11 August 1993 - Wednesday morning
I stayed up polishing silver until 3 a.m. awaiting Dr. Rayne's return, but finally could keep my eyes open no longer. I stretched out across my bed until 5:30. When I woke, I found an envelope pushed under my door. The note read:
Sorry. The demon is back in his sepulchre. I hope under lock and key. D.R.
Also enclosed were two tickets to the gala opening of "Don Giovanni" at the Met, two first-class, round-trip tickets to New York City, and a note saying a suite was being held in my name at the Algonquin.
I know that he had planned this trip as a surprise for someone special. I wonder if that magenta stationary was a "Dear John letter." If so, she's a very foolish woman, or very wise. My heart says foolish. Sadly, my brain says wise.
He should still go himself. Perhaps he could take Miss Walker or Miss
Moreau, but he should go. He needs to go. I fear he's barely holding it together. I
wish Fr. Callaghan had been there yesterday. Then I wouldn't face the distasteful
decision of whether or not to discuss Dr. Rayne behind his back. It is not the place
of one in service to discuss one's employer. However, it is my place as someone
who has cared about him, done for him, and respected him for a very long time.
| NEXT |
| CONTENTS | PTL FANFIC |
| E-mail: Dubricus | E-mail: Debbie W. |
