Page 6 of Samson

“How many times was your flight delayed?”

“In which state?”

“I can’t believe it took you four different stops to get from California to Virginia. That has got to be the most convoluted route ever.”

“Convoluted, maybe, but it was super cheap.”

“I could have bought you a better ticket.”

“You’re already doing enough for me.”

“And I’m even more sorry I couldn’t pick you up from the airport. If I didn’t have that delivery coming in today?—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Lots of people travel on the bus. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. It’s just been a while.”

His face crinkled like he wanted to say more, but he shook it off and said instead, “Let’s get you settled in, but then I haveto leave you to an afternoon of relaxation. I still have a lot to do before we open for dinner.”

“You need me tonight?”

“No way. I’m not going to make you work on your first night. You must be exhausted. I want you to rest up. You’ve got jet lag to get over too.”

“Thank you. I’m always surprised at how a three-hour time difference can mess you up for days.”

“I have rostered you on tomorrow, but it’s just training. If you need more time to settle in, you let me know.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want any special treatment.”

“That’s too bad, ’cause you’re going to get it. Follow me.”

He led her through the kitchen, where he introduced her to a couple of people. Then they went through a short hall, where he pointed at a door. “That closet is my office.”

“Closet?”

He stopped to open the door, and she peered inside. It was a small room that probably had been a large closet once upon a time.

She nodded. “I see.”

“It does the job I need it to.”

He pulled the door closed and continued to a narrow staircase. Her suitcase bumped the walls as she carried it up.

“The apartment’s not very big,” he said when they reached the top. “But you’ll be comfortable.”

“I hope you know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It wasn’t being used. I’d rather have someone in there than let it collect dust.”

He unlocked the door and ushered her into the apartment.

“Here we are.” He handed her the keys. “Home sweet home. I’m sure it’s much smaller than your last place. But it’s got everything you need.”

She stepped past him. “This is beautiful.” The room itself was basic, but someone had gone through a lot of trouble decorating it. A shelf in the kitchen was stacked with gold-rimmed plates, and a bowl of fruit had been placed on the small dining table.

The jewel-toned couch matched small accents in the room, and when she went to the bedroom to leave her suitcase, she saw the bed was covered in a stylish bedspread with an old-fashioned wardrobe against one wall.

When she returned to the living room, she ran her hand across a soft cream-colored blanket draped on the back of the couch.

“Maryanne Dupont is her name,” Luca said.

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