“Goldie! Are you alright?”
She looked up to see Peter Banyan. His Ford station wagon with an open driver’s door was behind him at the entrance of the bridge.
“Ay, Peter,” she smiled weakly.
“What happened?” he asked. He put a hand on each of her arms and helped her to her feet. “Are you ill?”
“No. J-just tripped over my own two big, dumb feet,” she fibbed. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah… what’re you doin’ here?”
“I went by the hotel to ask about your day and see if you wanted some dessert and coffee. Maddie said she’d seen you leave. So, I figured maybe you were out walking.”
“And you came here, huh?”
“Well, the bridgeisa likely destination.”
“Yeah. Sure,” she said, rubbing her forehead.
“Yousureyou’re okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, glancing at the empty viewing window where Claude Bolton had jumped. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
“C’mon,” he urged. “Let’s get you to my car. Does dessert sound good?”
“I think I’m gonna take a rain check,” she said, going with him toward his station wagon. “I’m okay, but I got up real early and am dead tired.”
“Fair enough. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Ever since we met, you may’ve noticed that I’ve been spending some time with you.”
“Yeah. What about that?” she asked, a little teasingly.
“For the record, my father highly disapproves of me chasing after you,” he said with a certain twinkle in his eye. “He’s afraid you’ll perceive my attention as just a ploy so you’ll write a nice article about the town.”
“Oh. Like him flyin’ me out here and puttin’ me upwasn’tthat?” she asked.
“He says that’s different. That’s a business arrangement, but me spending time with you—eating with you, walking with you—that’s personal.”
“Well, it does beg the question: Why are ya doin’ it?”
Now at his car, he opened and held the door for her while she climbed inside. After he closed it, he rounded the vehicle and slid in behind the wheel.
“I don’t know,” he said, shutting his door. “I mean, I like you. And I know we come from different places and live separate lives. I know your stay here is only temporary. But—I don’t know—there’s something different about you. It—it’s almost otherworldly.”
“Otherworldly?” she asked, taking off her stocking cap and shaking out her hair a bit.
“Maybe that’s the wrong word for it,” he conceded, his hazel eyes searching. “Unexpected. Special.” He looked at her tousled but attractive brown hair. “I can honestly say, I’ve never met another woman like you.”
“Timeless,” she offered, jokingly.
“Yes. That’s a good description for it. You’re timeless.”
He reached over, cupped her face with his left hand, then leaned over and kissed her. She suspected this might happen sooner or later, and if it did, it would complicate things. But she still let it happen. And she still liked it.
