That last was directed at Trey, and again, Paul felt shame. “Sorry to get you up, man,” he said.
Trey shrugged. “Goes with the territory.” He snapped a photo and went back to his phone, and Paul once again had to tear his eyes away from Amber. She was a character, all right: hair frizzing out wildly behind a colorful headband, tattoos up one arm and rings on most of her fingers. And those bright flowered tights that fit her so well.
It wasn’t just her clothes or hair, though. He remembered thinking her a little eccentric, in a good way, when she’d come to interview Wendy. Then, she’d worn a dress and some kind of jacket and boots, all professional.
But she’d gotten Wendy laughing more than he’d heard her laugh in months, and when he’d looked in on them, he’d seen that Amber had pulled off her wig of long hair and was showing it to Wendy. Her head had been completely bald, just as Wendy’s was.
Amber had beckoned him in and showed them both pictures of her variously styled wigs in all different colors, suggesting which would best suit Wendy.
Now Amber’s hair was chin length, and he had to assume that it was natural, since she was wearing it home alone in the middle of the night.
She pulled eggs and a loaf of bread out of the refrigerator and turned as if to ask them something. Then her eyes fell on Davey, now asleep. “Want me to put him to bed on the couch for a little bit?”
Paul didn’t want his son out of his sight. “He’s just as comfortable sleeping on Sarge. Do you have a blanket, though?”
She nodded and reached around him for an afghan lying across a kitchen chair. Before Paul could take it from her, she’d knelt and tucked it around Davey, as tenderly as any mother would.
Paul swallowed. Davey needed a mom. Maybe after Paul pulled himself together—if he ever did pull himself together—he’d try to meet someone. Another Wendy, sweet and steady and pure.
Amber rose gracefully to her feet and kind of danced over to the counter, set a frying pan heating with a chunk of butter in it and then broke eggs into a bowl with one hand.
“So, you two know each other?” Trey’s voice was friendly, but Paul could hear the wariness underneath. Trey was still evaluating whether Paul was a risk to his son.
And the man was well within his rights. It was Paul who’d done something wrong. “Not well,” he said. “Amber interviewed my wife for her book.”
Amber beat the eggs to a froth with a big silver utensil, poured them into the pan and pulled a small bundle of something green out of the fridge. She snipped pieces into the eggs, then turned to face them. “Davey said she’s in heaven,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” He flashed back on Wendy, fixing eggs for breakfast. Not like these eggs—just plain ones—but it had been sweet to have someone cooking for him.
“Sorry, man,” Trey said. “How’s Davey handling it?”
“He’s resilient, like all kids.” Paul looked down at his son. “But it’s taken its toll.”
“On both of you, I imagine.” Amber turned back to the counter and sliced thick pieces of brown bread.
What could he say to that? “How’d the book do?” he asked Amber. “What with all that’s been going on, I haven’t had time to look for it.”
“It did great,” Trey chimed in, sounding proud. “In fact, she has an offer to do another one. You going to go for it?”
Amber stirred the eggs and turned off the burner. “Pretty sure I am.”
“This next book project seems kind of risky to me,” Trey said. He reached across the table and started reading the spines of a stack of books. “Nepal, Tibet, the Himalayas...”
“Well, mostly Delhi and Calcutta,” Amber said, smiling, “but I do hope to squeeze in some side trips. They want me to do a book on cancer patients in South Asia,” she clarified to Paul. “How they do with non-Western medicine.”
“Wow. So you’re going to, what, live there?” Paul couldn’t fathom it. He’d wanted to travel, a lifetime ago.
“More like a couple of long trips,” she said. “I’m excited.”
“Cool.” Amber was way far from his comfort zone and his type. The odd little flutter of heat he’d felt was just one of those opposites-attract things.
Amber scooped eggs onto two plates, added slices of bread to each and brought them over to the table.
“You’re not eating?” Paul asked.
“She never eats.” Trey took a big bite. “Even though she’s a great cook.”
“I do so eat,” she said in a play-whining tone that told Paul she and Trey were close. “Just not in the middle of the night.”
Paul dug into the eggs, flecked with spices and rich with cheese, and realized he hadn’t had dinner. Had he fixed something for Davey? Geez, what kind of...yes. He’d cut up a hot dog, stirred it into some mac and cheese. Not exactly healthy, but at least he wasn’t starving his kid.
Amber sat down at the table with them and pulled out a big map. “See, I want to start in Delhi. That’s where my publishers have some contacts. But I’d like to get out into the countryside, too, see how people manage disease when they don’t have access to modern medical centers.” She was running a red-painted fingernail over the map as she talked. “And then I’ll be so close to Nepal, I have to make a side trip there.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I don’t like the idea of you traveling alone,” Trey said. “Neither does Erica.”
“I’ll start out alone,” Amber said, “but I doubt I’ll be alone for long. There’s a big expat community in most of these places, so it’s easy to find friends to travel with.”
Trey shook his head.
Paul kind of admired that
