“You look tired,” I said as we walked slowly toward our cars.
“Yeah, I am. It was a long night.”
“Martha just walked into my place?”
“Yeah, wearing dark clothes and latex gloves. She made a beeline to the storage cabinet and pried it open with a crowbar. Our plan worked like a champ.”
He shook our hands and turned to head back inside. Max and I watched as he walked away.
Max turned to me, pulled an envelope out of an inner pocket, and said, “Here.”
“What’s this?” I asked.
“An application for a gun permit,” he said. “Fill it out.”
I smiled and accepted the papers. “Thanks, Max. For everything.”
Wes called me as I was driving back to the office. “I hear they’ve made an arrest,” he said.
“I heard something about that, too.”
“What?”
“Just that. Do you know anything?”
“Ha. What a question. Of course I know things.”
“Forgive me. I forgot myself. Of course you do.”
“So, give it up. What do you know?” he asked, his tone urgent.
“I know enough so that we can schedule your exclusive. I’m ready to honor my commitment.”
“Where are you?”
“In my car, why?”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“So we can pick a place to meet.”
“Not now. Later.”
“No way. The story’s hot now, not later.”
Alverez had said they were holding their news conference at four, so I said, “Anytime after six.”
“Come on, Josie,” Wes whined. “Don’t do this to me. We made a deal.”
“Wes, you’re making me crazy. I’m keeping my end of the deal. Jeez. Six tonight at the Blue Dolphin, okay?”
“You’re buying.”
I laughed. “You drive a hard bargain, Wes. Okay.”
Talking to Wes was exhausting. He poked and prodded and seemed insatiable. The only thing that helped me endure his picayune questioning were the ice cold martinis.
At 9:00, we walked together to the parking lot. As I stood beside his car saying good-bye, I spotted a familiar object amidst the tangle of papers and discarded fast-food containers that littered the back floor-Alverez’s card.
I tilted my head, and thought for a moment.
I spent the evening puttering and thinking. I cleaned the bathroom, changed the linen, and made a huge salad. I thought about the love Martha had for Barney, and wondered if I’d ever feel that level of devotion. Not a love that led to murder, obviously, but a passion so complete, so compelling, that striving to satisfy my lover’s needs transcended effort and became a source of contentment and a way of life. Could I find such a love without losing my sense of self or changing my values? For the first time in eons, I felt hopeful that I would.
My outrage and anxiety had passed, and was replaced, it seemed, by exhilaration. I was excited about the future. I had plans for expanding my company with Prescott’s Instant Appraisals and by finally connecting with Britt Epps, an important player in the greater Portsmouth area, a potentially powerful ally in winning new business. I smiled, allowing myself a private “atta girl.”
When I arrived at work the next morning, Alverez was waiting for me, leaning against his SUV. It was a bright, sunny day, warmer by twenty degrees from the day before. I was wearing a blue sleeveless tank top with an oversized denim shirt and jeans.
“Hey,” he said.
He looked more rested than he had yesterday.
I smiled. “It looks like you got some sleep.”
“Like someone shot me.”
“How you doing?”
“Good. You?”
“Good.”
“So, I want to change my answer.”
“To what?”
“You remember when I drove you home? You asked me in. I said no.”
I looked at him. He wore a gray-gold tweed jacket, a tan shirt and brown tie, and khakis. He looked great. His eyes were on me, watchful and kind. He was tall and strong-looking and competent. I’d always found competence sexy.
“I remember. I asked you in during a weak moment. The moment has passed. It was a onetime offer.”
“Too bad. I’m changing my answer to yes, anyway.”
“just like that?”
“Well, I was planning on buying you dinner first.”
I started laughing, and I couldn’t stop. For whatever reason, his comment, delivered with such seeming sincerity, tickled my funny bone, and sent me into paroxysms of delight. Finally, I wound down, and when I could speak, I said, “Don’t look at me that way, or you’ll set me off again.”
“So, is that a yes?” he asked earnestly.
I paused and looked at him. I memorized the moment, filing it away in my head for review whenever I wanted. And I was willing to bet that I’d want to remember this event often. I smiled, and told him, “Hell, yes.”
Jane K. Cleland
