Adam says, after some hesitation, "I think I'm forty-six."
"You think you are forty-six", says Carol.
"But", and looking a little unsettled, decides to play with the idea, "I could be mistaken."
"Are you being serious?" she says.
"Thing is, am I ever being serious", Adam quips, "But, no, I do not know my correct age. Some time ago, before I came to the Place of the Transfiguration, I had forgotten my past, and had to invent one, but then that soon fell through...kind of." And now he looks up at everyone, now authentically perplexed and vulnerable, as though knowing that he cannot easily play his way out of this one.
"Where is your family", Carol asks.
"I imagine they're all dead. I believe my mother was a ballerina, the Kirov in Russia, but everything is pretty vague. I somehow ended up with about a half dozen vintage Faberge eggs in my possession, which I sold to various dealers, including Matthew here, when he had his antique business, and then I brought him with me to the Place of the Transfiguration."
"On Vancouver Island", Carl says. "How did you arrive there."
"I was just there. I showed up one day, and didn't have a clue how I got there But they all welcomed me, and I was already a believing Christian, so everything fell into place, except, I can't remember. Anything.
"How very extraordinary", Carol says. "I am so very sorry that I probed so much."
"It's okay", says Adam, smiling and maintaining composure, "It's been common knowledge here for a while. At least to my closest friends here..."
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