Steve exclaimed, “My God! We left the children in the car! Let’s go get them!” And to the captain, “We’d like two martinis, very dry. Hold the olives. We’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain watched the two of them hurry out of the restaurant.
“What are you doing?” Julia asked.
“Getting out of here. All he has to do is call the press, and we’re in trouble. We’ll go somewhere else.”
They found a little restaurant on Dalton Street and ordered lunch.
Steve sat there, studying her. “How does it feel to be a celebrity?” he asked.
“Please don’t joke about that. I feel terrible.”
“I know,” he said contritely. “I’m sorry.” He was finding it very easy to be with her. He thought about how rude he had been when they first met.
“Do you…do you really think I’m in danger, Mr. Sloane?” Julia asked.
“Call me Steve. Yes. I’m afraid you are. But it will be for only a little while. By the time the will is probated, we’ll know who’s behind this. In the meantime, I’m going to see to it that you’re safe.”
“Thank you. I…I appreciate it.”
They were staring at each other, and when an approaching waiter saw the looks on their faces, he decided not to interrupt them.
In the car, Steve asked, “Is this your first time in Boston?”
“Yes.”
“It’s an interesting city.” They were passing the old John Hancock Building. Steve pointed to the tower. “You see that beacon?”
“Yes.”
“It broadcasts the weather.”
“How can a beacon…?”
“I’m glad you asked. When the light is a steady blue, it means the weather is clear. If it’s a flashing blue, you can expect clouds to be near. A steady red means rain ahead, and flashing red, snow instead.”
Julia laughed.
They reached the Harvard Bridge. Steve slowed down. “This is the bridge that links Boston and Cambridge. It’s exactly three hundred sixty-four point four Smoots and one ear long.”
Julia turned to stare at him. “I beg your pardon?”
Steve grinned. “It’s true.”
“What’s a Smoot?”
“A Smoot is a measurement using the body of Oliver Reed Smoot, who was five feet seven inches. It started as a joke, but when the city rebuilt the bridge, they kept the marks. The Smoot became a standard of length in 1958.”
She laughed. “That’s incredible!”
As they passed the Bunker Hill Monument, Julia exclaimed, “Oh! That’s where the Battle of Bunker Hill took place, isn’t it?”
“No,” Steve said.
“What do you mean?”
“The Battle of Bunker Hill was fought on Breed’s Hill.”
Steve’s home was in the Newbury Street area of Boston, a charming two-story house with comfortable furniture and colorful prints hanging on the walls.
“Do you live here alone?” Julia asked.
“Yes. I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week. I’m going to tell her not to come in for the next few days. I don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”
Julia looked at Steve and said warmly, “I want you to know I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“My pleasure. Come on, I’ll show you your bedroom.”
He led her upstairs to the guest room. “This is it. I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“Oh, yes. It’s lovely,” Julia said.
“I’ll bring in some groceries. I usually eat out.”
“I could—” She stopped. “On second thought, I’d better not. My roommate says my cooking is lethal.”
“I think I’m a fair hand at a stove,” Steve said. “I’ll do some cooking for us.” He looked at her and said slowly. “I haven’t had anyone to cook for for a while.”
Back off, he told himself. You’re way off base. You couldn’t keep her in handkerchiefs.
“I want you to make yourself at home. You’ll be completely safe here.”
She looked at him a long time, then smiled. “Thank you.”
They went back downstairs.
Steve pointed out the amenities. “Television, VCR, radio, CD player…You’ll be comfortable.”
“It’s wonderful.” She wanted to say, “Just like I feel with you.”
“Well, if there’s nothing else,” he said awkwardly.
Julia gave him a warm smile. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Then I’ll be getting back to the office. I have a lot of questions without answers.”