Acceptable Risk

12

Monday, September 19, 1994

It was a gorgeous fall day with bright warm sunshine that quickly brought the temperature to nearly eighty. To Kim’s delight some of the trees in the low-lying marshy areas of the forest already had a hint of their fall splendor, and the fields surrounding the castle were a rich blanket of goldenrod.

Kim had not seen Edward at all. He’d gotten up before she did at seven and had left for the lab without breakfasting. She could tell because there were no soiled dishes in the sink. Kim wasn’t surprised since Edward had told her several days previously that the group had begun taking their meals together in the lab to save time. He’d said they were making amazing progress.

Kim spent the morning in the cottage with her decorating project. After a week’s indecision she was able to decide on the fabric for the bedspreads, the bed hangings, and the curtains for both upstairs bedrooms. It had been a difficult choice, but having finally made it, Kim felt relieved. With the fabric number in hand she called a friend at the design center in Boston and had her place the order.

After a pleasant lunch of salad and iced tea, Kim walked up to the castle for her afternoon of searching and organizing. Once inside the mansion she had her usual debate between spending the afternoon in the wine cellar or the attic. The attic won out because of the sunshine. She reasoned there would be plenty of gloomy, rainy days when the wine cellar would be a relief.

Moving all the way around to the distant point of the attic over the servants’ wing, Kim set to work on a series of black file cabinets. Using empty cardboard moving boxes that had brought Edward’s books to the cottage, Kim separated the documents as she’d been doing the previous weeks. The papers were mostly business-related from the early nineteenth century.

Kim had become adept at reading the handwritten pages and could file them in the proper box after a mere glance at the title page, if there was one, or at the first paragraph if there wasn’t. By late afternoon she’d come to the last file cabinet. She was in the next-to-last drawer, going through a collection of shipping contracts, when she found a letter addressed to Ronald Stewart.

After having gone so long without finding such a document, Kim was momentarily stunned. She looked at the letter as if her eyes were deceiving her. Finally, she reached into the drawer and lifted it out. She held it with just the tips of her fingers the way Mary Custland had handled the Mather letter. Looking at the signature, her hopes rose. It was another letter from Samuel Sewall.

8th January 1697

Boston My Dear Friend,

As you are undoubtedly aware the Honorable Lieu-tenant-Governor, Council, and Assembly of his Majesty’s Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in General Court did command and appoint Thursday the fourteenth of January next be observed as a day of fasting in repentance for any and all sins done against innocent people as perpetrated by Satan and his Familiars in Salem. In like manner I being sensible of my complicity serving with the late Commission of Oyer and Terminer wish to make public my blame and shame of it and shall do so in The Old South Church. But to you my friend I know not what to say to surcease your burden. That Elizabeth was involved with the Forces of Evil I have no doubt but be she possessed or in covenant I know not nor do I wish to conjecture in view of my past errors of judgement. As to your inquiry in regards to the records of the Court of Oyer and Terminer in general and to Elizabeth’s trial in particular, I can attest that they are in the possession of Reverend Cotton Mather who has sworn to me that they will never fall into the wrong hands to impugn the character of the justices and magistrates who served to the best of their ability albeit in error in many cases. I believe although I dared not ask nor do I wish to know that Reverend Mather intends to burn the aforesaid records. As for my opinion in regards to the offer Magistrate Jonathan Corwin made to give you all records of Elizabeth’s case including initial complaint, arrest warrant, mittimus, and preliminary hearing testimony, I think you should take them and dispose of them in like manner for then future generations of your family will not suffer public exposure of this tragedy in Salem brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

Your Friend in Christ’s name, Samuel Sewall.

“For Godsake!” Edward snapped. “Sometimes you can be so blasted hard to find.”

Kim looked up from the Sewall letter to see Edward standing over her. She was partially hidden behind one of the black filing cabinets.

“Is something wrong?” Kim asked nervously.

“Yes, there is,” Edward said. “I’ve been looking for you for a half hour. I’d guessed you were up here in the castle, and I’d even come all the way up here to the attic and yelled. When you didn’t answer I went down and searched the wine cellar. When you weren’t there, I came back here. This is ridiculous. If you’re going to spend this much time up here at least put in a phone.”

Kim scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never heard you.”

