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Page 55.

28. Belair—Breakfast and Decisions

After a refreshing shower, Rick and Hannah sat in the pleasant light of a wide picture window. They were in the living room of the Poncelets' compact house. The Luxembourgeois couple really made the best of every square meter. "I can see you are an architect," Hannah said to Romain as she stirred her coffee.

"What do you mean?" He was a pleasant, easy-going man of thirty, with intense, intelligent dark eyes, wavy black hair combed back over the ears and falling to his shoulders. Rick assessed him as an avid sportsman, probably Fussball, cycling, all those European things. He imagined that a woman would find Romain intriguing.

As they four sat together, Rick and Hannah sat thigh-to-thigh on a love seat overlooking a coffee table. A chill window overlooked greenery—trees, shrubs, some roses outside. As usual, it was drizzling lightly, though it was early summer. Hannah kept a hand on Rick's thigh, as if guarding him and holding him and possessing him. Unable to resist passion, he put his arm around her. He kissed her passionately during a moment when Romain went to the kitchen and Mélusine ran to the klo for a tinkle. Hannah whispered, "I'm going to take you home with me to California when we're done with all this crazy stuff."

"I'm ready," he whispered. "We'll get it done."

"Operative word is we," she said. "I'll stick by you no matter what happens."

He choked on the words he wanted to say, me too, forever.

Shortly, they were all four together again, buttering rolls, pouring steaming black coffee, scraping the bottom of a glass orange marmelade jar, all the homey things that were so little and yet so important.

"Thank you," Hannah said.

"Gär geschitt," Mélusine said. Glad to be there for you.

Rick added, "We are so grateful."

Romain nodded and gave him a light man-punch on the upper arm. "It's okay, dude," he said in a comical imitation U.S. accent. He and Rick man-laughed together, deep and throaty.

Hannah put her arm possessively over Rick's back as she said to Mélusine, "I was such a lost soul in Shanghai."

Mélusine was a pretty brunette with darker blue eyes than Hannah. Hers was the sort of athletic tennis player face with broad cheek bones and a tapering lower jaw that Rick associated with sports news. Mélusine's voice, too, had a full, strong quality like someone who was used to competing and probably winning. A glance at Romain told Rick that Mélu's husband was perfectly in tune with that. Mélu was one of those women who moved in a somewhat side-to-side sportsy way, a real gamine, a buddy girl. Hannah was grateful she and Hannah had hit it off during Hannah's servitude and Mélusine's contract work for Wan Industries in Shanghai.

"Tell me again how did you two meet?" Romain asked.

Rick savored sliced, German-style salami on brownish Luxembourg farm bread with butter. This went with strong black coffee like sports and beer. Mélu moved her head in quick little sideways motions that made tiny muscles in her neck ripple. "It was pretty scary, actually."

"Oh god," Hannah said at the memory, rolling her eyes. She wrapped herself around Rick, pulling tightly. He patted her hands.

Mélu said, "One day, I was sitting on the patio of this condo place I was sharing with three other women. We were all engineering workers with Wan Industrial. I heard this shrieking of women and I thought what can that be all about? There were trees and bushes all around, in the middle of Shanghai in this park owned by Wan with his palace in the middle. Next thing I know, this Caucasian girl comes running, dressed only in a white robe and looking terrified. Well, as one woman to another woman, I didn't ask questions. I let her in and closed the sliding glass door."

Hannah added, "I found a closet and hid inside."

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