Chapter 2

Amita stood outside of Charlie's door, knocking softly. She heard movement inside, and hoped Charlie wasn't wearing headphones, lost in some mathematical twilight zone. Finally, she heard footsteps approaching the door, and said, "Charlie, it's me. You ready to go to breakfast?"

The door opened, and Charlie appeared, bedraggled, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. "I think I'll skip breakfast," he said, smiling feebly. He pressed his hand to his midsection. "I'm not feeling very well this morning."

"Too many cheeseburgers last night?" Amita said, smiling sympathetically.

"Ohhhh, don't remind me," Charlie groaned.

Amita put her arm around Charlie and led him to the sofa. "Come on. Sit. You look like you're going to fall over." She brushed a curl away from his face. "And you feel warm, too."

Charlie slumped down onto the sofa. "How? It's freezing in here? Listen, why don't you and Larry go down to breakfast, and I'll take a shower and get ready for my presentation."

"Charlie, you don't look like you're ..."

"I'm actually feeling better than I was a while ago. I think I've gotten all the bad stuff out of my system." He grimaced as his stomach made a loud gurgling noise. "Maybe not. Gotta run," he stood and hurried to the bathroom.

Amita winced at Charlie's unintentional pun. "We'll check on you after breakfast," she called to his back. "You can always postpone..." she was interrupted by the slamming of the bathroom door.

Shaking her head, she closed Charlie's door behind her and headed to Larry's room. Unlike Charlie, Larry answered the door immediately. "Amita! How are you this wonderful morning?"

"I'm fine. Charlie, however doesn't look so great."

"Oh, dear. Do you think it was all those burgers he ate last night?"

"I think so. You should have seen his face when I asked if he had too many cheeseburgers last night. I've never seen him that shade of green," Amita said with a grin.

"Ah, Amita, you're a cruel woman. Should we contact the organizers and arrange to reschedule Charles' presentation?"

She shrugged. "I thought so, but he says he's feeling better. He's taking a shower and getting ready now. He didn't feel like having breakfast, though, so he said for us to go ahead without him."

They walked downstairs to the restaurant. A hostess greeted them by name and invited them to help themselves to the buffet. Larry looked confused as they crossed the room. "We haven't met that lady before. How did she know our names?"

"I don't know, Larry," Amita said, picking up a plate. "Perhaps Ms. Lindsay has the staff review the security tapes every night."

"Security tapes?" Larry glanced around. "But I don't see any cameras... Oh, Amita! You are in a rare mood this morning. You fooled me."

"Seriously, Larry, I have no idea. Maybe they're given descriptions of the guest so they don't have to stop them and ask for identification." She sighed. "I hope Charlie's okay."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Larry said. "In fact, I think I might have just the thing for him. Excuse me a moment," he said as he headed off in the direction of the hostess.

Amita had filled her plate with fruit and pastries and was pouring herself a cup of tea when he returned. "So?" She asked.

"Our hostess is going to find me some ginger ale and saltine crackers for poor Charles."

"Ginger ale and saltines?" Amita asked incredulously. "Why on earth...?"

"Ginger has been used by the Chinese for over two thousand years to treat indigestion. And saltine crackers are known to help expectant mothers with morning sickness."

Amita giggled. "I hope Charlie doesn't have morning sickness!"

"I'm reasonably certain he does not. However, he needs to have something solid in his stomach if he's going to face the world this morning."

Larry selected scrambled eggs, white bread and butter, and milk, and he and Amita sat down to eat. A few minutes later, the hostess approached, carrying a twenty ounce bottle of ginger ale, and a small box of saltine crackers. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Oh, no, thank you. This is wonderful. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Fleinhardt. I just hope Dr. Eppes feels better. You will let us know if you need anything else, won't you? If he needs one, we can put him in touch with a local doctor. Um," she said, blushing slightly. "I hope you're not medical doctors..."

"Oh, no," Larry said. "We're PhDs. We're hopeless when confronted by a sick colleague."

"Well, enjoy your breakfast, and don't forget to let us know if we can help."

"Thank you," Amita said. "You're very kind."

"You're welcome, dear," the hostess said. She went back to the entrance to greet two gray suited men.

Amita nudged Larry. "Those two look like FBI agents, don't they?"

Larry glanced at the two men. "They could be professors. People on the east coast tend to dress more formally for some unknown reason."

The two men came toward them, nodded politely and continued on to the buffet.

"How's your breakfast?" Larry asked Amita.

"Excellent. How's yours? It looks like you're diversifying. The eggs are yellow."

Larry shrugged. "It was the closest thing to white I could find. They are excellent, by the way. I am so glad Charles found this place."

After they had finished eating, Larry picked up the ginger ale and crackers and they thanked the hostess again on the way out.

Charlie answered immediately when Larry knocked on the door. He had showered and shaved, and was toweling his hair. "Charlie!" Amita said, "You look so much better than you did earlier."

"I told you I was feeling better. Just don't mention cheeseburgers," Charlie said as he led the way into the room. He grinned when he saw the ginger ale and crackers. "Larry! Thank you! How did you know about Mom's miracle cure for all gastro-intestinal ailments? You didn't call my father, did you?"

"No. Actually, until I mentioned this to Amita, I thought everybody knew about the healing powers of ginger ale."

Charlie sat on the edge of his bed and opened the ginger ale. He took a small sip, swished it around in his mouth and swallowed it. After he took a second sip, he sighed and rubbed his stomach. "Much better. Listen, we'd better get over there. I'm almost ready." He caught Amita's amused glance at his robe. "Almost. Where should be meet?"

"How about the lobby?" Amita said, glancing at her watch. "Fifteen minutes?"

Charlie was only five minutes late. Amita gave him an admiring look as he came down the stairs. "Nice," she said. "New sport jacket?"

"Yes, it is. Do I look too yuppie?"

"Not at all. I like the khakis with the navy jacket. But, sneakers? Charlie!"

"We're going to be doing a lot of walking. I want to be comfortable."

"How are you feeling, Charles?" Larry asked, concern in his face.

"Not quite 100. More like 65. I may just come back here after my presentation is done," he said. "But you two stay as long as you want." He handed Amita a set of keys. "And if you feel like driving around, take the rental car. I'm sorry I'm such a lousy host."

Amita touched his cheek. "Don't worry about it. Hopefully this is just a twenty-four hour thing, and you'll be your old self tomorrow."

"I hope you're right. There is so much here I want to show you. Well, we should head out."

"How far do we have to go? Should we take the car?" Larry asked.

"It's easier to walk," Charlie said. "We're meeting in Fine Hall," he pulled out a campus map. "We're up here, just north of campus. Fine Hall is here," he pointed to a building on the opposite side of the campus.

"Charles, are you sure?"

Charlie patted Larry on the shoulder and opened the door. "I'm sure."