“That’s obvious,” Edward said. “Listen, there’s a problem. Stanton is up in arms again about money, and he’s on his way driving out here to Salem. We all hate to take the time out to meet with him, especially in the lab, where he’ll want explanations about what everybody is doing. And to make matters worse everyone is on edge from overwork. There’s a lot of bickering for stupid reasons like who has the most space and who’s closer to the goddamn water cooler. It’s gotten to the point I feel like a den mother for a bunch of bratty Cub Scouts and Brownies. Anyway, to make a long story short, I want to have the meeting in the cottage; it’ll be good to get everybody out of the hostile environment. To save time I thought we could eat as well. So could you throw something together for dinner?”

At first Kim thought Edward was joking, but when she realized he wasn’t, she glanced at her watch. “It’s after five,” she reminded him.

“It would have been four-thirty if you hadn’t effectively hidden yourself away,” Edward said.

“I can’t make dinner for eight people at this time in the afternoon,” Kim said.

“Why not?” Edward questioned. “It doesn’t have to be a feast, for chrissake. It can be take-out pizza for all I care. That’s what we’ve been living on anyway. Just something to fill their bellies. Please, Kim. I need your help. I’m going nuts.”

“All right,” Kim said against her better judgment. She could tell Edward was stressed. “I can do better than takeout pizza but it surely won’t be gourmet.” Kim gathered her things including the Sewall letter and followed Edward out of the attic.

As they were descending the stairs she handed the letter to him, explaining what it was. He handed it back.

“I don’t have time for Samuel Sewall at the moment.”

“It’s important,” Kim said. “It explains how Ronald was able to eliminate Elizabeth’s name from the historical record. He didn’t do it alone. He had help from Jonathan Corwin and Cotton Mather.”

“I’ll read the letter later,” Edward said.

“There’s a part that you might find interesting,” Kim said. They had reached the landing of the grand staircase. Edward paused beneath the stained glass rose window. The yellow light made him appear particularly pale. Kim thought he looked almost ill.

“All right,” Edward said impatiently. “Show me what you think I might find interesting.”

Kim gave him the letter and pointed to the very last sentence, where Sewall mentioned that the Salem tragedy was either brought on or abetted by Elizabeth’s actions.

Edward looked up at Kim after reading it. “So?” he questioned. “We already know that.”

“We do,” Kim agreed, “but did they? I mean, did they know about the mold?”

Edward looked back at the letter and read the sentence a second time. “They couldn’t have,” he said when he’d finished. “Scientifically it was impossible. They didn’t have the tools or the understanding.”

“Then how do you explain the sentence?” Kim said. “In the earlier part of the letter Sewall was admitting he made mistakes with the other convicted witches, but not with Elizabeth. They all knew something we don’t.”

“Then it comes back to the mysterious evidence,” Edward said. He handed her back the letter. “It’s interesting but not for my purposes, and truly I don’t have time for this stuff now.”

They continued down the stairs.

“I’m sorry I’m so preoccupied,” Edward said. “On top of all the other pressures I’m under, Stanton is turning out to be a royal pain in the ass, almost as bad as Harvard. Between the two of them I’m ready to be committed.”

“Is all this effort worth it?” Kim questioned.

Edward eyed Kim with disbelief. “Of course it is,” he said irritably. “Science requires sacrifice. We all know that.”

“This is sounding less like science than economics,” Kim said. Edward didn’t respond.

Outside, Edward went directly to his car. “We’ll be at the house at seven-thirty sharp,” he called over his shoulder just before climbing in behind the wheel. He started the engine and sprayed sand and dirt from beneath the wheels as he sped off toward the lab.

Kim got into her own car and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel while she mulled the problem of what to do for dinner. Now that Edward had left and she had a moment to think, she was irritated and disappointed in herself for having accepted this unexpected and unreasonable burden.

Kim recognized her behavior, and she didn’t like it. By being so compliant she was reverting to more childlike conduct of appeasement, just as she had years before, whenever her father was concerned. But recognizing what she was doing and doing something about it were two very different things. As with her father, she wanted to please Edward since she desired and needed his esteem. Besides, Kim reasoned, Edward was under a lot of pressure and needed her.

Kim started the car and headed toward town for food shopping. As she drove she thought more about her situation. She certainly didn’t want to lose Edward, yet over the last several weeks it had seemed as if the harder she tried to please him and the more understanding she tried to be, the more demanding he’d become.

With such short notice Kim decided on a simple dinner of barbecue-grilled steaks accompanied by salad and hot rolls. The beverage was to be either jug wine or beer. For dessert she got fresh fruit and ice cream. By six forty-five she had the steaks trimmed, the salad prepared, and the rolls ready for the oven. She even had the fire going in the outside grill.

