After returning from Greece to her spacious house in the City, Daniela went through the dreaded formalities of debriefing her parents about her trip. The discussion was the very next day, over a very late lunch in their kitchen nook. From the room's bay window there was a sweeping view of the San Francisco Bay and the island of Alcatraz in the distance. Much of Diana's report entailed a fictional account of visiting the Acropolis and many museums with Nicasio. She described spending leisurely hours shopping in the Plaka, which her mother seemed most interested in. After convincing both parents that she had a restful and culturally inspiring sojourn, they asked when she was planning to return to work.

"Honestly, mother, if I never go back to that torture chamber, I would die happy."

"Daniela! Don't speak of such things. But Mr. Cuomo has called several times, asking about you. He said you had some . . . project or another to work on when you get back."

"Great, mom. So what did you tell him? That I've really missed his too-obvious sexual advances towards me?"

"Daniela!"

"Besides . . . I have one more thing to do before I ever go back there."

Her father, who had been sipping his orange juice methodically and listening, spoke up sternly.

"So . . . you're not going back in tomorrow, young lady?"

"No way, Dad ! Not for a couple days, at least!"

She yawned slowly.

"I'm still really jet lagged. Look at me. I can't tell whether it's day or night. They'll just have to wait . . . a day or so more maybe."

"You forget, young lady, that I secured that job . . . especially for you. We both have certain obligations with it now . . . and we must to honor them."

"Right Dad. Well, your honor and my honor will just have to be preserved. Just a bit longer."

"Daniela !"

"So what is it Daniela . . . you say you still have to do?" Her mother's voice took on an overbearing tone.

She thought for a moment. It was imperative that she not let anyone know about her future visit to Emel Bahar's house south of the City in Montecito. Especially Nicasio.

"Mom. Do you remember that girl in Santa Barbara who was my first roommate?"

Her mother looked at her in a puzzled manner.

"Yes . . . well . . . not her name, exactly. She was from Pasadena?"

"Yes, Mom. Good. Jenny Sorenson. We've kept in pretty close contact you know, all these years."

"Jenny. That's right. She was kind of a wild girl, as I remember."

"Not really, Mom. Just kind of messed up in some ways."

"Well . . . that's what I meant."

"So when I got in last night, I checked my emails. I got this very desperate message from her."

"What? What kind of message? Desperate?"

"Just some personal stuff. But very serious now. Remember at the end of that year? She moved out because she had some . . . an eating disorder?"

"Well yeah . . . I guess so."

"See it's been reoccurring over the years and . . . poor thing, she's in a pretty bad condition right now."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Daniela. But . . . what's that got to do with you?

"A lot, Mom! I'm still her best . . . probably the only friend she has right now."

"Oh my. Well I hope she has others. But she must be seeing a counselor all these years . . . right?"

"Mom. I practically was her counselor for four years. We women must support each other. You know that."

"So what exactly does that mean?"  Her father interrupted."

"It means . . . it's important, Dad. I have to go down there and see her. Tomorrow."

"And miss more work?" Her father's face began to turn the chalk-like shade it always did when he was extremely angry. Daniela remembered that face well from her teenage years.

Her mother tried to bring more light and less heat into the discussion.

"So she still lives in Pasadena, Daniela?"

"No, Mom. She stayed in Santa Barbara after college. Just never left."

"So . . . how are you going to get there?" Her mother continued now with her eyes never leaving her husband's face.

"Mother. Last time I checked, I had a car . . . and a driver's license? I just got back from Europe. I was on my own there most of the time. You don't think I can drive a few hours south of the City by myself?"

"That's five hours young lady," her father interjected.

"Daniela . . .?"

"I used to make that trip on the weekends, Mom. Remember?"

"Well yes . . . but don't you think you should go with Nicasio?"

"Why?"

"It's just . . . safer,  that's all."

"Well I don't really see it that way. And besides, he's got a lot going on right now."

She suddenly stood and stretched her arms over her head.

"It's final Mom. Dad. I'm going to Santa Barbara tomorrow morning. Don't worry about dinner tonight. I'll be leaving for Waverly stables in a bit. I need to see if my sweetie Baylor Boy missed me as much as I missed him."

"Oh, you and that horse!"

"Daniela? What about work?"

"Two more days Dad. And then I'll think about it.

"Daniela?"

She left the table to the sound of her father's cursing under his breath. As she approached the elevator to the upper floors of the house, her Smartphone rang. It was Nicasio calling from his Blackberry.

"Hello, weary traveler," she answered.

"Dani?  How are you feeling?"

"Just a bit lagged, I guess. Like I've been up for days."

"Technically you have."

"So how was your meeting with the 'spooky' people today?"

"That's why I'm calling. It just got out. Listen . . . Do me a favor."

"No, I'm not going back to Europe with you right now." She laughed.

"I'm not joking with you Daniela. I can't say much more by phone. I just need to meet with you briefly. And please . . . don't contact anyone by email or telephone until you see me. Alright?"

"That's not going to happen, Nicasio. I'm on my way out to Waverly right now. I just need some space with the male of my dreams for a while."

"What? Who?"

"Baylor, lover boy."

"Oh. That. Fine. You'll have it. But meet me there, OK? And just listen to what I have to say. OK?"

Alright, Nicasio. "You'll get ten minutes. The horse gets the rest of the afternoon."

"See you at the stables then."

Daniela entered the elevator and activated its slow ascent to her room.

* * *