cautionary hand and he closed it again without speaking.
“I want both of you to go back to Toronto!”
“No, you don’t.”
Her laugh held the faintest shading of hysteria. “Are you reading my mind, Henry?” She turned to face them. “All right, you win. As long as you’re here, you might as well stay.” One hand sketched surrender in the air. “You might as well both stay.”
“How did you convince Mike to go to sleep?”
“I merely told him that you’d need him rested tomorrow, that I was the logical choice to keep watch over the night.”
“Merely?”
“Well, perhaps I persuaded him a little.”
She sat on the edge of the twin bed in the room she’d grown up in and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of the pillow with the fingers of one hand. “He won’t thank you for that in the morning.”
“Perhaps not.” Henry watched her carefully, not allowing the full extent of his concern to show lest it cause her to bolt. “But I did explain that it was a little difficult for either of us to give comfort when both of us were there. He seemed to agree.” He had, in fact, grunted, “ So leave .” but Henry saw no need to mention that to Vicki.
“All of that while I was in the bathroom?”
“Should it have taken longer?”
“I guess not.”
He’d been
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