for a little while. She needed time to think on serious
matters and suggested he do likewise. It was hard on him.
He did miss her. But there was the possibility she was
simply too independent for any one man.
He held to his hopes, however. Perhaps someday she
would tire of her wanderings and come back to him. There
wasn’t a thing he could do but wait.
As for Flor Quintera, the cheerleader he’d inadvertently
brought into this world, she had turned out to be a major
disappointment. Instead of being properly fascinated by
him, it developed that she lusted after a career as a
sword-wielding soldier of fortune and had gone off with
Caz, the tall, suave rabbit with the Ronald Colman voice
and sophisticated manners. Jon-Tom hadn’t heard of them
hi months. Flor was a dream that had brought him back to
reality, and fast.
At least this was a fit world in which to pursue dreams.
At the moment, though, he was supposed to be pursuing
medicine. He clung to that thought as he turned down the
tiny side street.
True to the marten’s information he heard sounds of
singing and raucous laughter. But instead of a single small
oil lamp there were big impressive ones flanking the door,
fashioned of clear beveled crystal.
Above the door was a swinging sign showing a finely
coiffed hound clad in feathers and jewels. She was gazing
back over her furry shoulder with a distinctly come-hither
look, and her hips were cocked rakishly.
There was a small porch. Standing beneath the rain
shield, Jon-Tom knocked twice on the heavily oiled door.