and laughed.
“And that’s how Cheapdog got his name.”
“Isn’t there any old English sheep dog in him at all?” Jennifer asked.
“There must be some,” Zack said, “because every time Princess Di or Prince Charles comes on the television, he stands up.”
“That’s silly.” She thought for a moment, and then added, “I like that story.” Again, she formally shook Zack’s hand. Then she turned and raced up the stairs.
“Thanks again for dinner,” he called out after her.
“I like that story, too,” Suzanne said after the footsteps overhead had died away. “And I really liked the way you talked to Jen. Person-to-person, not grown-up to child. No condescension. And believe me, she appreciated it, too.”
“Thanks. That girl doesn’t encourage anything approaching kid talk, believe me.”
Suzanne nodded somewhat sadly. “She’s had to do a lot of growing up in a fairly short time. My marriage and divorce were a bit—how should I say—turbulent.”
“Oh?”
For a moment, she looked as if she might want to expand on the remark, but then she shook her head. “Fodder for another evening,” she said.
She chewed at her lower lip, rested her chin on one hand, and stared into her cup of coffee. There was a sadness in her eyes, but there was also, Zack observed, something else—a restlessness, perhaps; a tenseness in the set of the muscles in her face and neck.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
Suzanne hesitated, and then pushed away from the table and stood up. “I think we’d better call it a night,” she said. “I have a really busy day tomorrow, and I have a lot of things to sort through before I go to bed. You’ve been great company—for both of us—but I guess I just need some time alone.”
Nonplussed, Zack glanced at his watch. It was not yet quarter to eight.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged and nodded. For a few seconds it seemed as if she were about to cry.
“I’m sorry, Zack,” she said finally, “but I guess this just wasn’t a good night for me to be charming and entertaining. God, it seems like all I ever do around you is apologize. Well, forgive me, anyhow. I’ll make it up to you some other time. I promise.”
She waited until he had stood up, and then locked her arm in his and guided him across the screened-in porch and down the wooden front steps. The subtle scent of her and the touch of her breast against his sleeve made his sudden dismissal that much more confusing and painful.
He shuffled along beside her, wishing he were less inexperienced in understanding women, and feeling totally inadequate and foolish for not knowing what to say.
At the camper, she once again apologized for cutting their evening short and promised him a rain check good for one after-dinner conversation sometime very soon. He reached for the handle and then stopped and turned back to her.
“Yes?” she asked, eyeing him appraisingly, as she had that first night.
“Suzanne, I … I know that somethings bothering you,” he heard himself say. “I only wanted to say that whatever it is, I hope it comes out the way you want.”
He hesitated, expecting her to thank him politely for his concern and send him on his way.
She did neither.
“I’m afraid I’ve been guilty of not paying attention,” he went on. “I guess I was just too busy indulging my own fantasies. Look, I just want you to know I’m glad we’ve met, and I’m grateful as hell we’re becoming friends.” He opened the door to the van. “If you ever do want to talk about whatever it is, I’m available … no strings attached. In fact, for a modest fee I’ll even omit the coin tricks.”
He moved to kiss her on the cheek, but then thought better of it and climbed up behind the wheel of the camper.
“Zack, wait a minute,” she called as he began to back away. He stopped and leaned out the window. “There’s a spot halfway up the hill behind the house where you can see almost the whole valley.
“And that’s how Cheapdog got his name.”
“Isn’t there any old English sheep dog in him at all?” Jennifer asked.
“There must be some,” Zack said, “because every time Princess Di or Prince Charles comes on the television, he stands up.”
“That’s silly.” She thought for a moment, and then added, “I like that story.” Again, she formally shook Zack’s hand. Then she turned and raced up the stairs.
“Thanks again for dinner,” he called out after her.
“I like that story, too,” Suzanne said after the footsteps overhead had died away. “And I really liked the way you talked to Jen. Person-to-person, not grown-up to child. No condescension. And believe me, she appreciated it, too.”
“Thanks. That girl doesn’t encourage anything approaching kid talk, believe me.”
Suzanne nodded somewhat sadly. “She’s had to do a lot of growing up in a fairly short time. My marriage and divorce were a bit—how should I say—turbulent.”
“Oh?”
For a moment, she looked as if she might want to expand on the remark, but then she shook her head. “Fodder for another evening,” she said.
She chewed at her lower lip, rested her chin on one hand, and stared into her cup of coffee. There was a sadness in her eyes, but there was also, Zack observed, something else—a restlessness, perhaps; a tenseness in the set of the muscles in her face and neck.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
Suzanne hesitated, and then pushed away from the table and stood up. “I think we’d better call it a night,” she said. “I have a really busy day tomorrow, and I have a lot of things to sort through before I go to bed. You’ve been great company—for both of us—but I guess I just need some time alone.”
Nonplussed, Zack glanced at his watch. It was not yet quarter to eight.
“That’s it?”
She shrugged and nodded. For a few seconds it seemed as if she were about to cry.
“I’m sorry, Zack,” she said finally, “but I guess this just wasn’t a good night for me to be charming and entertaining. God, it seems like all I ever do around you is apologize. Well, forgive me, anyhow. I’ll make it up to you some other time. I promise.”
She waited until he had stood up, and then locked her arm in his and guided him across the screened-in porch and down the wooden front steps. The subtle scent of her and the touch of her breast against his sleeve made his sudden dismissal that much more confusing and painful.
He shuffled along beside her, wishing he were less inexperienced in understanding women, and feeling totally inadequate and foolish for not knowing what to say.
At the camper, she once again apologized for cutting their evening short and promised him a rain check good for one after-dinner conversation sometime very soon. He reached for the handle and then stopped and turned back to her.
“Yes?” she asked, eyeing him appraisingly, as she had that first night.
“Suzanne, I … I know that somethings bothering you,” he heard himself say. “I only wanted to say that whatever it is, I hope it comes out the way you want.”
He hesitated, expecting her to thank him politely for his concern and send him on his way.
She did neither.
“I’m afraid I’ve been guilty of not paying attention,” he went on. “I guess I was just too busy indulging my own fantasies. Look, I just want you to know I’m glad we’ve met, and I’m grateful as hell we’re becoming friends.” He opened the door to the van. “If you ever do want to talk about whatever it is, I’m available … no strings attached. In fact, for a modest fee I’ll even omit the coin tricks.”
He moved to kiss her on the cheek, but then thought better of it and climbed up behind the wheel of the camper.
“Zack, wait a minute,” she called as he began to back away. He stopped and leaned out the window. “There’s a spot halfway up the hill behind the house where you can see almost the whole valley.
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