To You and Back

Chapter 9: Let's Talk About Charlie

Dr. Alan Rothmann sat behind a small antique desk writing, with his back to three arched windows, their reddish brown drapes currently closed against the night, facing the room of a couch, a swivel chair, coffee and end tables, and the classic therapist couch, all arrayed on an oriental rug. An antique wood screen stood in the corner, a wooden globe in the other, and two inbuilt bookcases lined with the gleaming spines of collectable volumes flanked a small marble fireplace. The room smelled of cedar and spice, the crackling of flames and the scratch of his pen, and occasional clearing of his throat, were the only sounds for many minutes.

Finally, at a quarter to ten, there was a knock on the door. Dr. Rothmann continued writing, finishing his thought, then put the ballpoint back in its stand and closed his book. Walking around the desk, he went to answer the door, and smiled at the man on the other side of the threshold.

"I was beginning to worry," Rothmann said, his voice tinted with a German accent. He was an average sized man, with a slightly heavy frame, a neatly trimmed reddish beard, and hair streaked with grey brushed straight back from a smooth forehead. He wore small round glasses on a pointed noise, behind which were brilliant green eyes.

Peter Townsend returned the smile as he stepped in and extended a hand. "My apologies, I was held up at work." He was dressed in a grey three-piece suit, with a dark grey shirt and grey striped tie.

They shook hands and Rothmann gestured him in. "May I offer you anything? Tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, uncle," Peter said, taking a seat on the couch and crossing his legs at the knees.

Rothmann took the swivel chair opposite. "Oh, are we visiting first?" he asked.

"No, sorry," Peter said, holding up a hand. "You were kind enough to stay late for me, so we should start. Doctor," he added, with a small incline of his mahogany haired head.

Rothmann smiled and nodded back. "Very well." Picking up a fresh notepad from the table at his right elbow, he balanced it on his knee and looked at the younger man. "It's been some time since our last session."

Peter nodded. "I've been busy. With work."

"The last we spoke you were being considered for a promotion."

"I'm more than considered now; It's as good as mine." A pause. "If I want it."

Grey brows rose above round glasses. "If?"

Peter shifted in his seat and his gaze dropped to his clasped fingers in his lap. "Certain things have changed in the last few months."

"Such as?"

Peter hesitated.

"I do, in fact, have all night, and will bill you for it."

Peter gave a breathy chuckle. "I...have a new assistant," he said slowly. "You may remember him, he's an old friend—well, recently became one again." Dark eyes rose to meet green. "Michael's younger brother, Charlie."

"I see. How long has he been working for you?"

"About four months."

Rothmann's head lowered, and he looked out above his glasses at the other man. "About the last time you saw me."

Peter smiled and shrugged.

Rothmann wrote in the notepad, then looked up. "I'm slightly surprised; you and Charlie were estranged for years, and now he's suddenly your assistant." A pause. "Is that all he is?"

"No," Peter said with a grin he could not help. "There's an...arrangement."

A note was made in the notepad.