"Plenty."
"I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Arthur Danse . The Caves is mine. So if anything's not up to par you have me to blame."
"Really, everything's been perfect. And the room is lovely."
"Thanks. I got lucky on the decorator. You're ... the sister of the bride?"
"Yes. Lydia McCloud."
"Pleased to meet you."
She reached for his hand.
Hers was warm and dry but not as smooth as he'd expected.
She works with her hands , he thought.
Yet she's educated.
Interesting.
She introduced him to the girl sitting next to her, one of the bridesmaids, Cindy something. Cindy Something was grinning at him like today was her birthday and he was her present.
Not likely.
Not with this one around.
"Listen," he said. "If there's anything you need, whatever, napkins, matches, or a B-52 from the bar, please just let me know."
"Excuse me? A B-52 ?"
"Gran Marnier, Kahlua, and Bailey's Irish Cream. Believe me, it's exactly what it says it is."
He turned and watched the dancers for a moment. "Looks like a good party," he said.
"Yes, it is."
"And your sister's a really pretty bride."
"Thank you."
He watched a moment longer.
"Well, I'd better get back to work," he said.
He smiled and turned to leave and then turned back to her again as he'd intended to do all along and gave it a beat, still smiling, looking puzzled now but knowing full well that this was a city girl. Hell, he could smell it on her.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he said.
"No. Boston. I'm just in for a few days, for this."
"Really? I went to school in Boston."
"Did you?"
"Had a restaurant there too—in Cambridge actually—but it went under. To tell you the truth it's been so long since I've talked to a city person I feel like there's hay sticking out of my hair. I don't suppose it would be possible to buy you a drink later on?"
"Well, I ..."
"Or tomorrow night if that's easier for you."
"I ..." She laughed. "Sure. I guess. Why not?"
"Tomorrow night, then. Great. Whenever it's convenient for you. I'll be here. It's good to meet you, Cindy." Always be nice to the girlfriends , he thought.
It was one of the rules.
He walked back across the room smiling, thinking, now where is all this going . He felt strongly attracted to this woman. Up close the eyes were a beautiful amber-green, the skin creamy and smooth and the scent of her a rich clean spicy smell, not sweet or flowery.
He liked the fact that she seemed a little shy, a little puzzled by him—off balance somehow. Maybe walking directly over had been the best thing after all. He hadn't really thought about it at the time. He'd just sensed for some reason that he could not afford to wait. That he had to grab this one fast or she'd be gone.
He wondered why he should care.
He wondered if he was good enough to get her to put off going back to Boston for a day or two.
It'd be interesting to see.
The band was playing a fairly respectable version of Springsteen's "Hungry Heart." He didn't stick around to listen. He had things to do.
He was taking tomorrow night off.
Maybe, if he was lucky, the next couple of nights.
He wondered if Lydia McCloud knew that her life had already changed a bit.
Meeting him.
Lydia turned to Cindy and smiled. Feeling slightly foolish.
Here we go again , she thought. For better or worse, here I am again.
Long Distance
Plymouth, New Hampshire,
and Boston, Massachusetts
June 1985 to September 1986
He had a restaurant to run. She had a good-paying nurse's job at Mass General.
They practically lived on the telephone.
She grew to know him this way, mostly through sleepy late-night calls that would often last an hour or more, going over each other's day. Her work and his. Her family and friends and his. None of whom they knew in common.
Gradually she told him about her life with Jim—or her lack of a life—and something, but not all, about her father. He was sympathetic. He told her about the trouble he'd gotten into as a kid. Truancy, stealing. It
"I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Arthur Danse . The Caves is mine. So if anything's not up to par you have me to blame."
"Really, everything's been perfect. And the room is lovely."
"Thanks. I got lucky on the decorator. You're ... the sister of the bride?"
"Yes. Lydia McCloud."
"Pleased to meet you."
She reached for his hand.
Hers was warm and dry but not as smooth as he'd expected.
She works with her hands , he thought.
Yet she's educated.
Interesting.
She introduced him to the girl sitting next to her, one of the bridesmaids, Cindy something. Cindy Something was grinning at him like today was her birthday and he was her present.
Not likely.
Not with this one around.
"Listen," he said. "If there's anything you need, whatever, napkins, matches, or a B-52 from the bar, please just let me know."
"Excuse me? A B-52 ?"
"Gran Marnier, Kahlua, and Bailey's Irish Cream. Believe me, it's exactly what it says it is."
He turned and watched the dancers for a moment. "Looks like a good party," he said.
"Yes, it is."
"And your sister's a really pretty bride."
"Thank you."
He watched a moment longer.
"Well, I'd better get back to work," he said.
He smiled and turned to leave and then turned back to her again as he'd intended to do all along and gave it a beat, still smiling, looking puzzled now but knowing full well that this was a city girl. Hell, he could smell it on her.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he said.
"No. Boston. I'm just in for a few days, for this."
"Really? I went to school in Boston."
"Did you?"
"Had a restaurant there too—in Cambridge actually—but it went under. To tell you the truth it's been so long since I've talked to a city person I feel like there's hay sticking out of my hair. I don't suppose it would be possible to buy you a drink later on?"
"Well, I ..."
"Or tomorrow night if that's easier for you."
"I ..." She laughed. "Sure. I guess. Why not?"
"Tomorrow night, then. Great. Whenever it's convenient for you. I'll be here. It's good to meet you, Cindy." Always be nice to the girlfriends , he thought.
It was one of the rules.
He walked back across the room smiling, thinking, now where is all this going . He felt strongly attracted to this woman. Up close the eyes were a beautiful amber-green, the skin creamy and smooth and the scent of her a rich clean spicy smell, not sweet or flowery.
He liked the fact that she seemed a little shy, a little puzzled by him—off balance somehow. Maybe walking directly over had been the best thing after all. He hadn't really thought about it at the time. He'd just sensed for some reason that he could not afford to wait. That he had to grab this one fast or she'd be gone.
He wondered why he should care.
He wondered if he was good enough to get her to put off going back to Boston for a day or two.
It'd be interesting to see.
The band was playing a fairly respectable version of Springsteen's "Hungry Heart." He didn't stick around to listen. He had things to do.
He was taking tomorrow night off.
Maybe, if he was lucky, the next couple of nights.
He wondered if Lydia McCloud knew that her life had already changed a bit.
Meeting him.
Lydia turned to Cindy and smiled. Feeling slightly foolish.
Here we go again , she thought. For better or worse, here I am again.
Long Distance
Plymouth, New Hampshire,
and Boston, Massachusetts
June 1985 to September 1986
He had a restaurant to run. She had a good-paying nurse's job at Mass General.
They practically lived on the telephone.
She grew to know him this way, mostly through sleepy late-night calls that would often last an hour or more, going over each other's day. Her work and his. Her family and friends and his. None of whom they knew in common.
Gradually she told him about her life with Jim—or her lack of a life—and something, but not all, about her father. He was sympathetic. He told her about the trouble he'd gotten into as a kid. Truancy, stealing. It
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