“I wasn’t exactly a Hooray Henry, but I partied my share. I was very busy—I played in a jazz trio, and we worked two or three nights a week, then I had to get up early and be greeted by the shining faces of Eton boys, not all of them eager to learn.”

“Were you eager to learn?”

“Not terribly, except music and art history. I got a first, but just barely.”

“A first-class degree?”

“Right.”

“Something like the dean’s list?”

“I guess.” They finished dining, and Laurence asked for the bill.

Theresa looked at her watch.

“Early day tomorrow?” he asked.

“No, it’s my day off.”

“Then you must let me show you my new apartment.”

“I believe I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, but not with the new furniture and pictures. It’s much better now.”

“All right, but no ravishing.”

“We can always ravish each other at a later date.”

“Maybe,” she said.

“I’ll take that as an expression of affirmation.”

—

BACK AT THE FAIRLEIGH, he took her around and showed her the fruit of his shopping.

“It looks very different now,” she said.

“Like somebody lives here?”

“Like that.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her.

She kissed him back, then said, “Remember, no ravishing.”

“But I’m off to war,” he said.

“War?”

“War with a flight simulator. I have to go to Kansas for a couple of weeks of flight training.”

“You’re learning to fly?”

“I’m already licensed, but I have to get a type rating for my new airplane.”

“And you consider that war?”

“Those simulators are dangerous. You can crash and burn.”

She laughed. “And it takes two whole weeks?”

“Sixteen days, to be more precise, and then I have to get some hours with a mentor in the new airplane before I can fly it alone.”

“It’s beginning to sound like a long time before I’ll see you.”

“Tell you what, take some off time, and I’ll come back and get you, and we’ll fly around the country.”

“Well, I do have some vacation time built up.”

“Then it’s a date, in sixteen days, starting day after tomorrow.”

“You’re on,” she said.

“You won’t need a nightgown, you’ll be too busy to use it.”

“Promises, promises,” she said.

“No, vows.” He took a key from his pocket, one with a Fairleigh fob and the number 15 embossed on it. “In case you need shelter from the storm,” he said.

“I won’t, but thank you.” She tucked the key into her handbag.

11

STONE BARRINGTON picked up the phone and called Laurence Hayward. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Laurence said. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven. Did you sleep in?”

“I guess I did.”