but as the days passed, he was learning to live with it. He could not imagine ever falling in love again, but perhaps someday he would think differently about it. He remembered the brief moment when Klein had surprised him: He had reached for his Beretta. It had been a completely automatic response, and he never would have guessed that he would have done that.
“You've come a long way for an answer,” Jon said noncommittally.
“We think it's an important question.”
He nodded. “Where do I get in touch with you if I decide that I'm interested?”
Klein stood. He gave off the air of a roan who had accomplished what he had set out to do. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a simple white business card. On it was his name and a Washington phone number. “Don't be put off by whatever business answers. Just tell them your name and that you'd like to speak to me. We'll take it from there.”
“I didn't say I was going to do this.”
Klein nodded knowingly. He looked across the expansive view. A white seagull flew past, its feet tucked high as it rode the ocean air. “Nice here. Too many palm trees for my taste though.” He picked up his briefcase and headed into the house. “Don't bother to get up. I know my way out.” And he was gone.
Jon sat there another hour. Then he opened the gate on his porch and walked down onto the sand. It was warm on his feet. Automatically he turned east for his daily walk. The sun was behind him, and ahead the beach seemed to stretch into infinity. As he strolled, he thought about the future. He figured it was time.
