Rob smiled wanly. “By posting naked pictures of her.”
Lorne burst into loud, easy laughter. The young girl squeezed in beside Lorne looked up at him, then laughed as well. The laughter spread down the bench.
Someone pinged Rob; he was still so unused to wearing a system again that the sound startled him. He looked to see who it was.
There was nothing but plain, unadorned text in the upper right corner of his vision. Nothing but a name.
Winter West.
Rob leaped from the bench. “Be right back.” He trotted out toward the big tubes, which were inactive at this time of day.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” She sounded, what? Reluctant? Apologetic? Certainly not excited. The connection was voice-only; he wished he could see her.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. I just got back from my honeymoon a few days ago.”
That explained her delay in getting in touch. Part of it, anyway. “You’re alive. I can’t believe it.”
“I’m alive.”
He waited for more.
“Are you free? Can we meet?” he finally blurted, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.
“Right now?” Her tone was like a lead weight in his gut. She sounded uneasy, as if she was trying to think of an excuse to decline. “I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to stay long. Red’s coming home from a trip around eight.”
“That’s okay.”
“All right, then.” Again, she sounded almost pained.
“Great.” Once they were face-to-face, the awkwardness would melt away. They would fall into that comfortable intimacy they’d enjoyed in the cryocenter.
“Where?” she asked.
“Somewhere in Low Town? Stain’s Coffee?” Rob didn’t know where Winter was living, but thought it safe to assume it was in High Town.
“I don’t want to meet too close to where I used to live; it would be strange, bumping into people I used to know.”
He started to ask why that would be strange, then got it. She’d already contacted her closest friends. Others would be shocked to see Winter alive. Winter would have to explain how she managed to get revived, then there’d be an awkward exchange where the former acquaintance would convey to Winter that it was okay to be a bridesicle, that she had nothing to be ashamed of.
“I understand.” He didn’t care where they met; he just wanted to see her.
“Somewhere outside? It’s hard for me to be inside, since the crèche. When Red is away, sometimes I sleep on the roof,” she laughed.
“No, I understand. How about Central Park? There’s a bridge with beautiful ironwork on the West Side—”
“I know which one you mean. Give me an hour?”
“See you then.” He didn’t want to give her an hour; he wanted to see her that very moment. She would be walking, moving her arms, breathing.
He trotted back to the bench, saw that Lorne was about three-quarters of the way through his dinner. Rob sat, made a show of eating some banana fries, though his heart was racing and he had zero appetite.
“Who was it?” Lorne asked, studying Rob.
“It was Winter. I’m meeting her in an hour.” Saying it, he felt a stupid swell of pride.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Lorne shook his head in wonder. “Be sure you record this. This is really something.” He looked down the bench, as if contemplating sharing the story with someone, then he clapped Rob on the back. “Go on, get going. I’ll see you at home.”
Rob sprung from the bench and jogged off.
44
Rob
Rob spotted the bridge ahead, a graceful curve of weathered steel spanning nothing but a walking trail, the railing decorated with ornate steel clover shapes. He stopped at the center, pressed his palm to the cool steel railing. He and Penny had broken up on this bridge. Under it, actually, on the walk that ran beneath. From where he was standing, Rob could see the little orange fire hydrant he’d propped his foot on while they talked.
He was twenty minutes early; he scanned for Winter in case she was early as well. He wanted to spot her when she was still far off, so he could watch her move without her being aware he was watching.
Rob wiped his sweaty palm on his thigh and set it back on the railing. What should he say as she approached? When he and Penny used to play romantic-comedy interactives with the scoring enabled, Rob always won, was always better at snapping off those pithy romantic lines that racked up points. Now his mind was blank.
He watched an ultralight copter flit over the lake in the distance. Maybe he should say nothing, just wait until she was standing beside him at the rail, the two of them enjoying the view in silence.
The copter rose over the trees along the trail. Rob expected it to continue rising and fly away, but it paused, then touched down on the trail a hundred yards away.
Winter stepped out. She waved to the pilot as the copter lifted off, then turned toward the bridge.
She spotted Rob, lifted a hand. He waved back. She let her fingers drop, but kept her hand raised. She was simply beautiful. Coils of deep burgundy flowed across her bare shoulders; her lips were drawn in a half smile. She dropped her head and walked toward him, in no hurry.
Rob’s mouth was dry, his heart racing, as she joined him on the bridge. She was small—smaller than she’d seemed in the crèche and in the videos. There was a light dusting of freckles on her arms.
“It’s good to see you, Rob.” She made no move to hug him, only joined him at the railing, looking toward the spot where the copter had deposited her.
“It’s good to see you, too.” Not a line that would have racked up points in a rom-com interactive. “You did it. I can’t believe it.”
She chuckled, glanced at him, beautiful eyelashes rising over lively green eyes. “I did it? I could barely move my face, and I sounded like a swamp harpy. You and your musketeers did it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have waited this long to thank you.”
It was another fine moment for an embrace that didn’t come. They watched a goose launch itself off the lake, honking enthusiastically.
“So what’s your life like?” Rob asked.
She rubbed her forehead, smiling, considering the question. “I wake up, tell a drone what I want for breakfast, take a bath in a tub the size of a swimming pool.” She shrugged. “It’s an easy life. Red warned me that he’s going to be gone a lot. Three of his kids live on the island—”
“The island? You live on one of those three-legged estates on the water?” All this time he’d been picturing her in a penthouse in High Town, when she’d actually been on an estate, a hundred feet above the water.
Winter nodded. “Out in the upper bay, close to the ocean. Along with Red’s extended family—kids, grandkids, nephews, nieces.”
“Nice people?”
“No.” She said it flippantly, as if it didn’t matter.
Rob frowned. “What do you mean?”
She sighed. “Mostly they ignore me, as if I’m a pet Labradoodle Red brought home.” She shrugged. “There are worse things.”
“Do they think you’re horning in on their inheritance?”
Winter guffawed. “Are you kidding? I don’t inherit anything; it’s all spelled out in the contract. You’re not in a strong negotiating position when you’re in a coffin. They just see me as a low person, someone to look nice at Redmond’s side at public events, and for him to fuck.”
Rob winced, trying to mask his reaction. “You’re on Red’s insurance now, though, aren’t you?”
Winter nodded absently. Rob assumed she was having a second conversation on her system, then realized she wasn’t working her system, she was simply fidgeting with an emerald embedded in it. Her mind was elsewhere.