“I checked with Brent, who said it’s a legit pool and safe to swim in,” said Wes.
Nadine slipped off her shoes as if in a trance. “The water looks perfect.”
Her toes shattered the moon trembling on the surface, and Wes joined her, instantly feeling his whole body relax. She was right. He lay back on the inlaid stone surrounding the pool and listened to the water tumble down the surprisingly robust falls at the edge. The warm, dark stillness made him feel as if it was only the two of them left in the world. Not even the ever-present Toronto traffic or sirens broke the peace.
They sat for a few minutes before Wes said, “This is almost like a real vacation.”
Nadine laughed without humor. “I needed one. I hate the night shift. Almost as much as Raj hated being obituary editor.”
“Your replacement?” He closed his eyes and folded his arms behind his head like a pillow.
Her voice came to him. “It wasn’t his thing.”
“Did you like it?” He twisted his head to look at her. The moonlight touched her profile, the tip of her nose and chin, and left the rest in shadow. “Obits?”
“Not at first,” she said. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Hey, we don’t have to be friends to listen.”
She sniffed. “I kind of think you do.”
“Well, maybe you’re about four percent better than I thought.”
“High praise.”
“Come on, Nadine. Let it out.”
“Ugh, only because my therapist is on vacation.” She pulled her hair back and let it drop. “You don’t do obits over at theSpear, right?”
“Nope.”
“They call it the dead beat and say it’s where reporters go to die. Tom was there for twenty years. I didn’t know how he managed it, calling people day in and day out to ask about the lives of those who had passed.”
“Didn’t or don’t?”
She leaned forward to dip her hands in the water. “Past tense. You remember the first time you had to call the family for a crime story?”
He did. “It was hard, going to people reeling from grief and trying to let them talk but at the same time knowing you were on a deadline.”
“Yeah.” Her shoulders hunched up. “I was only in the obits job for a month, and that wasn’t enough time to understand it was different. The people I talked to were sad, but they were happy to talk about the person I was writing about. It was kind of uplifting? Less depressing at least, but I didn’t see it at the time because I had a preconceived notion it would be sad.” She splashed her feet around. “Enough about me. I’m on vacation. What about you? What’s theSpearlike?”
“I’m on vacation too,” he reminded her.
Her laugh rang out, full and happy. Wes liked it. It wasn’t like bells chiming or anything like that, but the rich sound of a woman enjoying herself. His home hadn’t had much laughter, and he found he craved it like a drug.
“True, but tell me anyway,” she said. “We’re doing sharesies.”
“This isn’t the last slice of cake. There’s no sharesies here.”
“Don’t care. You owe me.”
He looked at the shadows on her back as she bent forward and how the fabric of the dress showed she wasn’t wearing anything under it. Better to talk than think about that. He capitulated. “It is what it is.”
“Yowza. That’s no vote of confidence.” She shifted to face him, causing her dress to dip down low in the front. Wes had to close his eyes. “I have an idea,” she announced. “What if we don’t use points for our game?”
He cracked an eye open. “What do you have in mind?”
“If I find something, you have to answer one of my questions. On the off chance you do, you can ask me one.”