Dashing into the bathroom, Kim took a quick shower. Then she went upstairs to put on fresh casual clothes before returning back to the kitchen to get out napkins and flatware. She was setting the table in the dining room when Stanton’s Mercedes pulled up to the front of the house.

“Greetings, cousin,” Stanton said as he came through the door. He gave Kim a peck on her cheek.

Kim welcomed him and asked if he’d like a glass of wine. Stanton accepted and followed her into the kitchen.

“Is that the only wine you have?” Stanton questioned with disdain as Kim unscrewed the cap.

“I’m afraid so,” Kim said.

“I think I’ll have beer.”

While Kim continued with the dinner preparations Stanton perched himself on a stool and watched her work. He didn’t offer to help, but Kim didn’t mind. She had everything under control.

“I see you and Buffer get along okay,” Stanton commented. Edward’s dog was under Kim’s feet as she moved about the kitchen. “I’m impressed. He’s a nasty son-of-a-bitch.”

“Me get along with Buffer?” Kim questioned cynically. “That’s a joke. He’s certainly not here because of me; it’s because of all this steak. He’s usually with Edward at the lab.”

Kim checked the warming temperature on the oven and slipped in the rolls.

“How are you enjoying living in this cottage?” Stanton asked.

“I like it,” Kim said. Then she sighed. “Well, mostly. The lab situation is unfortunately dominating things. With all the pressure, Edward has been on edge.”

“Don’t I know,” Stanton commented.

“Harvard is giving him a hard time,” Kim said. She purposely didn’t add that so was Stanton.

“I warned him about Harvard from the beginning of this venture,” Stanton said. “I knew from past experience that Harvard wouldn’t be apt to roll over and play dead, not when they got wind of the potential earnings involved. Universities have become very sensitive to this kind of situation, especially Harvard.”

“I’d hate to see him jeopardize his academic career,” Kim said. “Before Ultra, teaching was his first love.”

Kim began to dress the salad.

Stanton watched her work and didn’t say anything until he’d caught her eye. “Have you guys been getting along okay?” he asked. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but since I’ve been working with him on this project, I’ve found that Edward is not the easiest person to deal with.”

“It’s been a bit stressful of late,” Kim admitted. “Moving up here hasn’t been as smooth as I’d anticipated, but of course I hadn’t taken into account Ultra and Omni. As I said, Edward’s been under a lot of pressure.”

“He’s not the only one,” Stanton said.

The front door opened and Edward and the researchers trooped in. Kim went out to greet them to make the best of the situation, but it wasn’t easy. They were all in an irritable mood, even Gloria and David. It seemed that no one had wanted to come to the cottage for dinner. Edward had to order them to attend.

The worst response was from Eleanor. As soon as she got wind of the menu she announced petulantly that she did not eat red meat.

“What do you normally eat?” Edward asked her.

“Fish or chicken,” she said.

Edward looked at Kim and raised his eyebrows as if to say: “What are we going to do?”

“I can get some fish,” Kim said. She got her car keys and went out and got in the car. It was certainly a rude response on Eleanor’s part, but in actuality Kim liked getting out of the house for a few minutes. The mood in there was depressing.

There was a market which sold fresh fish within a short drive, and Kim bought several salmon filets in case someone besides Eleanor preferred fish. On the drive back, Kim wondered with some trepidation what she would be encountering on her return.

Entering the cottage, she was pleasantly surprised. The atmosphere had improved. It still wasn’t a joyous gathering by any stretch of the imagination, but it was less strained. In her absence the wine and beer had been opened and drunk with more gusto than she’d expected. She was glad she’d bought as much as she had.

Everyone was sitting in the parlor, grouped around the trestle table, with the portrait of Elizabeth staring down at them. Kim nodded to those who looked in her direction and proceeded directly into the kitchen. She washed the fish and put it on a platter next to the meat.

With her own glass of wine in her hand, Kim walked back to the parlor. Stanton had stood up while she’d been in the kitchen and given everyone a handout. He was now standing in front of the fireplace, directly below the portrait.

“What you are looking at is a forecast of how quickly we will run out of money at the present burn-rate,” he said. “Obviously that’s not a good situation. Thus I need some idea when each of you will get to various milestones in order to best advise how to raise more capital. There are three choices: go public, which I doubt would work, at least not to our advantage until we have something to sell-”

“But we do have something to sell!” Edward interrupted. “We’ve got the most promising drug since the advent of antibiotics, thanks to the Missus.” Edward raised his beer bottle to Elizabeth’s portrait. “I’d like to make a toast to the woman who may yet become Salem’s most famous witch.”

