To See The Daises ... First Read Free Page A

last of her wine, then said, "The beginning for me was yesterday afternoon. I woke up in a depressingly dirty little room. I had no idea where I was or who I was, but I knew I definitely didn't want to be there. The door was locked so I left by the window."
    She knew she was being less than honest in her recounting of the events of the day before, but there was so much to tell. Her physical and mental state when she had awakened alone in that creepy little room. The problems she had encountered in trying to leave. But for now, until she could better judge this man's reaction to her unusual predicament, she would simply relay the basic facts to him.
    "Since then," she continued, "I've been walking, mostly. When I decided to get in touch with a private investigator, I looked in a phone book and found—with the help of an adorable little German lady—the one closest to the phone booth. Which led me to you," she finished with a shrug, then stared at him with interest for a moment. "And you still don't believe a word of it. . . right?"
    He rubbed his strong jaw thoughtfully. "Why a private investigator?" he asked instead of answering her question. "Why not the police? They might have a missing person's report on you right now. And even if they don't, they have resources that would make the search easier. If nothing else, they could take your story to the newspapers and television."
    She leaned forward to plant her elbows on the table. "I considered the police. In fact, I think I covered all the possibilities." She grinned. "I've had a lot of free time for thinking of late." Her eyes dropped to his untouched lunch. "Aren't you going to eat that?" Then, when he gave a snort of surprised laughter and switched plates with her, she continued to explain between bites.
    "Suppose I don't belong to anyone? What would the police do with me then?"
    "What do you mean, what would they do with you? You sound like you think they would throw you out with the trash."
    "That would be better. No, they would send me to a psychiatrist."
    "So? A psychiatrist might be able to help you remember." He paused and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless you're afraid I'll find out you're lying."
    She shook her head In regret. "It's very hard for you to accept something on faith alone, isn't it? What on earth could I gain by tying?" She frowned thoughtfully. "No, that's not the reason I'm afraid to go to the police."
    "Afraid?"
    "Yes, afraid. Consider the facts. One of the most horrifying things that can happen to a person is the loss of self. I didn't even know what city I was in until I saw Houston on the cover of the telephone book. I should be terrified. I should have a dark cloud of emptiness hanging over my head." Finishing the last bite of linguini, she leaned back with a sigh of repletion. "Do I look terrified?" she asked quizzically.
    "No," he replied, chuckling softly. "I can't really , say that you do."
    "Right. I'm not. I'm having a ball." Her eyes sparkled as she remembered how she had spent the first part of her day. "Do you know what I did this morning? I played chess with a very dapper old man in the park and then repaired the kite of a chubby little boy with a lisp." She leaned forward to whisper confidingly, "I'm crazy, you see. That's why I can't go to the police. If I don't belong to anyone, they would lock me up. I've thought it over very carefully and I decided that if this is crazy, I can live with it. So no police."
    Ben's shoulders shook with silent laughter at her unorthodox, but strangely logical thinking. He doubted very much that she was insane, but he wasn't at all sure the authorities would agree with him. What on earth had he stumbled across? She was like no one he had ever met before. And she thought he was fighting against believing her. The truth was that he accepted every word that crossed her beautiful lips, and it was this—his uncharacteristic receptiveness—that made him wary. Something inside his brain was warning