“I had to come to Athens on business,” Fraser explained. “Didn’t you get my cable?”
Catherine looked at him, trying to remember. “I don’t know,” she said finally. She led
him into the living room, strewn with old newspapers, filled ashtrays and plates of half-
eaten food. “Sorry the place is such a mess,” she said, waving a vague hand. “I’ve been
busy.”
Fraser was studying her worriedly. “Are you all right, Catherine?”
“Me? Fantastic. How about a little drink?”
“It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning.”
She nodded. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Bill. It’s too early to have a drink,
and to tell you the truth I wouldn’t have one except to celebrate your coming here. You’re
the only one in the whole world who could make me have a drink at eleven o’clock in the
morning.”
Fraser watched with dismay as Catherine staggered to the liquor cabinet and poured a
large drink for herself and a smaller one for him.
“Do you like Greek brandy?” she asked as she carried his drink to him. “I used to
hate it, but you get used to it.”
Fraser took his drink and set it down. “Where’s Larry?” he asked quietly.
“Larry? Oh, good old Larry’s flying around somewhere. He works for the richest man
in the world, you know. Demiris owns everything, even Larry.”
He studied her for a moment. “Does Larry know you drink?”
Catherine slammed down her glass and stood swaying in front of him. “What do you
mean, does Larry know I drink?” she demanded indignantly. “Who says I drink? Just
because I want to celebrate seeing an old friend, don’t you start attacking me!”
“Catherine,” he began, “I’m…”
“You think you can come in here and accuse me of being some kind of a drunk?”
“I’m sorry, Catherine,” Fraser said painfully, “I think you need help.”
“Well you’re wrong,” she retorted. “I don’t need any help. Do you know why?
Because I’m—I’m self—I’m self…” she groped for the word and finally gave it up. “I
don’t need any help.”
Fraser watched her for a moment. “I have to go to a conference now,” he said. “Have
dinner with me tonight.”
“OK.” She nodded.
“Good, I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Catherine watched Bill Fraser as he walked out the door. Then with unsteady steps,
she walked into her bedroom and slowly opened the closet door, staring into the mirror
hanging on the back of the door. She stood there frozen, unable to believe what she was