Everyone except Kim raised their drinks. Even Stanton joined after getting his beer from where he’d placed it on the end of the mantel. After a moment of silence they all drank eagerly.

Kim squirmed uncomfortably, half expecting Elizabeth’s expression in the portrait to change. She felt Edward’s comments were disrespectful and in bad taste. Kim wondered how Elizabeth would feel if she were there to see these talented people maneuvering for personal gain in her house from a discovery related to her misfortune and untimely death.

“I’m not denying we have a potential product,” Stanton said after putting his beer back down. “We all know that. But we don’t have a currently marketable product. So trust me, in the current economic climate, it is not the time for a public offering. What we could do is a private offering, which has the benefit of less loss of control. The last alternative is to approach additional venture capitalists. Of course this approach would require the most sacrifice of stock and hence equity. In fact we’d have to dilute what we already hold.”

A murmur of dissatisfaction arose from the researchers.

“I don’t want to give away any more stock,” Edward said. “It’s going to be too valuable when Ultra hits the market. Why can’t we just borrow the money?”

“We don’t have any collateral to secure such a loan,” Stanton said. “Borrowing the kind of money we’ll need without collateral means paying exorbitant interest since it will not come from the usual sources. And since it’s not from the usual sources, the people you have to deal with don’t allow any hiding behind a corporate shield should things go sour. Do you understand what I’m saying, Edward?”

“I get the drift,” Edward said. “But investigate the possibility anyway. Let’s not leave any stone unturned that would avoid giving up any more equity. It would be a shame, because Ultra is such a sure thing.”

“Are you as confident of that as you were when we formed the company?” Stanton asked.

“More so,” Edward said. “Every day I’m more convinced. Things are going very well, and if they continue as they are we might be in a position to file an IND-an Investigative New Drug application-within six to eight months, which is far different than the usual three and a half years.”

“The faster you move, the better the financial situation becomes,” Stanton said. “It would be even better if you could pick up the pace.”

Eleanor let out a short, derisive laugh.

“We are all working at maximum velocity,” François said.

“It’s true,” Curt said. “Most of us are sleeping less than six hours a night.”

“There’s one thing that I haven’t started doing,” Edward said. “I’ve not yet contacted the people I know at the FDA. I want to start laying the groundwork to get Ultra at least considered for the expedited track. What we’ll do eventually is try the drug on severe depression as well as AIDS and maybe even terminal cancer patients.”

“Anything that saves time helps,” Stanton said. “I can’t stress that fact enough.”

“I think we get the message,” Edward said.

“Any better idea of Ultra’s mode of action?” Stanton asked.

Edward asked Gloria to tell Stanton what they’d just discovered.

“Just this morning we found low levels of a natural enzyme in the brains of rats that metabolize Ultra,” Gloria said.

“Is that supposed to excite me?” Stanton asked sarcastically.

“It should,” Edward said, “provided you remember anything from the four years you wasted at medical school.”

“It strongly suggests that Ultra could be a natural brain molecule, or at least structurally very close to a natural molecule,” Gloria said. “Additional support for this theory is the stability of the binding of Ultra to neuronal membranes. We’re beginning to think the situation could be somewhat akin to the relationship between morphine-like narcotics and the brain’s own endorphins.”

“In other words,” Edward said, “Ultra is a natural brain autocoid, or internal hormone.”

“But the levels are not the same throughout the brain,” Gloria said. “Our initial PET scans suggests Ultra concentrates in the brain stem, the midbrain, and the limbic system.”

“Ah, the limbic system,” Stanton said. His eyes lit up. “That I remember. That’s the part of the brain associated with the animal inside us and his basic drives: like rage, hunger, and sex. See, Edward, my medical education wasn’t a complete waste.”

“Gloria, tell him how we think it works,” Edward said, ignoring Stanton’s comment.

“We think it buffers the levels of the brain’s neurotransmitiers,” Gloria said. “Something similar to the way a buffer maintains the pH of an acid-base system.”

“In other words,” Edward said, “Ultra, or the natural molecule if it is different than Ultra, functions to stabilize emotion. At least that was its initial function. It was to bring emotion back from extremes created by a disturbing event like seeing a saber-tooth tiger in your cave. Whether the extreme emotion is fear or anger or whatever, Ultra buffers the neurotransmitters, allowing the animal or primitive human being to quickly return to normal to face the next challenge.”

“What do you mean by ‘initial function’?” Stanton asked.

