Part 11 (1/2)

”Cancer.” Beth seemed to have trouble making her voice work. She took another sip from her drink and stared at the gla.s.s. ”Ray had a mole on the back of his neck.”

Decker waited.

”Last summer, it changed shape and color, but he wouldn't go to the doctor. Then it started to bleed. Turned out to be the worst kind of skin cancer-melanoma.”

Decker kept waiting.

Beth's voice became strained. ”Even though Ray had the mole cut out, he didn't do it soon enough to stop the cancer from spreading Radiation and chemotherapy didn't work. He died in January.”

The mariachi band approached Decker's table, the music so loud that he could barely hear what Beth said. Urgent, he waved them away. When they saw the fierce expression in his eyes, they complied.

”So,” Beth said. ”I was lost. Still am. We had a house outside New York, in Westchester County. I couldn't stand living there any longer. Everything around me reminded me of Ray, of what I'd lost. People I thought were my friends felt awkward dealing with my grief and stayed away. I didn't think I could get more lonely.” She glanced down at her hands. ”A few days ago, I was at my psychiatrist's office when I came across a travel magazine in the waiting room. I think it was Conde Nast Traveler. It said that Santa Fe was one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world. I liked the photographs and the description of the city. On the spur of the moment...” Her voice trailed off.

A colorfully dressed waitress stopped at their table. ”Are you ready to order now?”

”No,” Beth said. ”I'm afraid I've lost my appet.i.te.”

”We need more time,” Decker said.

He waited until the waitress was out of earshot. ”I've made some spur-of-the moment decisions myself. As a matter of fact, coming to Santa Fe was one of them.”

”And did it work out?”

”Even better than I hoped.”

”G.o.d, I hope I'll be able to say the same for me.” Beth traced a finger along the base of her gla.s.s.

”What did your psychiatrist say about your sudden decision?”

”I never told him. I never kept the appointment. I just set down the travel magazine and went home to pack. I bought a one-way ticket to Santa Fe.”

Decker tried not to stare, struck by how parallel their experiences were.

”No regrets,” Beth said firmly. ”The future can't possibly be any worse than the last year.”

5.

Decker parked his Jeep Cherokee in a carport at the rear of his house. He got out, almost turned on a light so he could see to unlock his back door, but decided instead to lean against the metal railing and look up at the stars. The streets in this part of town didn't have lights. Most people in the area went to sleep early. With almost no light pollution, he was able to gaze up past the pinon trees at unbelievably brilliant constellations. A three-quarter moon had begun to rise. The air was sweet and cool. What a beautiful night, he thought.

In the foothills, coyotes howled, reminding him that he had earlier mentioned them to Beth, making him wish that she was next to him, listening to them. He could still feel her hand on his. During their dinner, they had managed to avoid further depressing topics. Beth had made a deliberate attempt to be festive as he walked her the short distance to the Inn of the Anasazi. At the entrance, they had shaken hands.

Now, as Decker continued to gaze up at the stars, he imagined what it would have been like to drive her from the restaurant, past the darkened art galleries on Canyon Road, past the garden walls of the homes along Camino del Monte Sol, finally arriving at Camino Lindo and the house next to his.

His chest felt hollow. You certainly are messed up, he told himself.

Well, I haven't fallen in love for a very long time. He searched his memory and was amazed to realize that the last time he had felt this way had been in his late teens, before he entered the military. As he'd often told himself, military special operations and his subsequent career as an intelligence operative hadn't encouraged serious romantic involvement. Since coming to Santa Fe, he had met several women whom he had dated-nothing serious, just casual enjoyable evenings. With one of the women, he had had s.e.xual relations. Nothing permanent had come out of it, however. As much as he liked the woman, he realized that he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with her. The feeling had evidently been mutual. The woman, a Realtor for another agency, was now seeing someone else.

But Decker's present emotions were so different from what he had felt toward that other woman that they unsettled him. He recalled having read that ancient philosophers considered love to be an illness, an unbalancing of mind and emotions. It sure is, he thought. But how on earth can it happen so fast? I always believed that love at first sight was a myth. He recalled having read about a subtle s.e.xual chemical signal that animals and humans gave off, called pheromones. You couldn't smell them. They were detected biologically rather than consciously. The right person could give off pheromones that drove a person wild. In this case, Decker thought, the right person is absolutely beautiful, and she definitely has my kind of pheromones.

So what are you going to do? he asked himself. Obviously, there are problems. She's recently widowed. If you start behaving romantically toward her, she'll find you threatening. She'll resent you for trying to make her disloyal to the memory of her dead husband. Then it won't matter if she lives next door-she'll treat you as if she's living in the next state. Take it one day at a time, he told himself. You can't go wrong if you act truly as her friend.

6.

”Steve, there's someone to see you,” the office receptionist said on the intercom.

”I'll be right out.”

”No need,” another voice said on the intercom, surprising him-a woman's voice, whose sensuous resonance Decker instantly identified. ”I know the way.”

Heart beating faster, Decker stood. A few seconds later, Beth entered the office. In contrast with the dark suit she had worn yesterday, she now wore linen slacks and a matching tan jacket that brought out the color of her auburn hair. She looked even more gorgeous.

”How are you?” Decker asked.

”Excited. It's moving day.”

Decker didn't know what she meant.

”Last night, I decided I couldn't wait to move in,” Beth said. ”The house is already furnished. It seems a shame to leave it empty. So I telephoned the owner and asked if I could rent the house until the paperwork was done and I could buy it.”

”And he agreed?”

”He couldn't have been nicer. He said I could get the key from you.”

”You most certainly can. In fact, I'll drive you there.”

On the busy street outside his office, Decker opened his Cherokee's pa.s.senger door for her.

”I tossed and turned all night, wondering if I was doing the right thing,” Beth said.

”Sounds like me when I first came to town.”

”And how did you get over it?”

”I asked myself what my alternative was.”

”And?”

”I didn't have one,” Decker said. ”At least not one that didn't mean the same as surrendering to what was wearing me down.”