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won t always work the other way. Relationships can rarely save
love, but love can save relationships.
Several students started applauding and Hector stood up.
When the applause had died, he fell on one knee and shouted,
 Hey, Ronnie, if my wife doesn t mind, will you marry me?
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12. Diane s Saturday Night
George Winston s piano music filled the bungalow. Diane
poured a glass of Chardonnay, found the novel she was reading
and settled out on her deck in a redwood lounger. Even though
she couldn t see the waves in the black night, she could hear
them. Their repetitious sound was soothing and comforting and
washed away the loneliness she always felt on Valentine s Day.
She detested the contrived holiday, which honored nothing and
only supported the chocolate and condom industries. Her
thoughts drifted back a week to her debate with Ronnie during
C&M. She chuckled, doubting that Ronnie would share her dis-
like of Valentine s Day, and she frowned when she thought of
Ronnie spending the evening with some blonde coed. She
reflected and realized she was jealous and basking in self-pity.
 How astute of you, Diane, she murmured. Claude jumped in
her lap, and she stroked the purring cat.  You love me, don t you,
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Claude?
She focused on positive things. Her classes were going well,
her research was on schedule and Ronnie was a godsend. She
marveled at Ronnie every day, the way her memory worked, cat-
aloguing information, indexing and cross-indexing. Ronnie was
working to assemble the data pieces that Diane would need. She
kept an accurate bibliography and had created a skeletal outline
for the book that matched Diane s vision. Sometimes she found
herself watching Ronnie as the young woman sat immersed in
the readings, marking passages or taking notes. When she typed
her hands flew across the keyboard, her eyes glued to the screen.
She was a workaholic, a driven researcher whose mind never
rested, and she reminded Diane of herself.
The phone rang and Diane let the machine pick up.  Diane,
it s Ronnie. I know you re there. Pick up.
Diane reached for the phone.  How did you know I was here?
Maybe I was out.
 You? Out on a Saturday night? I m willing to bet that you
are sitting on your deck and listening to jazz. Maybe having
some wine . . . perhaps a Merlot no, I think a Chardonnay.
Diane could feel her defenses rising.  So what if I am? What s
wrong with spending a Saturday night at home? Not that you
would ever do it. But it can be quite enjoyable and relaxing 
 Hey, Ronnie said,  I was just teasing you a little. Besides, I
wasn t guessing that you were home, I know you re home. Look
out at the beach.
Diane peered at the shore.  I don t see anything.
 What about now?
Diane watched as a sparkler suddenly illuminated the beach.
Ronnie was holding it out and waving it.
She had to laugh.  Ronnie, what are you doing? Fireworks
are illegal! What if my neighbors see you?
 Calm down. It s no big deal. They re just harmless
sparklers.
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 They re still illegal.
 Do you ever do anything against the rules, Dr. Cole?
Ronnie asked.
 Rarely.
 What about blurring the edges or coloring outside the
lines?
 I really don t know what you re talking about.
 Diane, do you ever park in a red zone if you re only going to
be in a store for sixty seconds?
 Of course not. How do you know you ll really be just a
minute? What if it turns into five or six? What if there s a fire?
 Oh, God. Ronnie sighed.
Suddenly the sparkler was extinguished and the phone line
went dead. Diane watched her approach, lit by her deck lights,
her blond hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Ronnie
looked like any other California girl, wearing board shorts and a
large blue cable-knit sweater over her T-shirt. Suddenly the age
difference between them seemed to grow to Grand Canyon-size
proportions, Ronnie in her beach clothes and Diane in her
pressed jeans and button-down shirt. Ronnie, though, didn t
seem to notice the difference in their attire, and in fact, Diane
may have imagined it, but she thought she caught Ronnie s gaze
roaming up and down her body.
 What are you doing here? she asked as Ronnie ascended
the deck stairs.  It s after nine thirty. Shouldn t you be at work?
 I got the night off since I spent the entire afternoon working
a wedding for Randy. I let Sammy have my shift. He can deal
with all of those happy couples on their Valentine dates. Also, I
wanted to give you the rest of the outline. She took a stack of
papers out of her backpack.
Diane quickly scanned them.  You didn t have to do this. I
was going to take care of it tomorrow.
Ronnie shrugged.  I had the time and I knew where you were
going with it.
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 You certainly did, Diane agreed, pleased. The fact that
Ronnie could practically read her mind was uncanny and some-
what unnerving.  Would you like some wine? She motioned
with her glass and went inside.  I think I have some cheesecake,
too.
Ronnie followed her, gazing at the bungalow s interior while
Diane watched her carefully. Ronnie had never actually been
inside Diane s house. Their work was always done at school, a
policy Diane had adopted only after hiring Ronnie. In the past,
she had worked at home with her other teaching and research
assistants, but for some reason, she had never suggested they
work together on weekends, and she had kept Ronnie separate
from her private life. Why this had happened, she couldn t
explain.
She watched Ronnie take in the entire space, which was really
only one great room divided into areas by furniture groupings
and décor, the Pacific Ocean serving as her backyard.
Uninhibited by the lack of walls, Diane wasn t afraid to mix
styles. Her contemporary living room fronted a country kitchen,
which faced the Queen Anne bedroom furniture hidden by some
sheer screens that provided a notion of privacy. Her office cov-
ered the entire back portion of the house, an attempt to camou-
flage work from her personal space. In most cases such an
assortment of styles would be offensive to the eye, she knew, but
the bungalow proved to be an exception.
 This is some place, Ronnie said.
Diane brought the wine and cheesecake to the sofa.  I can t
take much credit. My grandfather built it and my father gave it
to me. I just picked out the furniture.
 It s incredible, Ronnie murmured. Her gaze settled on
Diane s bed. She rose from the sofa and headed to the far side of
the room.
As Ronnie peered between the screens, Diane watched her,
more than a little uncomfortable at Ronnie s proximity to the
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queen-sized mattress. She knew she was being entirely irrational,
but if Ronnie actually sat down on the comforter, Diane knew
she would lose the ability to speak. Instead, Ronnie squatted and
gazed through the enormous picture window, giving herself an
idea of what Diane saw at the beginning and end of each day.
 If I had this view, Ronnie said, still staring intently at the
ocean,  I don t think I d ever get up.
 That s tempting sometimes.
Ronnie returned to the living area and plopped down next to
Diane, putting an appropriate distance between them.
 If tonight is your night off, why are you here? I would have
thought with it being Valentine s Day and Saturday night that
you d be out hitting the clubs, dancing the night away, Diane
said.
Ronnie swirled the remaining wine in her glass and swal-
lowed it quickly.  Contrary to popular belief, Professor, I do not
have a bevy of honeys who keep me warm every night, or a cal-
endar that s full of dates until Christmas. The fact is that I do not
have a valentine.
Diane raised an eyebrow.  So all of those stories I ve heard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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