“With our latest work we believe the function has evolved as the human brain has evolved,” Edward said. “Now we believe the function has gone from merely stabilizing emotion to bringing it more into the realm of voluntary control.”

Stanton’s eyes lit up again. “Wait a second,” he said as he struggled to understand. “Are you saying that if a depressed patient were to be given Ultra, all he’d have to do is desire not to be depressed?”

“That’s our current hypothesis,” Edward said. “The natural molecule exists in the brain in minute amounts but plays a major role in modulating emotion and mood.”

“My God!” Stanton said. “Ultra could be the drug of the century!”

“That’s why we’re working nonstop,” Edward said.

“What are you doing now?” Stanton asked.

“We’re doing everything,” Edward said. “We’re studying the molecule from every vantage point possible. Now that we know it binds to a receptor, we want to know the binding protein. We want to know the binding protein’s structure or structures since we suspect Ultra binds with different side chains in different circumstances.”

“When do you think we can start marketing in Europe and Japan?” Stanton asked.

“We’ll have some idea once we start clinical trials,” Edward said. “But that won’t happen until we get the IND from the FDA.”

“We’ve got to speed the process up somehow,” Stanton said. “This is crazy! We’ve got a billion-plus drug and we could go bankrupt.”

“Wait a second,” Edward said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “I just got an idea. I just thought of a way to save some time. I’ll start taking the drug myself.”

For a few minute there was absolute silence in the room save for the ticking of a clock on the mantel and the raucous cry of sea gulls down by the river.

“Is that a wise move?” Stanton asked.

“Damn right it is,” Edward said, warming to the idea. “Hell, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. With the results of the toxicity studies we’ve already done, I’m confident to take Ultra without the slightest qualm.”

“It’s true we’ve seen no toxicity whatsoever,” Gloria said.

“Tissue cultures seem to thrive on the stuff,” David said. “Particularly neural cell cultures.”

“I don’t think taking an experimental drug is a good idea,” Kim said, speaking up for the first time. She was standing in the doorway to the foyer.

Edward flashed her a scowl for interrupting. “I think it is a masterful idea,” he said.

“How will it save time?” Stanton asked.

“Hell, we’ll have all the answers before we even begin clinical trials,” Edward said. “Think how easy it will make designing the clinical protocols.”

“I’ll take it as well,” Gloria said.

“Me too,” Eleanor said.

One by one the other researchers agreed that it was a fabulous idea and offered to participate.

“We can all take different dosages,” Gloria said. “And six people will even give us a modicum of statistical significance when trying to evaluate the results.”

“We can do the dosage levels blindly,” François suggested. “That way we won’t know who’s on the highest dose and who’s on the lowest.”

“Isn’t taking an unapproved investigational drug against the law?” Kim asked.

“What kind of law?” Edward asked with a laugh. “An institutional review board law? Well, as far as Omni goes, we are the institutional review board as well as every other committee, and we haven’t passed any laws at all.”

All the researchers laughed along with Edward.

“I thought the government had guidelines or laws about such things,” Kim persisted.

“The NIH has guidelines,” Stanton explained. “But they are for institutions receiving NIH grants. We’re certainly not getting any government money.”

“There must be some applicable rule against human use of a drug before the animal trials are completed,” Kim said. “Just plain intuition tells you that it is foolhardy and dangerous. What about the thalidomide disaster? Doesn’t that worry you people?”

“There is no comparison with that unfortunate situation,” Edward said. “There wasn’t any question of thalidomide being a natural compound, and it was generally far more toxic. But, Kim, we’re not asking you to take Ultra. In fact you can be the control.”

Everyone laughed anew. Kim blushed self-consciously and left the parlor for the kitchen. She was amazed how the atmosphere of the meeting had changed. From its strained beginning it had become buoyant. It gave Kim the uncomfortable feeling that some degree of group hysteria was occurring due to a combination of overwork and heightened expectations.

In the kitchen Kim busied herself with getting the rolls from the oven. From the parlor she heard continued laughter and loud, excited talk about building a science center with some of the billions they foresaw in their futures.

While she was transferring the rolls to a breadbasket, Kim sensed that someone had come into the kitchen behind her.

“I thought I’d offer to help,” François said.

Kim turned and glanced at the man, but then looked quickly away, surveying the kitchen. She made it seem as if she were thinking about what he could do. In reality the man disturbed her with his forwardness, and she was still uncomfortable from the episode in the parlor.

“I think everything is under control,” she said. “But thank you for asking.”

“May I fill my wineglass?” he asked. He already had his hand wrapped around the neck of the wine jug.

