Page 53 of The Witching Hours

“Ouch. Those are the worst.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“You’re probably going to think I’m making this up, but I’ve come here to lick the breakup wounds, myself. My own pride has taken a hit.”

Before responding, he stared for a few seconds, like he was trying to discern the trustworthiness of my claim. “Well, sometimes it’s hard to recognize insanity until it’s too late.”

“How did you jump to the conclusion that he’s insane?”

His smile made me lean forward involuntarily. “Because a guy would have to be crazy to let you go.” I walked into that one. As cheesy as it was, I felt my cheeks heat. “Just so happens I’m a person who believes in coincidence.”

I wanted to ask a follow up question to learn if he also believed in fate, but thought it was too soon for the implications that would raise.

“How about the woman that could’ve been here enjoying this with you? Is she crazy?”

“Certifiable.” I laughed. “What’re you having?”

“Lentil soup and Greek salad.”

“Ah. Girly food.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Lentil soup and Greek salad is not girly food. It’s healthy, nutritious, and newly unattached persons like myself need to be especially careful. Drowning sorrows in chocolate is always a temptation.”

With a charming chuckle he said, “You could put on some chocolate pounds and still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Now he’d gone too far. How did I know? Because nobody had ever called me the most beautiful woman in any room. Not even when I was the only woman there. I was tall. Stylish. Maybe even elegant. My sandy blond hair was natural except for highlights around my face. I have skin that looks stubbornly good even when neglected and abused, but beautiful might be a stretch.

My first impulse was to argue about the compliment, but decided it would be rude to reject a gift. I ducked my chin and played with the corner of a heavy woven napkin. “Thank you. But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t see any other women in the room.”

He laughed. “How long will you be here?”

“Another six days. Sounds like a long time, but I’ll blink twice, turn around, and be on the way home.”

“I know what you mean. I took a house for a month and still have three weeks. So, what have you done? I mean sightseeing-wise.”

“So far I’ve just strolled around.” I reached into my women straw tote and retrieved a tourist brochure. Proudly displaying it with hand gestures like a game show assistant I said, “But I have a couple of ideas in mind.” I opened the brochure. “First priority.” I tapped the photo on the glossy page. “Looks like the catamaran cruise to the caldera is a must.”

“Hold it right there. I got the use of a sailboat with the house. Let me take you.”

Whoa. We’d just graduated from suspicion of flirting to an unmistakable request for a date. My lucky lunch encounter was moving pretty fast, but I couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. In fact, I could start numbering the regrets I’d have if I didn’t say yes.

“You know how to sail?” I asked.

“Everybody with a last name like mine knows how to sail.”

I laughed. “That is sooooooooo not true.”

“Okay. That might be a stretch. But I have a friend who lives in Redwood City about fifteen minutes away. He thinks sailing is life. So, he got an apartment next to this beautiful marina where his boat is just yards away from his front door.” He took a drink before saying, “I learned to sail on San Franciso Bay.”

“Your life doesn’t sound half bad.”

“Like the song says. I can’t complain, but sometimes I still do.”

The guy was more than a pretty face and body. He was witty, interesting, easy to be with and not scared of professional women.

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