it could be perfect

Duncan was thinking he'd played this out right. Good Karma. It was really an accident with Camille.

He'd sort of wondered just where she came from. What kind of woman she was. Was she one one of those hippie chicks that made her on laundry detergent? Or one of those would be New Yorkers who hated suburbia?

He scratched the back of his head now thinking how could this possibly be. The basement was massive and practically empty. But there was a regular sized bed, a fire place, even a bathroom. The TV might not have been flat screened, but she had cable.

"Its practically a man cave." He grinned.

"I hadn't thought of it that way." She told him. There was a walk in basement door, so he didn't have to use the upstairs for anything. "I got rid of a bunch of junk. Actually, my ex-husband's junk. We put in the laundry room upstairs by the kitchen." She told him it was free, a good bit, but if there was a day in particular he might need it... "We'll figure something out."

He nodded and checked out the bathroom. There was a shower and sink. He never took a bath, anyway.

"So, how much?" He wanted to know.

"I don't know. Its just the basement." Camille shrugged.

Duncan smelled dinner upstairs. It was heavenly and definitely Italian.

"What's cooking?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Just lasagna." Camille shrugged again as if it were no big deal.

"Can I move in right now?" He wasn't sure he could bare it at Jane's place alone, another night. All there was to eat were old canned beans and a little white bread.

"Sure, you, don't want to eat first?" She smiled as if she was glad he was here.

Duncan couldn't help but grin. It was the best question he'd heard in an awful long time.