were drying fast。 She felt more calm now； purged。
〃You sit down；〃 he repeated； 〃while I cook。 Then we'll decide what's to
be done about this 。。。 mess。〃
Anne helped herself to a fresh cup of coffee； adding hot water from the
tap； then returned to her chair。 He worked in silence； cracking eggs
into the heavy iron skillet； toasting a fresh batch of bread； pouring
two glasses of orange juice； toting it all to the table。
She ate everything on her plate； matching him egg for egg； toast for
toast； juice for juice。 Then he poured her a second cup of coffee；
filled the creamer with water and put that too before her。
Back in his chair； he said； 〃I spent a lot of time last night thinking
about this。 I planned to do some fishing； some hiking； some reading； and
a lot of sleeping。 What had you wanted to do？〃
She tipped up her chin。 〃Read。 Work。 Take walks； explore the
neighborhood； enjoy the solitude。〃
He looked out the window。 Bright sun lit the yard。 〃Look； this may sound
crazy； but I think we can both stay here。 We both seem to want quiet and
solitude。 We can each just go our own way。〃 He looked at her。 〃I know
this area； and； trust me； there won't be another place to stay on such
short notice。〃
She tucked a handful of hair behind her ear。 This wasn't quite the
vacation she had imagined； but he had a point。 He didn't seem willing to
leave。 Barring her own return to New York； there wasn't any alternative。
Her thumb moved on the ceramic mug。 〃This isn't what I wanted。〃
〃Me； neither。 But it's the only fair thing。 If I have to put up with
your hot showers； you can put up with my black coffee。〃
〃What about the beds？ Every move you make rattles on the ceiling。 I
wanted to sleep。〃
〃Yeah； I wanted that； too； but the bed up there is too damned small and
unfortable。 Why don't you try sleeping there？〃
〃Because you're there。〃
〃Then why don't I sleep downstairs？〃
〃Because I'm there。〃
〃Damn it；〃 he sighed； 〃I don't want to share your bed。 Why don't we just
switch？〃
She wasn't a fool。 〃After you've told me how small and unfortable the
attic one is？ No way！〃
〃Then don't plain about the noise。〃 In one swift move he was up；
stacking the dishes； dumping them in the sink。 When he turned back to
her； a silver wave had fallen across his brow。 〃You clean up。 I cooked。〃
He left the room so quickly that Anne's protest met thin air。
〃But…it was…my food…〃 Slowly she faced the dishes。 If this was a preview
of the week； things looked grim。
But Anne was tired of grim； so she took a positive approach。 Starting
with a long walk through the woods； she followed the line of a low stone
wall across the hilltop and down a gently graded slope until the road
intersected her path。 The view was spectacular from several points where
the forest door opened to the village below； its tall white church
steeple catching the afternoon sun。
As she followed the dirt road back to the house； the climb steepened。
She stopped to rest a time or two。 All was peaceful。 The murmur of the
breeze was a wele switch from the grating sounds of the city； the
lush ferns on the forest floor were a far cry from stone sidewalks； the
chipmunk skuttling through the brush was far better than a guard dog on
a leash by the curb。
Accustomed to the gray of the pigeon； she smiled at the chickadee's
black cap and white bib and the red breast of the robin。 She watched the
play of the sun through the boughs of thick； healthy trees。 The
crispness of the air； sharp without chill； invigorated her。
When she finally returned to the house； Mitch was nowhere about。 No car；
no man； no note。 Exhausted from fresh air and lack of sleep； she
stretched out on her quilt and fell into a deep and restful sleep。
The tension of the past weeks took its due。 When she awakened； it was
dusk。 After freshening up in the bathroom； she fixed a supper of soup
and crackers； then settled before the fire to finish the mystery she'd
started。 But the story's momentum had been broken。 She never quite got
back into the terror of it。
When she finished the last page； she sat back to watch the flames。 Their
play entranced her； calmed her； lulled her into a peaceful daze； and for
the very first time； and at long last； she felt removed from Jeff's
death。
It had been a nightmare…first news of the plane crash； then the limbo
when rescue teams set to work； hope when survivors appeared； total and
utter despair when the worst became reality。 But her heart felt lighter
now than it had at any time since then。 She didn't know if it was the
change of scenery； or the start of true healing。 But it felt good。
Of course； Mitch was still gone。 Though it was after nine； he hadn't
returned。 Just as well。 They were like fire and water。
She had to give him points； though。 He hadn't gone on and on about what
a shame it was； how young a widow she made； how tragic that Jeff had
been taken from life in his prime。 She'd had enough pity to last a
lifetime。
So he can't be all bad； she mused； even if he does make bitter coffee。
The evening passed quietly。 Anne left her chair only to feed the fire。
After a time； her lids grew heavy。 She fell into deep sleep from which
only the sensation of movement much later disturbed her。 She opened
groggy eyes to find herself in Mitch's arms。
〃What are you doing？〃 she cried and began to squirm。
He held her tighter。 〃Putting you to bed。〃 They were already at the door
of her room。
〃Put me down。 I don't need your help。〃
He dropped her on the bed。 〃Don't worry。 I'm not doing you any favors。
I'm thinking of me。 You were sleeping in my chair。〃
