think so. I always imagined he'd go off to the hills and raise honey bees, or something. Somehow a law degree didn't fit him."
She raised the glass to her lips.
"He's a proctologist."
Faith's wine went down the wrong way. Putting a hand on her chest, she began to cough. Sawyer slapped her back, stopping only when she'd caught her breath.
"Why do you say things like that?" she cried.
"Because it's true." When she gave a final cough, he said, "Take a drink. It'll help." She took a drink, then a deep breath, and when she'd finished doing that, he drew her to the sofa.
"Sit."
"I can't sit," she said.
"I want to go home and change, then get something to eat." But she sat. After a minute, she began to laugh.
"A
proctologist? That's too much. "
Sawyer retrieved the wine bottle from the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Have I ever lied to you?"
"No, Sawyer."
"I'm an honorable man." He refilled her wine glass, refilled his own and sank down into the chair across from her.
"The last of the good guys." Leaning forward, he chinked his glass to hers.
"Cheers."
"Cheers," she said, and took a drink. As the wine warmed her senses, she thought for a minute.
"You and Larry O'Neill. The saviors of our class. Where's Larry now?"
"Springfield, Illinois. He's doing tax work." "I can believe that. He has a big family to support. How many kids now?"
"Eight."
"No!"
But Sawyer nodded.
"So help me, eight kids."
"He had three when we graduated, and that was nine years ago. He's been busy."
Sawyer laughed.
"His wife is the busy one. Do you remember her?" "Charlene? Of course, I remember Charlene. She was always pregnant.
Still is, I guess. " She raised her glass.
"To Charlene."
"To Charlene," Sawyer said and took a drink.
"So how about you, Faith?
Do you want kids? "
"Sure I do. I want twelve."
"Twelve!"
"Three sets of twins and two sets of triplets."
"I can't picture it."
"Why not?" she asked, sounding hurt.
"Doctors can do anything nowadays. I put in my order, they get out their little test tubes and their little petri dishes, I get my kids."
"Ahhh," he said sagely.
"That's right, ahhh. So how about you?"
"Me? No way. I'm not getting pregnant with one, let alone twins and triplets. Don't want to ruin my figure."
She laughed, and a grin remained long after the sound had died. She sat back in the sofa, feeling more relaxed than she had in months and months.
"You're fun. Sawyer. How could I have forgotten that?"
"Out of sight, out of mind."
"But we always had such good times. Remember the lunches we had with Alvin Breen? Or the seminars we went to? Remember the time we served on a panel together in Pittsfield?"
"Do I ever," he said. There was a wry twist to his lips and a playful gleam in his eye.
"You were the only woman, and you took advantage of it to the hilt. You wore a bright red dress, bright red shoes, bright red lipstick, bright red nail polish, and you sat there looking like a perfect piece of fluff. Boy, did you fool them. Their mouths dropped open when you began to speak."
Faith sipped her wine, then said with an innocent tip of her head, "It wasn't my fault they thought I was dumb."
"You let them believe it, you shameless hussy."
"They chose to believe it. Most men do."
"Doesn't it make you mad?"
"Mad? When I get such satisfaction seeing them with egg on their faces?"
Sawyer threw back his head and laughed.
"I love it," he said, then sat forward.
"You're remarkable." He chinked his wineglass to hers.
"To you."
"To me," she said with a grin and, with a nourish, finished her wine.
She was feeling delightfully warm. Any rough edges that were left over from the week had melted away.
Sawyer rose, took the wine glass from her and set it on the table, then grabbed her hand and drew her up.
"Let's go. I'm hungry."
"I think I'm a little high."
"Me, too. We need food."
Minutes later, they were heading down Atlantic Avenue in the general direction of Faith's
She raised the glass to her lips.
"He's a proctologist."
Faith's wine went down the wrong way. Putting a hand on her chest, she began to cough. Sawyer slapped her back, stopping only when she'd caught her breath.
