"A mineral water?"
she said.
"Thank you, my dear. Anything for you, Mr. Jones?"
"No thanks."
The man closed his eyes and turned his smiling face into the sun.
As Peter studied him, he felt a dim glow of recognition. Had he
met him before, perhaps seen a photo of him somewhere? There was
something about the cynicism in the man's eye. No doubt he was a
former businessman well into his retirement, for with his eyes
closed, he looked maybe seventy-five.
"Here you are, Mr. Holmes," the waitress said.
With his eyes open, however, the man suddenly looked ten years
younger. Pouring the mineral water over the ice cubes in the
glass, he fixed his gaze on Peter. "It isn't easy walking away
from something you've given birth to, is it?" He squeezed some
juice from the lime slice floating in the glass.
"No. It sure isn't," Peter said. Except for Kate's weekend trips
away from Los Angeles, Peter had been completely alone for the
past three months in Maine. During this period he had spoken with
hardly anyone, except when necessary - ordering food in
restaurants, paying for goods at the general store, or collecting
his bundles of forwarded mail at the post office. He had
forgotten how good it could feel to talk to someone, even a
stranger. Especially a stranger. But Peter sensed that this
wasn't just any stranger.
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