Talk of the Town by Suzanne Macpherson Page A

dead and stood holding the screen open wide, like her mouth.
    There he stood on the sidewalk with a tandem bike and a large bouquet of daisies. He had on an old-fashioned tweed bicycle hat.
    “Date number one!” Sam called.
    Myrtle came over and put her arm around Kelly. “He’s smart, just not too subtle,” Myrtle said under her breath.
    Kelly agreed. “We might as well take an ad out in the Paradise Pioneer: Local nutcase lawyer dates new girl in town. ”
    She grabbed the strap of her shoulder bag and marched out the door, ready for anything.
    “I thought you’d look sweet on a bicycle built for two,” Sam said as he handed her the daisies and kissed her cheek.
    “Hold on, let me get my Brownie camera,” Myrtle hollered through the screen.
    “Do Brownie cameras still exist?” Kelly asked. She and Sam posed for Myrtle, then waved goodbye and tried to get their act together. After some wobbly starts and flat-out falls, peppered by laughter coming from the Hen House audience, they made a synchronized attempt.
    “ One, two, three, go, ” Sam directed from the back. They jumped together, started pedaling madly, and were up! She heard clapping behind them.
    “Hey, we work pretty well with each other, Miss Applebee .”
    “That remains to be seen, Mr. Grayson. We haven’t had our first fight yet.”
    “Call me Sam, honey.”
    Kelly craned around to give him a look, almost steering them into a tree. She straightened out abruptly as Sam started singing “Bicycle Built for Two” again.
    “What are you, nuts?” Kelly called over her shoulder.
    They rolled along past neighbors and whitepicket fences until there were more hay fields than houses, and the road got bumpier. It took a really long time. Her butt was getting sore.
    “Turn right here, Kelly.”
    He directed her to a field with rolling grass hills surrounding a small lake. Willow trees bowed graceful branches into the calm water, the breeze lifting them like skirts.
    They walked the bike to a picnic table. Sam proceeded to lay out a tablecloth, linen napkins, then china. Out came still-warm croissants wrapped in foil, fresh-squeezed orange juice, Brie, smoked honey ham, some kind of papaya chutney stuff, a very colorful melon and grape salad, and a wonderful-looking quiche.
    “Quite the magician, Sam. Where did all this food come from?” Kelly asked suspiciously.
    “Leftovers,” Sam replied. He slathered an open croissant with Brie and laid a piece of the fragrant ham across it with a smidgen of chutney, then offered Kelly a bite.
    “From what, the social? This stuff comes from deeply gourmet roots, Sam.” Kelly shook her head.
    “I confess. My mother’s cook packed it for me.”
    “Your mother’s cook. I’m going to try and not think about that right now, okay?”
    “Don’t hold it against me.”
    “We’ll get to that part later.”
    They spent the morning sitting side by side, talking and feeding each other the delights of the picnic basket. The sun warmed her back, and she fell into timelessness with him. It was the magical place couples go when they are falling in love with each other. A place she’d never been with Raymond.
    Kelly was cautious as to how much she revealed about herself: her unhappy childhood, running away at sixteen, even working in L.A., she skimmed over most of it. She listened very carefully to Sam’s family stories. No alcoholic parent, no abuse, no divorce, just Sam and his two younger sisters and two parents who actually cared. A tear slid down Kelly’s cheek. Sam caught it with his fingertip.
    “Where does this come from?”
    “You, describing the family I will never have.” Two more tears rolled down. She put her head against his shoulder and breathed deeply to calm herself. The pain twisted way down deep within her.
    “You could start your own, you know, be the first part of a new family; give your kids what you never had.”
    “That sounds grand, but I would have to learn how. My only pictures of