"Why do you say things like that?" she cried.
"Because it's true." When she gave a final cough, he said, "Take a drink. It'll help." She took a drink, then a deep breath, and when she'd finished doing that, he drew her to the sofa.
"Sit."
"I can't sit," she said.
"I want to go home and change, then get something to eat." But she sat. After a minute, she began to laugh.
"A
proctologist? That's too much. "
Sawyer retrieved the wine bottle from the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Have I ever lied to you?"
"No, Sawyer."
"I'm an honorable man." He refilled her wine glass, refilled his own and sank down into the chair across from her.
"The last of the good guys." Leaning forward, he chinked his glass to hers.
"Cheers."
"Cheers," she said, and took a drink. As the wine warmed her senses, she thought for a minute.
"You and Larry O'Neill. The saviors of our class. Where's Larry now?"
"Springfield, Illinois. He's doing tax work." "I can believe that. He has a big family to support. How many kids now?"
"Eight."
"No!"
But Sawyer nodded.
"So help me, eight kids."
"He had three when we graduated, and that was nine years ago. He's been busy."
Sawyer laughed.
"His wife is the busy one. Do you remember her?" "Charlene? Of course, I remember Charlene. She was always pregnant.
Still is, I guess. " She raised her glass.
"To Charlene."
"To Charlene," Sawyer said and took a drink.
"So how about you, Faith?
Do you want kids? "
"Sure I do. I want twelve."
"Twelve!"
"Three sets of twins and two sets of triplets."
"I can't picture it."
"Why not?" she asked, sounding hurt.
"Doctors can do anything nowadays. I put in my order, they get out their little test tubes and their little petri dishes, I get my kids."
"Ahhh," he said sagely.
"That's right, ahhh. So how about you?"
"Me? No way. I'm not getting pregnant with one, let alone twins and triplets. Don't want to ruin my figure."
She laughed, and a grin remained long after the sound had died. She sat back in the sofa, feeling more relaxed than she had in months and months.
"You're fun. Sawyer. How could I have forgotten that?"
"Out of sight, out of mind."
"But we always had such good times. Remember the lunches we had with Alvin Breen? Or the seminars we went to? Remember the time we served on a panel together in Pittsfield?"
"Do I ever," he said. There was a wry twist to his lips and a playful gleam in his eye.
"You were the only woman, and you took advantage of it to the hilt. You wore a bright red dress, bright red shoes, bright red lipstick, bright red nail polish, and you sat there looking like a perfect piece of fluff. Boy, did you fool them. Their mouths dropped open when you began to speak."
Faith sipped her wine, then said with an innocent tip of her head, "It wasn't my fault they thought I was dumb."
"You let them believe it, you shameless hussy."
"They chose to believe it. Most men do."
"Doesn't it make you mad?"
"Mad? When I get such satisfaction seeing them with egg on their faces?"
Sawyer threw back his head and laughed.
"I love it," he said, then sat forward.
"You're remarkable." He chinked his wineglass to hers.
"To you."
"To me," she said with a grin and, with a nourish, finished her wine.
She was feeling delightfully warm. Any rough edges that were left over from the week had melted away.
Sawyer rose, took the wine glass from her and set it on the table, then grabbed her hand and drew her up.
"Let's go. I'm hungry."
"I think I'm a little high."
"Me, too. We need food."
Minutes later, they were heading down Atlantic Avenue in the general direction of Faith's
Similar Books
The Humans
Matt Haig
The Legend
Kathryn Le Veque
The Summer Invitation
Charlotte Silver
Cold Case
Kate Wilhelm
Captcha Thief (Amy Lane Mysteries)
Rosie Claverton
Unseen
Nancy Bush
The Listening Walls
Margaret Millar
Ghost Aria
Jeffe Kennedy
Nights of Villjamur
Mark Charan Newton
Flesh for Fantasy
Kelex