“Good. I’ll send a waitress.”
He was on his feet as she approached, grinning with pleasure. “Am I glad to see you!” he said, and held her chair for her. “Until now, this evening threatened to be deadly dull. What are you doing in Seattle?”
He knew what she was doing there. He knew about her trip, and had planned one to coincide with it. Both had been delayed when Millennium postponed all unessential trips because of the epidemic.
“I’m here to familiarize myself with local conditions and personnel at the center,” she said. “What brings you here?”
He laughed. “Somewhat the same thing, actually. I’m familiarizing myself with the staff. Interviewing, and asking questions.” He paused, taking her in with his eyes. “Well! This is a treat!”
A waitress arrived with a menu for Lee, and Duke declined to order till she was ready. Meanwhile they both ordered cocktails, and talked. He’d been in Chicago for three days, just before the flu, to handle some things with his editor. They’d been having a brutal winter there. He’d seen a show and a Bulls game . . . “Oh, and I learned some things about David Hunter, the retired general. Nothing sinister, but very interesting: He’s not a graduate of the Air Force Academy. He went to school at Cornell, majored in operations management, and took four years of Air Force ROTC. And . . .” Cochran paused, grinning. “He used to date—Florence Metzger!”
Lee frowned, puzzled.
“Our president, back when she was an Olympic swimmer. They were an item, apparently. What do you think of that?”
“I’m not sure. Is it significant?”
“Possibly, but I’ve wracked my brain and haven’t come up with anything. A tantalizing bit of information though.”
The waitress returned, took their orders, and again they waited. Their talk turned to the current turmoil in the Catholic Church, which had polarized over the agenda for Vatican Three, and not only birth control. From the Church, the conversation moved to sports. It was, she realized, a treat to sit talking with a mature adult whose views on many things were unknown to her. By the time their meal arrived, she’d started on her third drink almost without noticing. The baked salmon was excellent—she did notice that—and so was the rest of the food. Not till they’d finished eating did she glance out the window.
“It’s stopped raining!” she said.
“Good! I noticed a dance club across the street. Shall we check it out?”
“I’ll get my rain coat,” she answered, “just in case.”
She met him in the lobby—he’d gotten his too—and they left. The city smelled clean, rainwashed. As they walked chatting and laughing to the corner, an occasional small drop ticked her face. She hadn’t felt so young since she was a student at Syracuse, on a date with a special boyfriend. There were more people in the club than Lee had expected. She supposed they were celebrating the end of the flu, those who could afford to. The band was good. Seventies disco was in style again, both the old numbers, and new ones in the seventies style. They danced and laughed through more than an hour and two more drinks, sweating a little with exertion, eyes meeting playfully. It wasn’t until a slow dance was played, and they danced cheek to cheek, that she realized how late it was.
“I think we’d better get back to the hotel,” she said. “Merlin will be picking me up at eight tomorrow.”
“Right. I’d forgotten all about the time.”
They left without finishing their drinks. It was raining more briskly again, and they ran to the corner and across the street. Then they walked, holding hands, Lee breathless and laughing. The lobby, and rotunda, rich in ferns, seemed warm and friendly, and they held hands again while waiting for an elevator.
“What floor are you on?” Duke asked.
“Fifteen. Room 1547.”
“I’m in 1643. We’re almost neighbors.”
He got off with her and walked her to her door. When they got there, she turned to him, and he took her hands. “It was a wonderful evening,” Duke said, looking into her eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed one so much. It’s—hard to say goodnight.”