Brent shrugged and walked into the kitchen. Jeremiah followed him and watched as he poured himself the last of the coffee from the carafe.
“You didn’t want this, did you?”
“Does Scott go missing on a regular basis, then?” Jeremiah asked. “What if something happened here? What if there was an emergency or something?”
“There’s such a thing as cell phones, you know. I’m sure he hasn’t gone to the moon.” Brent put two sugars into his cup. “What’s the big deal?”
“Nothing,” Jeremiah told him. “I just think it’s odd that he isn’t here for two days. He’s in charge of all this. This is his show. Is he on vacation or something?”
Brent shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “I doubt it,” he said with some consideration. “I doubt he’s taken a vacation day in ten years. He’s probably just busy.”
Jeremiah leaned back against the counter and stared at Brent. “Do you think he’s sick or something?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” If Brent knew anything at all he showed no indication of it.
“He’s been acting strange lately,” Jeremiah said.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, like he’s nervous or something, like he’s got something on his mind.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Brent said. “He’s in charge of this whole thing, remember.”
“What if there’s a problem we don’t know about?”
“You’re imagining things.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think something’s wrong. And I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything I should know. Do you know anything?”
“Nothing, Jeremiah. Calm down. You’re reading too much into things that don’t matter. It seems like you’re the one with the problem.”
“Easy for you to say. Sorry, Brent, but you don’t have as much at stake as I do. And you’re not trapped in this room all day. If something’s going on, if something happened, I just think someone should let me know.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone from the outside found out what we’re doing and we’re all going to jail? Maybe he’s lost funding and has to put the brakes on the whole thing? How do I know? No one tells me anything around here. I’m asking you.”
“And I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about. If it were something like that, I would be told. Now, come on. The viewing’s about to start.”
“Would you tell me? If something happened?”
“Yes,” Brent said with an exaggerated sigh. “I’d tell you. Now can we get settled before the monitor comes on?” He walked into the living room, and Jeremiah followed him, satisfied that Brent didn’t know anything about Scott’s illness. At least, he thought, that meant Brent wasn’t in on it.
“I almost forgot,” Brent said before taking his usual spot on the couch. “I brought us something.” He unzipped his backpack and produced a white paper bag holding two absolutely mammoth chocolate-covered doughnuts. “Smuggled in something decent to eat.”
“Pike’s going to hand you your head if he finds out about this.” Jeremiah took almost half the thing in the first bite. “He’s all over me about my weight.”
“I think it’s definitely a risk worth taking. Maybe it’s the diet that’s making you all weird. Sit down, we have a show to watch.”
“Bring me one with sprinkles tomorrow.”
When the monitor came on, Jeremiah and Brent saw the clone and Diana at the kitchen table. He was doing a crossword puzzle. She was drinking iced coffee and flipping through the pages of a home decorating magazine, her eyes scanning the glossy photos with quick, critical precision.
“We should do the kitchen over,” she said without looking up.
“Again?”
“That was ten years ago,” she told him, as though this would serve as both explanation and final argument.
“Diana,” the clone said, “I’ve got to figure out my mother’s situation. It’s going to cost me a lot more and they want me to move on it. Let’s get through that first.”
“There’s always something more important,” she said. She got up from the table and began loading the dishwasher, still, Jeremiah noted, without even glancing at the clone.
“Last I heard,” the clone said, turning now to fully face her back, “you were looking for a new house. We don’t need a new kitchen and a new house, do we?”
“Well, there doesn’t seem to be much interest in that, either,” she told him. “I can’t get you to even talk about it seriously. Forget it.”
“You’re never home to talk about anything seriously,” the clone told her, and Jeremiah leaned slightly forward, paying careful attention to how this would play out. He was glad to see his double taking some initiative, even where he had been unable or unwilling to do so. But the clone was not confrontational, he was tiptoeing around the real question, just like he would have done himself.
She changed the subject.
“Louie has another appointment at the vet this afternoon. They might need to adjust his medication. Do you want to take him, or should I?”
“I think you better do it,” the clone told her. “I can’t get him to go in the car with me. Not even with a treat. I think that stuff is messing with him. He’s not acting right.”
Jeremiah shot a sideways glance at Brent. Every time someone started talking about Louie he got worried that there might be questions. But Brent wasn’t typing anything into his notes. He just continued to stare at the screen. The comment had gone right over his head.
“It’s probably just the new car,” Diana said. “It smells different. Dogs can sense when something has changed. They don’t like it. I’m going to take him for a walk.” She closed the dishwasher and wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
The clone watched her leave and then went right back to his crossword. In the silence, Jeremiah looked at him and tried to recollect the exact moment he’d realized something in his marriage had changed. Diana’s added hours at work had been noticeable, of course, but the first
