“Apache warriors,” Crow said.
“Are you really an Apache?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew I wanted this,” she said.
“Yes,” Crow said, and smiled. “And if I was wrong, what’d I lose?”
“A hundred-dollar bottle of champagne,” Marcy said.
“Three hundred,” Crow said.
Marcy smiled.
“So maybe all that Apache warrior stuff is crap,” she said.
“Maybe,” Crow said.
“But maybe not?” Marcy said.
“You’d like it to be real,” Crow said. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Marcy said. “I would.”
“It’s real to me,” Crow said.
“I only ever wanted to do this once,” Marcy said.
Crow nodded.
“I’d rather it not happen again,” Marcy said.
“Okay,” Crow said.
“Don’t think it wasn’t wonderful,” Marcy said.
“I don’t think that,” Crow said.
“I had a fantasy and I fulfilled it.”
“Sure,” Crow said.
“You understand?” Marcy said.
“Sure.”
The champagne was gone. Crow looked at the empty bottle and stood.
“Time to go,” he said.
Marcy nodded. They walked to the door together. At the door Marcy put her arms around him and then kissed him hard.
“Good-bye,” she said.
“Good-bye,” Crow said, and walked out and closed the door.
37.
Miriam Fiedler invited Jesse for lunch at the Paradise Yacht Club. In honor of the occasion Jesse wore a blue blazer.
“Well,” Miriam said when he joined her at a table on the veranda with a view across the harbor to the town. “You dressed up, I’m flattered.”
“The blazer covers up my gun,” Jesse said.
