She slipped off her high heels and tiptoed to the guest room where she’d made camp. When she opened the door to her room, a light was on, and Sabine was asleep on the chaise longue with an open book about Modigliani on her lap.
Casey hung her handbag on the doorknob.
Sabine stirred from sleep. “Hello,” she said, pushing the bangs off her face. “What time is it?”
Casey checked her watch. “One-twelve.”
“You coming from work?”
“Where else?” she replied. Why was Sabine sleeping in her room? If she didn’t want to sleep with Isaac, there were two other empty bedrooms in the apartment. “Is everything okay?”
Sabine sat upright, her body forming a right angle. She was fully alert. “And how is work?”
“It’s work.” Casey wouldn’t complain, refusing to provide ammunition for Sabine’s case against Kearn Davis.
“It’s very late, Casey.”
“I’m sorry, Sabine. I hope my stay hasn’t been too disruptive. It’s incredibly kind of you and Isaac to let me sleep here. I’m trying to figure out what to do about an apartment. I just haven’t had the time to—”
“No, no, sweetie. It was my idea for you to stay here till school starts. And you can stay on as long as you like. It’s just that we hardly see you. I thought I’d see you far more. I saw you once this past week—for like ten minutes in the kitchen before you went off to the office. What’s wrong with those people there? It’s inhumane how they make you work like that. And the idea of not giving every person who deserves an offer an offer. That’s no way to run a business. How about if every person who’s working with you is good? Then what? They create this situation where you have to cut people?” Sabine was on a tear. “And you hardly eat anything. You look terrible.”
The more she talked, the less Casey had to say. It was that way between them. And now she was a guest in Sabine’s house. Casey stowed away her shoes in the closet, taking care to be neat about it. She wanted to change out of her clothes but felt shy about undressing. Would Sabine leave her room soon? In the closet, beside her own clothes hung half a dozen suits Sabine no longer wore and had loaned her to wear to work. She was wearing one of Sabine’s sleeveless blouses at the moment with a gray skirt she’d bought years ago when she’d first moved out of her parents’ apartment. Casey had lost a few pounds and was able to wear Sabine’s things, but her arms were too long for Sabine’s jackets.
“Casey? What’s the matter, honey?” Sabine sounded concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
“You missing that guy? That gambler?”
“No,” Casey replied instantly. That wasn’t true, but she couldn’t tell Sabine that. She thought about him a lot. Worse, she felt awful about what she had done—the cheating and then the confession. On a week’s reflection, she’d concluded that both actions were heartless. That morning, she’d picked up the phone but couldn’t actually call him. All her things were still in his place, but asking about that now seemed cold. Sabine was dead-on: She missed him. As soon as she got an apartment, she’d contact him, she told herself. By September, he might hate her less, and she might have more nerve.
Casey stepped into the guest bathroom. She left the door ajar; Sabine was obviously percolating with more things to say. She changed into one of the two guest bathrobes Sabine had placed in there—the kind you covet at a fancy hotel. Her host wasn’t making any move to leave the room.
Casey began to wash her face. When she heard Sabine’s voice, she turned off the faucet.
“You cheated on him because you were angry at him.”
Casey frowned. Sabine had theories about everything. Casey wiped away the residual soap from her face with a towel and sat on her bed—arms folded, her back slouching. She smoothed down the Italian bedspread. The blue quilted fabric was beautiful.
“And why was I angry with him?” she asked.
“It’s obvious. He lost his job, wouldn’t get a new one, has a serious gambling addiction, and he doesn’t want to marry you.”
“I didn’t want to get married,” Casey said, unable to refute much else.
“That’s not the point, and you know it. He wasn’t thinking about the future, and you didn’t respect him for it.”
“Wow, a free room and free advice. Thank you.” Casey didn’t feel like being polite anymore. It was so damn late, and she wanted to sleep. She had to get up in a few hours. Karyn had given her a monster assignment that afternoon. “May I go to sleep now?”