Trouble In Tourmaline

“Oh. Um, so do you have a dog?” she asked, another lame attempt at small talk with the handyman.

Actually he’d just acquired a cat, a stray that had meowed so persistently at his apartment door one night a week ago that he’d let the animal in. When Gert saw her she told him the cat was pregnant. Soon he’d have kittens. A case of no good deed going unpunished.

Cats and kittens didn’t suit the role he’d decided to play, so, remembering something Cal had said, David decided to use it. “Had two dogs,” he told her. “Rottweilers. Some rotten dipstick stole ’em right out of my pickup.”

“What a shame.”

“Yeah, you’d think they’d’ve put up a fight. Who ever heard of wimpy rottweilers? Just as well they’re gone.”

He could tell by her quickly masked expression that he was rapidly turning her off. Which was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

The bill taken care of, they left the café and walked back toward Aunt Gert’s.

“You said Dr. Severin won’t be home for two days?” Amy asked.

“That’s what she told me.”

“I suppose I should have called ahead.”

He stated the obvious, which she ought to know if she was a patient. “The doc works by the appointment system.”

“Well, yes, but I was hoping…” She let the words trail off.

Maybe she was a new patient and had hoped Gert could work her in. What could Amy’s problem be? She didn’t seem depressed, and he ought to know depression when he saw it—he was an expert.

“I guess I’ll just stay over,” she said. “Is there a quiet place in town?”

An arousing mental picture of Amy naked in his bed tonight flashed into his head, but he resisted the temptation to tell her his apartment was about as quiet as it got. To banish the vision, he said tersely, “The local hotel’s not bad.”

“What’s ‘not bad’ mean?”

She never let anything alone, did she? “It’s old but clean. Serves a decent meal, and it’s quiet.”

“Where is it?”

“I’ll show you.”

She stopped and looked up at him. “Maybe you could just tell me.”

Obviously he’d overdone the Cal routine. Now he was stuck with it. Deliberately ignoring her words, he said, “The hotel is up this way,” then took her elbow to turn her to the left, which was a mistake. He hadn’t actually touched her before, and, if he’d sensed the electricity between them in the café, he damn well felt it now.

For a moment neither of them moved, then she jerked free, frowning at him.

He gave her a one-sided smile. “Coming?”

He thought she might not, but then she fell into step beside him. “Shouldn’t you get back to your job?”

“Hey, it’s my lunch break.”

The Cottonwood Hotel was in the next block and nothing more was said until they reached the front entrance. She stopped and peered inside. “It’s got slot machines,” she said accusingly. “That’s not quiet.”

“Most commercial places in Nevada have slots. Take another look. You see anyone playing those machines?”

“Not at the moment.”

“No smoking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gamblers are mostly smokers. Old Hathaway, who owns the place, won’t let anyone smoke inside his hotel. The hard-case gamblers go where they can.”

Amy raised her eyebrows, hesitated, then said, “I suppose I can give it a try. Goodbye and thanks.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she pushed open the door to the lobby and slipped through it into the hotel.

That was that, David told himself as he sauntered back toward Aunt Gert’s. A brief encounter and a goodbye. The end. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Before he’d gotten half a block away, he saw Hal Hathaway coming toward him. “Just sent you a customer,” he told Hal.

Hal stopped beside him. “I certainly can use all you send me. I hope this one is pretty.”

David nodded. No argument there.

“Is your aunt back yet?” Hal asked.

“Not until the day after tomorrow.”

“The reason is, I’ve been wanting to ask her if she wants that vacant lot on the street directly in back of you. I’ve decided to sell and she gets first refusal.”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

Hal went on to list all the reasons why Gert should buy the lot, then remembered something in the hotel basement he wanted to show David.

When David finally was able to get away, he shook his head. He liked the old man, but he was sure long-winded. By the time he got back to his aunt’s, the blue SUV in back of the nursery truck was gone. The time he’d spent with Hal had given Amy long enough to walk to Gert’s and drive the SUV back to the hotel parking lot. He’d missed a last goodbye.

Or would it have been one? If Amy was a patient of Gert’s he might run into her sometime. Best to stay away from his aunt’s patients, though. He didn’t need anyone else’s problems while he was still struggling with his own.

He’d have to consider the fact he usually ate breakfast at the Cottonwood. Giving it a miss for the next two mornings would be a good idea. When he went to bed that night, he kept the thought in mind and wound up dreaming he was in a Manhattan theater watching a follies-type stage show, especially the chorus girl on the left end of the row. He was seated close to her, so close he could see her eyes were green, though her eyes weren’t what he was paying the most attention to….

While shaving early the next morning, he told himself he damn well wasn’t going to change his routine on the off chance he might run into Amy. She’d probably sleep late and no place in town served a better breakfast.

Amy woke at her usual hour and groaned. Here she was more or less on vacation for today and could have slept in. As always, once awake, hunger stalked her. She could never understand those who made do with just orange juice or coffee for breakfast, she needed a meal. David had been right when he said the hotel served decent food—dinner had been delicious. She looked forward to breakfast.

David. Why was he still on her mind? At least she hadn’t dreamed about him. Not that she could recall, anyway. Being a psychologist, she did try to track her dreams, but, oddly enough, couldn’t remember any this morning. Perhaps she’d suppressed them and she actually had dreamed of David. There’s an unsettling thought.

Actually she probably would see him again, however briefly, because the yard work Dr. Severin was having done had looked quite extensive, but it’d be no more than a “Hi” sort of encounter. The last thing she needed at the moment was a man in her life. Never mind what Dr. Smits had told her about her denial state where men were concerned. He was another example of a controlling man himself. Sometimes she wondered how his wife could stand him.

On the off chance that Dr. Severin might come home earlier than expected, Amy put on a dark green skirt with a lighter green shirt, ran a brush through her short curly hair and left her room.

As she entered the dining room, she noticed the waitress seating a man—David. Annoyed because her heart gave a lurch, she wished she could walk past him without a word, but that would be confirming Smits’ diagnosis of denial. Okay, she’d acknowledge David’s presence by a courteous hello. Why was she making such a big deal of it, anyway?