“Of course,” Kim said.

“I’d love to see some of the environs when the work calms down,” François said as he poured the wine. “Perhaps you could show me some of the sights. I hear Marblehead is charming.”

Kim hazarded another quick glance at François. As she expected, he was regarding her with his intense stare. When he caught her eye he smiled wryly, giving Kim the uncomfortable feeling that he was flirting with her. It also made her question what Edward had said to him about their relationship.

“Perhaps your family will be here by then,” Kim said. “Perhaps,” François answered.

After Kim finished her usual bedtime routine, she purposefully left her door completely ajar so that she could see into the half-bath the two bedrooms shared. Her intention was to stay awake to talk with Edward when he came back from the lab to sleep. Unfortunately she didn’t know what time that might be.

Sitting up comfortably against her pillows, Kim took Elizabeth’s diary off her night table and opened it to where she was currently reading. The diary hadn’t proven to be what she’d originally expected: except for the last entry it had been a disappointment. For the most part Elizabeth merely recorded the weather and what happened each day instead of expressing her thoughts, which Kim would have found much more interesting.

Despite her attempt to stay awake, Kim fell fast asleep around midnight with her bedside light still on. The next thing she was aware of was the sound of the toilet flushing. Opening her eyes, she could see Edward in the half-bath.

Kim rubbed her sleep-filled eyes and tried to concentrate on the clock. It was after one in the morning. With some effort she got herself out of bed and into her robe and slippers. Feeling a bit more awake, she padded into the half-bath. Edward was busy brushing his teeth.

Kim sat on the closed toilet seat and hugged her knees to her chest. Edward gave her a questioning look but didn’t say anything until he’d finished with his teeth.

“What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” Edward asked. He sounded concerned, not irritated.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Kim said. “I wanted to ask you if you really intend to take Ultra.”

“Sure do,” he said. “We’re all going to start in the morning. We set up a blind system so no one will know how much they are taking compared to the others. It was François’s idea.”

“Do you really think this is a wise move?”

“It’s probably the best idea I’ve had in ages,” Edward said. “It will undoubtedly speed up the whole drug-evaluation process and Stanton will be off my back.”

“But there must be a risk,” she said.

“Of course there is a risk,” Edward said. “There is always a risk, but I’m confident it is an acceptable risk. Ultra is not toxic, that we know for sure.”

“It makes me feel very nervous,” Kim said.

“Well, let me reassure you of one significant point,” Edward said. “I’m no martyr! In fact I’m basically a chicken. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t feel it was perfectly safe, nor would I allow the others. Besides, historically we’ll be in good company. Many of the greats in the history of medical research used themselves as the first experimental subjects.”

Kim raised her eyebrows questioningly. She wasn’t convinced.

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Edward said. He vigorously washed his face, then began to towel it dry.

“I have another question,” Kim said. “What have you told people at the lab about me?”

Edward lowered the towel from his face and looked at Kim. “What are you talking about? Why would I be telling the people at the lab anything about you?”

“I mean about our relationship,” Kim said.

“I don’t recall specifically,” Edward said with a shrug. “I suppose I might have said you were my girlfriend.”

“Does that mean lover or does that mean friend?” Kim asked.

“What’s going on here?” Edward questioned with annoyance. “I haven’t divulged any personal secrets, if that’s what you are implying. I’ve never gone into intimate details with anyone about us. And why am I getting the third degree at one o’clock in the morning?”

“I’m sorry if you feel I’m interrogating you,” Kim said. “That wasn’t my intention. I was just curious what you’ve said, since we’re not married and I assume they’ve talked with you about their families.”

Kim had started to explain about François, but she’d thought better of it. At the moment Edward was too temperamental for such a conversation, with his fatigue and anxious preoccupation with Ultra. Besides, Kim was reluctant to cause any potential rift between him and François because she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure of what François’s intentions had been.

Kim stood up. “I hope I haven’t upset you,” she said. “I know how tired you must be. Good night.” She stepped from the bathroom and started toward her bed.

“Wait,” Edward called out. He emerged from the bathroom. “I’m overreacting again,” he said. “I’m sorry. Instead of making you feel badly I should be thanking you. I really appreciated your putting the dinner together. It was perfect and turned out to be a big hit with everyone. It was the kind of break we all needed.”

“I appreciate your saying something,” Kim said. “I have been trying to help. I think I know the pressure you’re under.”

“Well, it should get better with Stanton temporarily mollified,” Edward said. “Now I can concentrate on Ultra and Harvard.”