dinner since his wife died?"
"Do you realize that you shouldn't be talking like that, Hilda? They're grown people, what they do is their business. And if he wants to take a pretty woman to dinner, why not?"
"Did I say it was wrong? I think it's wonderful!"
"Good. Then take them their coffee and shut up." He patted her gently on the behind and went back to see that all his guests had what they needed, and a moment later he saw John and Daphne talking over their coffee, he was telling her something funny and she was laughing like a little girl.
"And then what did you tell them?" Her eyes still looked amused.
"That if they couldn't run a logging camp, then they should run a ballet. And you know what, damned It'six months later they didn't sell the business and wind up buying some kind of dance troupe in Chicago." He shook his head, his eyes still laughing. "Damn fools." He had been telling her about the pair of New York phonies who had been thinking of buying a business a few years back, and running it for a tax loss. "Hell, I didn't get that place running like I did just for two jackasses from New York to come in and blow it. Not like that."
"Do you like the work, John?" She was intrigued by him. He was obviously intelligent, well read, aware of what was happening in the world at large, and yet he had lived all his life in this tiny New England village, and worked with his strong back and his hands.
"Yes, I like it. It suits me. I'd never have been happy in an office. I could have. Sally's father ran a bank here and all he wanted was to get me to work with him, but it wasn't me. This suits me better, out in the air all day, dealing with the men, working with my hands." He smiled at her. "I'm a laborer at heart, Mrs. Fields." But it was obvious that there was a great deal more to him than that. But what the laboring had done was give him an earthiness, a strength, a sense of reality, and a chance to observe human nature. He was a wise man, and as the evening wore on she found that she liked that about him. It was over dessert that he looked at her for a long moment and then took one of her hands in his own. "We've both lost a great deal, you and I, and yet here we are, strong and alive, we've survived it."
"I wasn't always sure I would." It was a relief to admit that to somebody.
"You always will. But you don't know that yet, do you?"
"Sometimes I have my doubts. Sometimes I think I won't make it another day."
"You will." He said it with quiet confidence. "But maybe it's time you stopped fighting all your wars alone." He had sensed instantly that there had been no one in her life for a very long time. She had the kind of silent sorrow of a woman who has almost forgotten the gentle touch of loving. "Has there been anyone in your life since your husband died, Daphne, or shouldn't I ask?"
She smiled and looked shy, the huge cornflower eyes suddenly even bigger. "You can ask. No, there hasn't. In fact"--she blushed and he felt an almost irresistible urge to kiss her--"this is the first date I've ever had ... since ..." She didn't have to say the rest. He understood.
"What a waste of a beautiful woman." But this time his words were too much, and she turned her eyes away from his.
"It was better that way. There was more of me to give to Andrew."
"And now?"
"I don't know...." She looked troubled as she said the words. "I don't know what I'll do without him."
"I think"--he narrowed his eyes as he watched her--"I think that you're going to do something very important."
She laughed and shook her head, amused by what he said. "Like what? Run for Congress?"
"Maybe, if that's what you want. But it isn't. There's something deep inside you, Daphne, that's aching to come out. And maybe one of these days you'll let it." She was stunned by his words. She had often thought the same thing, and the only release that she had for what she felt was in her journals. For a moment she wanted to tell him about them, but then suddenly she
"Do you realize that you shouldn't be talking like that, Hilda? They're grown people, what they do is their business. And if he wants to take a pretty woman to dinner, why not?"
"Did I say it was wrong? I think it's wonderful!"
"Good. Then take them their coffee and shut up." He patted her gently on the behind and went back to see that all his guests had what they needed, and a moment later he saw John and Daphne talking over their coffee, he was telling her something funny and she was laughing like a little girl.
"And then what did you tell them?" Her eyes still looked amused.
"That if they couldn't run a logging camp, then they should run a ballet. And you know what, damned It'six months later they didn't sell the business and wind up buying some kind of dance troupe in Chicago." He shook his head, his eyes still laughing. "Damn fools." He had been telling her about the pair of New York phonies who had been thinking of buying a business a few years back, and running it for a tax loss. "Hell, I didn't get that place running like I did just for two jackasses from New York to come in and blow it. Not like that."
"Do you like the work, John?" She was intrigued by him. He was obviously intelligent, well read, aware of what was happening in the world at large, and yet he had lived all his life in this tiny New England village, and worked with his strong back and his hands.
"Yes, I like it. It suits me. I'd never have been happy in an office. I could have. Sally's father ran a bank here and all he wanted was to get me to work with him, but it wasn't me. This suits me better, out in the air all day, dealing with the men, working with my hands." He smiled at her. "I'm a laborer at heart, Mrs. Fields." But it was obvious that there was a great deal more to him than that. But what the laboring had done was give him an earthiness, a strength, a sense of reality, and a chance to observe human nature. He was a wise man, and as the evening wore on she found that she liked that about him. It was over dessert that he looked at her for a long moment and then took one of her hands in his own. "We've both lost a great deal, you and I, and yet here we are, strong and alive, we've survived it."
"I wasn't always sure I would." It was a relief to admit that to somebody.
"You always will. But you don't know that yet, do you?"
"Sometimes I have my doubts. Sometimes I think I won't make it another day."
"You will." He said it with quiet confidence. "But maybe it's time you stopped fighting all your wars alone." He had sensed instantly that there had been no one in her life for a very long time. She had the kind of silent sorrow of a woman who has almost forgotten the gentle touch of loving. "Has there been anyone in your life since your husband died, Daphne, or shouldn't I ask?"
She smiled and looked shy, the huge cornflower eyes suddenly even bigger. "You can ask. No, there hasn't. In fact"--she blushed and he felt an almost irresistible urge to kiss her--"this is the first date I've ever had ... since ..." She didn't have to say the rest. He understood.
"What a waste of a beautiful woman." But this time his words were too much, and she turned her eyes away from his.
"It was better that way. There was more of me to give to Andrew."
"And now?"
"I don't know...." She looked troubled as she said the words. "I don't know what I'll do without him."
"I think"--he narrowed his eyes as he watched her--"I think that you're going to do something very important."
She laughed and shook her head, amused by what he said. "Like what? Run for Congress?"
"Maybe, if that's what you want. But it isn't. There's something deep inside you, Daphne, that's aching to come out. And maybe one of these days you'll let it." She was stunned by his words. She had often thought the same thing, and the only release that she had for what she felt was in her journals. For a moment she wanted to tell him about them, but then suddenly she
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