Page 2 of The Woodcarver's Model
As Rob towelled dry, he looked at himself in the mirror.Not bad.Most guys his age had a bit of a gut. He didn’t. At one hundred and sixty pounds, he had a slim waist and a rock-hard stomach, although it wasn’t exactly a six-pack. Living on a diet of hotel and field food didn’t make that possible, but the physical demands of the job kept him in damned good shape…for a forty-five-year-old who was five-foot-eight inches tall. He still had a great head of hair, dark brown verging on black. His eyebrows were full and accented his grey-green eyes. A firm, square jaw and perfect white teeth—thank you, Mom and Dad, for the orthodontics—lent to a model’s good looks.
His shoulders, arms and thighs were thickly muscled as a result of a heavy gym regimen. A strong body had saved him on many occasions in the field. Rock and mountain climbing required strong limbs in order to survive. And, speaking of physique, he had to admit hislower appendagewas something else to admire.
He wandered down to the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. As a thank-you for letting her stay there, Karen always made sure the fridge and cupboards were well stocked with his favourite foods when he returned. Of course, he’d given Karen a credit card to cover those purchases. Musicians didn’t make enough money to buy the kind of food he liked.
He wandered back up to the rooftop deck and leaned against the railing, taking in the view. No matter how much he loved to travel, coming home was the reward for the inevitable pains.
His neighbour, an artist by the name of Gwen—just Gwen—was out in her front yard sunning topless. She liked to do that. It annoyed the tourists who forever streamed by on the pathway that cut in front of their properties“like a slash across the gut of a murder victim”—Gwen’s words, not Rob’s.
“Hey Gwen,” he called down, raising his bottle to her.
“Hey Rob. Just get back?”
“Yup.”
“Come on over in a couple of hours if you want. The Kirbys’ll be here for drinks.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” He wouldn’t. He hated the Kirbys. So did Gwen, but they brought pretentiously expensive wine wherever they went.
The phone rang. Rob knew he should get it. It would be Karen. She knew he would be back by now. He answered.
“Hello.”
“That’s all I get—hello?”
“Hello, most beautiful Karen, protector of hearth and home.” As he spoke, he bowed and his towel slipped to the balcony floor. He caught it before a large family group, who were passing by, caught sight of him.
“Closer,” she said, hinting at the desire for a better compliment.
“That’s all I got. Oh—are you missing a bra?”
“You found it? Where the hell did it get to?”
“I didn’t think bras had a habit of getting to anywhere by themselves.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Well, this one got under the piano.”
“That sneaky little bastard. Oh, I remember now. There was this huge fly, you see. It was so big, I mean biblical-plague big,and it was buzzing around driving me nuts so I thought, ‘What do you use to kill something biblically big?’A sling. You know, like Davey slew Goliath with.”
“I think you mean David and Goliath.Davey and Goliathwas a Christian-centred cartoon from the… Oh, never mind.” He stopped before giving the full history of the cartoon he’d grown up with. Karen hated when he interrupted her with one of his academic diatribes.
“Like I said—biblical. So, I took off my bra, loaded an apple into the cup, swung it around and let her go.”
“Did you get the fly?”
“No. It’s probably still there. But the apple went through the open window and I assumed my bra did as well.”
Rob had hoped it had been the result of some wild sexual fling. Karen didn’t socialise enough.
She continued, “I’m so glad you found it. It’s one of my favourites. You have no idea how hard it is to find the perfect bra.”
“You’re right there. I have no idea. Hey—thanks for the”—he looked at the beer label—“Wheel Rat. It’s not bad.”
“It’s what they were serving at the symphony season opener last night and I thought it tasted pretty fine.”
“Did you steal it?” he asked suspiciously.
