Salter, Anna C Read Online Free PDF

dozen complaints about me over the years. Nobody ever complained that what I had said was actually wrong. They just seemed to think I didn't need to say it exactly that way at exactly that time, if at all. Details.
    I had a half hour before my next client, and I started to pick up the phone to track down Willy. The absence of a plan was definitely a problem, but why worry about it now. First I had to find him. But the phone rang before I could pick it up.
    "This is Dr. Stone," I said.
    "Michael," the voice on the other end said simply.
    My heart rate went up a notch, which annoyed me exceedingly. I could never seem to control the effect Adam had on me. "Good afternoon, Chief Bowman. Caught any crooks today?"
    "Half a dozen before sunrise," Adam replied. He paused. "I'd like to come over this evening," he said. Adam could be more direct than I was.
    "Why?" I said, suddenly suspicious. "Did Carlotta call you?"
    "What's with the third degree?" Adam asked. "Why would Carlotta call me?"
    I had blown it. Now he'd call her if she didn't call him.
    "Nothing," I said. "Really, it's nothing. She's just on the rampage about me, as usual. I thought you were coming over to lecture me —which I would not have liked," I added sternly just in case he did call her.
    "No," he said slowly, "that wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
    Adam could say fewer words and get a bigger reaction from me than anyone I had ever known. I found my mouth was dry.
    "Sounds fine," I said trying and miserably failing at keeping my voice even. "Dinner?"
    "Sure," Adam said, and we got off on the when and where stuff, which allowed me to get my heart rate a tad short of tachycardia.
    There was nothing I could do about the estrogen vote. I liked living alone. I didn't want a steady boyfriend. But every time Adam came around, the estrogen just started swimming in my ears.

4

    Once Adam and I had gone to Hawaii. Well, actually I had gone, and he met me there. I wasn't even sure he was coming, and I had been walking on the beach when I realized the barefoot guy in shorts walking toward me was Adam.
    The whole time we spent there had been a world apart. Like ghosts of the Aaragone, we never spoke of home. We never talked about his job or mine or sex offenders or my prickliness about independence or anything to do with the real world. I had worn long cotton dresses on the beach at night with nothing underneath, and the wind had whipped my dress around and lifted my skirts. I had felt like Marilyn Monroe standing on that grating, and I have never felt like Marilyn Monroe before or since. I could still remember the feeling of the wind on my bare thighs and bottom. I could remember the feel of other things too. Sitting in my office a million miles from Hawaii, it still made me smile.
    On the way back to the mainland we had both been glum. The real world was rushing toward us with every mile, and we both knew it wouldn't be the same. It hadn't been.
    I picked up Chinese on the way home. The best thing about being in my forties was making my peace with who I was and who I wasn't, and I wasn't Julia Child.
    I was, however, happy to see Adam when he walked in. It was still light out, and mercifully, mud season seemed to be warming up so we agreed to dinner on the deck. I was busy unpacking cartons and didn't notice how still Adam was.
    "I've been thinking," he said, finally. 'How would you feel about moving in with me for a while?"
    "Why?" I asked. "What's wrong with the way things are now?" I am never very smart when estrogen is roaring in my ears. I should have seen what was coming, but I didn't.

    "The commute's too long from my house to yours," he said lightly.
    "Fifteen minutes? Boy, you've been living in the country too long. Fifteen minutes would buy you a block in Boston at rush hour."
    Adam didn't say anything, so I went on, "Look, why spoil a good thing? I am not the easiest person to live with." Actually I am impossible to live with.
    Adam persisted. "Then why not