alarm for 6:00 a.m. Iâll try to be quiet in the bathroom.â
âOh, youâll be awake before that,â Bailey said.
He shot her what he hoped was a quelling glance. âI expect you to be considerate.â
âIâm not the problem.â With a beatific smile and no further comment, she sauntered out of the kitchen. A moment later, he heard the click of her bedroom door.
They must have early rising neighbors, or possibly barking dogs nearby, although he hadnât heard any so far. Surely no one in this neighborhood kept a rooster. He hadnât moved to Outer Farmovia, had he?
Dismissing the matter, he went to unpack his sheets.
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O WEN AWOKE IN A SHIFTING darkness pierced by what seemed to be headlights playing through the vertical blinds in his bedroom. Groping on the bedside table, he found that his cell phone read 3:25 a.m.
What was that rumbling noise? He must have been hearing it in his sleep. His dreams, when he remembered them at all, usually involved replaying surgeries and reviewing patient charts, but now he recalled huddling behind a barbed-wire fence while military-style trucks rolled past. The frightening scene seemed ripped from an old film about a Soviet prisoner-of-war camp.
From outside came the squeal of hydraulic brakes, followed by silence. He sat up, struggling to shake off hisdisorientation. He hadnât been recalling a film but vivid images heâd formed as a teenager after reading articles his father had written for a Russian émigré newspaper about his own imprisonment. Although weakened by years of incarceration as a dissident, Yevgeny Tartikoff had survived and moved to America, where heâd eked out a living as a writer and editor. Heâd been pleased by his sonâs interest in medicine, but had died while Owen was still an undergraduate.
More rumbling set Owenâs heart pounding. Those were real trucks, and real lights glaring through the blindsâ¦.
Oh, youâll be awake before that. This must be what Bailey had meant. Heâd noticed a high wall behind the property, but the tangle of vegetation had blocked whatever lay on the other side. A business that received early morning deliveries, obviously.
Despite his annoyance, Owen had to smile. Bailey must have enjoyed her little joke. Right now she was probably sleeping soundly thanks to a good set of earplugs, dreaming about her unwanted roommate departing posthaste with his furniture in tow.
Well, she was about to learn that Owen Tartikoff was no lightweight. In his phoneâs organizer, he added earplugs to his shopping list, then scooted down on the bed and pulled the pillow over his head.
Doing his best to ignore the rattle and bang of trucks pulling up to a loading dock, he drifted off.
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âY OU LIVE BEHIND A SUPERMARKET ?â Nurse Erica Benford chuckled as she watched Owen. He appreciated the way she stood ready to anticipate his needs as he performed a hysteroscopy on an anesthetized thirty-seven-year-old woman whoâd been trying for years to have a second child.
The minimally invasive surgery involved inserting athin scope equipped with a camera that allowed him to remove small fibroids and adhesions. There was a good chance he could clean out the obstacles to conception, and since the procedure avoided the need for an incision, recovery should be swift.
âI drove by the Suncrest Market on my way here,â he said as he worked. âBig place with a pharmacy, deli, the whole shot. And howâs this for irony? There was a sign in the window advertising sleep aids.â
âYou donât suppose Bailey paid someone to put that up for your benefit, do you?â Erica teased.
âI wouldnât put it past her. Maybe I should move out, but I take this situation as a challenge.â Owen had filled Erica in about his living arrangements, since she already knew he planned to occupy a house he co-owned. Also, he preferred to let her