Surprised, she almost dropped Andrew as she spun. I caught a flicker of a smile which disappeared. ‘Yeah we slept okay. The kids are a handful, thou...h.’ ‘Needs some help?’ ‘No, I got it. Thanks’ In a couple minutes she had them fastened in their seats and closed the door. Something is bothering her. ‘What’s the matter?’ ‘Thanks for yesterday. Thanks for the room.’ She stood waiting, wanting me to reply. ‘Claire, what’s wrong. Maybe I can help, tell me.’ She stood there, thinking, not speaking.. It took hours, proceeding jerkily, like a backward interview. We paused to examine what question would lead to the episode that I had just recounted. At the end of my story, Professor Finch had a pad full of questions. It was nearly midnight."That was dreadful," I complained. "I'm completely stressed." "I'm sure you'll do much better with your interview subjects than I did with you. You're so pleasant to talk to." "Thank you, but if you want me to say another word, you'll have to get me a. More

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