She chuckled, low and throaty and suggestive.
I waited.
“Most guys your age would be flustered, especially walking arm-in-arm like this, with my body pressed against them. Or they wouldn’t be able to walk at all.” She smiled up at me. “I know the effect I have on men. But not you. I felt that as soon as I took your arm.”
“Oh? You did?”
“Mmm hmm. You reacted, but like a grown man—an experienced man—
not a horny teenager.”
“So you’re flirting with me on purpose?”
“Sort of,” she admitted. “I like you. And I’m fairly sure you know the difference between harmless flirting and the serious kind.”
“So you’re harmless?”
“Yes. As far as you’re concerned, at least.”
“Too bad. Maybe in another life…”
She laughed. “I’m… what? Ten years older than you?”
More like thirteen, I thought, but decided to flatter instead of insult her.
“Sexy never gets old.”
“What about married?”
“Married women have affairs all the time, especially with younger men.”
She laughed when she realized I was bantering instead of serious. “Now who’s flirting with whom?”
“Hey, I’m harmless,” I said. “As far as you’re concerned. Besides, you started it.”
“Oh, dear. Birdy’s in real trouble. It’s a good thing you seem to understand her.”
“I do,” I admitted. “And I’m not looking for a notch on my bedpost.”
“No, that’s not—”
“I know it wasn’t. You and Anne seem to have a pretty good idea what I’m about.”
“We hope so.”
“But tonight—this conversation—is about making sure.”
“Are we that obvious?”
“To anyone who’s paying attention.”
She nodded.
“Or anyone who grew up with strong women. And who wants the same thing himself.”
“Mmm, I see.”
We walked in silence for a minute or so. Ahead of us, Christy and Harry were looking at the night sky as he pointed out constellations.
“So,” I said eventually, “what’re you going to tell Christy?”
“About her ‘marital’ questions?” She studied me for a moment. “I think she made the right decision.”
“In me? Or to wait.”
“In you. As far as the other… if she thinks she’s ready, she shouldn’t feel guilty about anything she does.” She looked up at me. “Besides, you don’t seem like the type to pressure her into something.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Definitely not.”
“Because the wedding might be a long way off”—she grinned—“but things are going to happen long before then.”
“Ha! She told you?”
“She did. She’s excited. Nervous too. So take your time.”
“I will. I am.”
“That’s what she said.”
I nodded.
Christy and Harry turned around and started back toward us.
Marianne shifted conversational gears without a pause. “How do you know so much about Keats and Shelley?”
“My mother has an English degree. She wanted to get her Master’s and teach, but I came along. So she taught me and my sister instead. How about you?”
“The benefits of private school,” she said with a touch of embarrassment.
“My father’s idea of what a ‘proper young lady’ should be.”
I heard the quotes.
“So now you understand why Birdy and I get along well. We have a lot in common.”
“Right. Protective father and Catholic school for her…”
“Protective father and private school for me.”
I turned us to join the other couple as they drew near.
Marianne continued, “I never saw much of the real world until I went to college. Then I met Harry here, who thoroughly opened my eyes.”
“You were peeking before I met you,” he said. He glanced at me. “You mind if I have my wife back?”
“Not at all. If I can have my girlfriend.”
“She’s all yours. If you can keep her, that is.”
“I have a nefarious plan,” I said blandly, which earned a squeak from Christy. “I’m going to lock her in a tower.”
“Good luck with that,” Harry laughed. “She can be a handful.”
“True. But she’s smart, talented, and beautiful too. So it balances out.”
“Oh, he’s good,” Harry said to his wife.
“I told you,” she said.
Christy ducked under my arm and smiled up at me for a kiss, which I gave her.
“Don’t let Dad see you doing that,” Harry warned.
“I think he knows what’s going on,” Marianne told him. “Your mom certainly does. Why do you think we’re on chaperone duty?”
“Is that what this is?” he asked mildly. “I thought it was just a nice walk with my wife and sister.”
“Mmm hmm. Of course you did.”
Christy and I behaved when we went to bed, and neither of us tried to sneak into the other’s room. I slept like a log, although I still woke up ridiculously early. I had a mild hangover, so I went for a run through the beachfront park and then nursed a glass of orange juice back at the house.
Christy started packing to leave after breakfast, but she still took almost two hours. We didn’t have a schedule, per se, but we were supposed to call the cabin when we arrived at the airport in Truckee. As it turned out, the delay actually saved us some frustration.
Trip called while Christy was still getting ready. His father had gone to the hospital with chest pains, so he and Wren were watching the boys while his stepmother stayed with his father. They said they’d meet us in Squaw Valley as soon as they could. In the meantime, he gave me the address for the cabin and told me where to find the spare key.
“Got it. Thanks,” I said. “What’s the prognosis for your dad?”
“The doctors say it was just a mild heart attack,” he said, “but they still wanna run a few tests and maybe keep him overnight.”
“I hope that’s all it was.”
“They’re pretty sure. He’s ready to go home now, but the doctors are being cautious. We’re gonna take Dale and Josh to see him later this afternoon if they keep him overnight. We’ll be okay. Just here another day, maybe two.”
“Okay. Call the cabin and let us know how he is.”
“Sure thing. Tonight. In the meantime, have fun for us, dude.”
“Will do,” I said.
We said goodbye and hung up, and I explained to my concerned audience.
“I hope he’s all right,” Anne said.
“Do you need to stay here another day?” Harold asked. “Or fly to Nashville instead?”
Anne said, “It sounds like they’re taking good care of him.”
“Taking care of who?” Christy asked when she entered the kitchen with her overnight bag. Her eyes went round when I told her. “Oh my gosh. I hope he’s okay.”
“Sounds like he’s fine,” I said. “They’re just running some tests to be sure.”
“You should probably stay here,” Harold said, “close to the phone.”
I didn’t glare at him, but only through concerted willpower.
“They have a phone in the cabin,” Anne said. “You heard him say so, dear.”
“I know. But the lines might be down. We know they can reach him here.”
“They’ll be able to reach him there, too. Christine, dear, finish bringing your things and we’ll take you to the airport.”
Christy looked from her mother to her father.
“I’ll help,” I said. “How much more do you have?”
She winced guiltily. “Another suitcase and two more bags. But the extras are my skis and boots!”
“You’re a little thing,” I chuckled, “but you don’t travel like it.”
I’d rented a Comanche 260 from one of the big San Diego flying clubs, which was a huge eye-opener compared to mine in Knoxville. Earl Walker ran a sleepy little FBO, but the one at Montgomery Field was a major operation, a bustle of people, planes, and activity.
Harold and Anne walked out to the plane with us, and I could almost feel him working up to an objection. I did my best to ignore him as I loaded everything into the baggage compartment and then stowed our ski bags in the rear seat.