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WHEN I WOKE UP WEDNESDAY morning, Donnie had already left for work. I rushed to the bathroom, but unfortunately, I was too late. Light shone from under the closed door, and I heard the subdued roar of the fan. I made myself a cup of coffee, then went back to the bedroom to lay out my clothes for that day. A button-front white silk blouse. Black pencil skirt. No, not this skirt, it’s too tight around the hips. Maybe I should move it to the skinny closet. These charcoal gray trousers would work. But they have the bulky button and zipper in front. They show through the white silk blouse. Maybe a different shirt would work better. This red knit, with the ruching across the belly? No. The ruching hides the bulky zipper, but the weather forecast said it would be in the high eighties today, and this particular color shows armpit stains visible from the International Space Station.
Donnie wonders why I can’t just go into my closet and grab any old top and bottom to wear together. He has no idea.
When I was nearly finished picking out my ensemble, I heard the bathroom door open. I pulled on a robe and rushed out to see Davison, wearing only grey cutoff sweatpants, pushing the bathroom door back and forth in a fanning motion.
“You might wanna light a match before you go in there.” He started back toward the guest room.
My bladder was aching, but I realized this might be my only chance to get information from him about Donnie’s Wednesday night plans.
“Davison, would you like a cup of coffee?”
He looked confused.
“What? Oh, sure. Really?”
“Of course. I always show hospitality to my guests.”
Davison seated himself at my kitchen counter. I pulled out my beloved sixteen-ounce Chicken Boy coffee cup, brewed a large portion of coffee into it, and handed it to him.
“Eh, Molly. Hope you don’t think I’m a guest. We’re family, ah?”
He was giving me the sad eyebrows again. Great. I guess I said the wrong thing again, and now Davison will complain to Donnie, and Donnie will be all disappointed in me and my maternal inadequacy.
“Of course we’re family. Drink your coffee.”
“Never slept over at your house before.” He pushed the heel of his hand up his face, as if to wipe away the remnants of sleep.
“Certainly not.”
“Kind of a trip.” He grinned. “Sleeping over at my teacher’s house. ’Cause you was my teacher, ah?”
“Yes, I was. So. Today is Wednesday. Anyone have any special plans for the day?”
“Nothing special. Maybe go work out.”
Davison gulped his coffee, holding the mug close to his face like a baby bottle. His slurping noises weren’t making my aching bladder feel any better. I just had to hold out for another minute or so to see what information I could worm out of him before he was off doing whatever occupied his days.
“Hey, so what about your dad? What’s he up to?”
Davison gave a one-shoulder shrug. The two-shoulder kind apparently cost too much effort.
“How about tonight?” I persisted. “Do you happen to know if your father has any plans for tonight?”
Davison set his coffee cup down. “How come you don’t ask him? I dunno nothing.”
“Look, Detective Medeiros said it looked like the fire was set on purpose. Remember?”
Davison nodded.
“Now, I was assuming someone was trying to intimidate me because of this biotech research, but no one’s come after Emma Nakamura, and she’s the other investigator on the grant.”
“But Professor Nakamura’s doing all the real science, ah?”
“Whatever. The point is it looks like Emma and I were not the target. So that leaves your father. He might be involved with something that’s put us all in danger.”
“You should just ask him, then.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, and took a deep, cleansing breath, just as I’d learned in yoga class.
“If your father is in the crosshairs of some nutjob for some reason, then this little house, where we’re all staying, is the next logical target. We were lucky last time. No one was home, and no one got hurt. But what if we’re not so fortunate next time?”
“Eh, Molly. This coffee taste good, ah? I can get some more?”
I snatched the mug from his outstretched hand. “Davison, this is serious. Where is your father going on Wednesday nights? Where?”
“Chill. I dunno. I think maybe he said he was gonna go up to the college.”
Now I knew where, but I still didn’t know what. All kinds of groups used the classrooms as meeting spaces in the off-hours. The rental income provided a much-needed infusion to our frail budget. It wasn’t like Donnie to get involved with a group of extremists, but then again, how well did I really know my husband? We’d only gotten married during the summer, and we were in the fall semester, barely at midterms.
“Do you know where at the college?” I asked. “Which room?”
“Shoot, I dunno. Eh, so how about that coffee?”
I couldn’t continue this conversation any longer.
“Here you go.” I banged the empty mug back down on the counter in front of him. “Coffee machine’s over there.”
“But Molly, I—”
I couldn’t hear the rest of his sentence through the closed bathroom door.