She played “All Day and All of the Night” then put the Strat on its stand and went back upstairs. Behind the bathroom door came the drill’s revs and whirs. She took a copy of Roselore’s picture from her bedroom mirror. Curling up on her bed, she drank in the brown eyes and strong, wide smile, the tiny, milk teeth. She hoped her own brown eyes would comfort Roselore. Or would she see only difference? While the guitar had calmed Rudie, Roselore’s picture filled her with light.
She dialed Leo’s number.
“Where are you now?”
“In the parlour of the bed and breakfast, waiting for a receipt. Excited?”
“Am I! And scared. Leo?”
“Rudie?”
“You’ll be there, right? You’ve got your flight booked? All your arrangements?”
His voice held the same manic triumph as when she’d told him Roselore was
