Free The City of Your Final Destination by Peter Cameron Page B

here,” said Arden. “I’ll take it around back later. Just grab your bags.”
    Omar took his bags and followed them through the door.
    Caroline was descending the stairs from the tower as Arden climbed them. Arden heard her and waited on the landing.
    â€œWho was that?” Caroline asked. “I saw you coming up the drive with a man.”
    â€œIt’s the biographer!” exclaimed Arden. “The one who wrote to us.”
    â€œWhat’s he doing here?” asked Caroline.
    â€œHe wants to talk to us. He wants us to reconsider. He’s come all the way from Kansas.”
    â€œHe’s come all this way for that?”
    â€œYes,” said Arden. “Apparently.”
    â€œIs he mad?”
    â€œApparently,” said Arden. “He took the night bus to Ansina and paid someone five hundred pesos to be driven here. And he has no place to stay.”
    â€œSo he’s staying here?”
    â€œAt least for tonight. What else could I do?”
    â€œNothing, I suppose. He’s not crazy in any dangerous sort of way, is he?”
    â€œNo,” said Arden. “Just misguided. He’s taking a bath. I told him we’d have dinner about seven-thirty. Should I call Adam?”
    â€œYes,” said Caroline. “No—wait. Maybe it would be better if
tonight it’s just us. Adam—well, you know Adam. It might be calmer if it’s just us, at least at first. With Adam things will be difficult.”
    â€œYes,” said Arden. “I was thinking the same.”
    â€œHave we got anything decent for dinner?”
    â€œI was going to make a risotto. And baked eggplant.”
    â€œWhat’s he like?” asked Caroline. “He looks dark. Is he African?”
    â€œNo. He’s Egyptian or something, I think.”
    â€œHow old would you say he is?”
    â€œOh,” said Arden. “It’s hard to tell. Twenty-five. Thirty? He must be desperate to have come all this way. Or crazy. I think he’s a little stunned.”
    â€œPerhaps he’s not very bright,” Caroline suggested.
    â€œI think he’s just addled. It’s probably coming on the night bus. He said he would sleep outdoors! Apparently he thought there would be a hotel in town. A Holiday Inn, no doubt.”
    â€œWell, it’s a new face at the table, if nothing else.” Caroline began to reclimb the stairs, but turned around. “Let’s have some decent wine tonight. I’m tired of plonk.”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œHow about champagne?”
    â€œChampagne? Won’t that give him the wrong idea?”
    â€œI don’t really care what idea we give him. It’s just an excuse to drink the champagne.”
    Arden was about to slice the eggplant when she heard the water draining out of the tub upstairs. She laid down her knife and then climbed the back stairs, and walked down the hall. The door was closed and she knocked.
    â€œYes,” Omar said.
    â€œIt’s me,” said Arden. “Arden Langdon.”

    She waited, and after a moment Omar opened the door. His hair was still wet and uncombed. He had on a clean pair of pants and a pressed shirt but was barefoot. The shirt was unbuttoned and a slice of his dark, hairy chest was exposed. He smelled clean and fresh.
    â€œHello,” he said. He had closed the shutters and the room behind him was dark. He had opened his suitcase on the bed. She noticed that it was neatly packed.
    â€œWas your bath all right? Was there enough hot water?”
    â€œYes,” said Omar. “Thank you.”
    â€œYou must be tired. Could you sleep on the bus?”
    â€œNot really,” said Omar. “But I don’t feel tired. I think it’s the excitement of being here. Of getting here. I wasn’t sure I would. In fact, for a while I was sure I wouldn’t. It isn’t an easy place to get to.”
    â€œYes,” said Arden. “I know.”