The air
was fresh and salty, softened by the waxy smell of beach roses.
Children played. Dogs chased Frisbees. Waves curled and crashed along
the sand. In September, in Maine, time has a way of crystallizing and
standing still. Oliver soaked up the sunny shortening days. He was
rested and tan, increasingly coiled for some kind of action.
He received a postcard from Jacky saying that she was living in a motel
but was about to move into a house. Her job was a lot of work but going
well. She missed him. He sent a housewarming card to the new address
and said that he missed her, too. No harm in that. Besides, it was true.
One afternoon in October, when the leaves were beginning to change
color, he came home and heard Jacky's voice on the answering machine.
"Oliver, are you there? No? I'm in town. I'm staying at the Regency.
I'm wondering if you would join me for dinner. I've got a meeting in
ten minutes. Just come to the restaurant in the hotel, if you can, at
six." There was a short pause. "I'll understand if you can't make it. I
know it's short notice. Bye." Her voice softened on the "bye," and she
hung up.
Oliver paced a couple of tight circles and decided to go.
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