Before she could begin to call him out； he pivoted and left； slamming
the door behind him。
Sunday brought more of the same。 On the plus side； the weather was
grand； crisp and clear once the early…morning fog lifted。 Having slept
her fill； Anne was up early； putting on her own pot of coffee to assure
herself a cup to her liking； before showering and dressing。 The door to
the attic remained closed。 If Mitch was still asleep； he slept soundly。
Everything overhead was silent。
After breakfast； she rewalked yesterday's route； this time extending it
to the brook that babbled down the far hillside。 In keeping with the nip
in the air； the first of the birch leaves were starting to yellow。 The
sun picked them out from the rest and added a glow。
Removing her sneakers； she rolled up her jeans and； where the water was
shallow； waded across flat granite boulders。 It was the kind of thing
she and Jeff would have done。 Now she was alone； yet strangely peaceful。
Enjoying herself； she leaped lightly from stone to stone。
Returning invigorated to the house； she tackled the first of the papers
she had to translate； making good headway with the English…to…Spanish
piece until her stomach grumbled。 By then there were stirrings from the
upper quarter。 She worked until he was in the bathroom and dallied in
the kitchen until he returned to his room。 When he came downstairs； she
was back at work； sitting at the small desk that stood beneath a side
window of the living room。
Then the trouble began。 For nearly ten minutes he looked over her
shoulder while she worked as best she could。 Then he made a racket with
pots and pans in the kitchen。 When that ended； there was whistling； loud
and persistent； the same tune； over and over and over again。
Worst were interruptions of the 〃Hey； where is 。。 。〃 variety。 First it
was； 〃Hey； where's the salt？〃 Then； 〃Hey； where's the ketchup？〃 Then；
〃Hey； where's the large spatula？〃
By this time she knew he was baiting her； so she didn't scream。 Calmly；
she put down her pen； set her glasses aside； and made for the kitchen to
register a civil plaint。
〃Are there any more？ migod； what are you doing？〃 She ran across the room；
only to drop her outstretched arms in disgust and raise her eyes
heavenward in search of patience。
〃What's the trouble？〃 He was all innocence。
She peered once more into the half…empty jar in his hand。 〃Those are my
macadamia nuts。 I've been saving that itty…bitty jar for this vacation！
〃
〃So I'll buy you another jar。 Is money that tight？〃
Anne scowled。 She reached for the jar and clamped on its lid before he
could take more。 〃It's not the money。 It's the principle。 I love
macadamia nuts。〃
〃I'll get you more；〃 he repeated calmly。
She returned the jar to the cabi。 〃Can I trust you to leave it alone；
or do I have to put it in my room？〃
He grinned and folded his arms on his chest。 〃I haven't had macadamias
in ages。 I'd forgotten how good they are。 But you can trust me。 At
least； when it es to the nuts。〃
For a split second； she thought she heard something sexual in his drawl。
Then； dismissing it as a figment of her imagination； she turned and
stalked off。
By Monday； a pattern emerged。 Anne rose early each morning and hiked the
countryside。 Mitch slept late enough to ensure a replenished supply of
hot water for a long shower。 Meals were widely scattered and eaten alone
from supplies that remained separate and distinct。
By Tuesday Anne felt well rested and relaxed。 If Mitch continued to toss
in his sleep； she had either gotten used to the noise or she slept
soundly enough herself to blot it out。
He woke up earlier than usual that day； packed a lunch and vanished；
leaving Anne with the solitude she wanted。 Strange； though； between
work； books； and other incidental activities； she kept thinking about
him。
She was living with the guy。 Well； not in that sense。 Still； her friends
would be stunned if they knew； her family appalled。 But she was
fortable here； physically and emotionally。 This world was divorced
from that of New York。 Same with Mitch。 So； she didn't know his last
name。 The anonymity here felt right。 With Wednesday morning came the
awareness that her vacation was ing to an end。 By Friday afternoon
she would be heading back to the city。 Thinking about it over breakfast
coffee； she felt a pang of disappointment。 All things considered； the
vacation had been a good one。 She would miss this country when she had
to leave it behind。
Determined to make the most of the remaining days； she spent more time
in the woods than ever； reveling in the beauty of the flora； the freedom
of the fauna； and the luxury of time itself It was past noon when she
returned to the cottage。 Leaning against the trunk of an old apple tree
in the backyard； bathed in its sweet scent； she tipped her head back and
squinted at the sun through the fruit。
Inspiration struck then。 Pulling her jacket off； she spread it on the
soft grass。 Then she began to pick apples； selecting only the fullest
and deepest red of the lot to add to the growing pile。 When the last of
the best lay on her jacket； she calculated her own agility； studying the
upper branches； taking stock of her options。 Casting prudence aside； she
braced a rubber soled foot against the trunk and carefully hoisted
herself onto the first branch； bringing a whole new batch of fruit
within reach。 Balanced gingerly； she plucked one； then another； filling
her free arm slowly。
Then she looked down and saw Mitch right at the foot of her tree。
Startled； she lost her balance。 Apples rained to the ground in a cr