Below, the blonde came out onto her patio. She was wearing white shorts and halter today. She looked Ted's way for seconds--and then waved.
"Beautiful morning," she called, and Ted answered, "It certainly is."
She picked up a book from the low table near her chaise lounge and settled.
Hamilton was sniffing the ice plant on the slope. "If the neighbors only knew--"
"There's nothing to know. She'd be less than human if she didn't say 'hello' after seeing me day after day."
His wife appeared in the doorway. "Who in the world are you talking to?"
"Myself." He looked at her bleakly. "More quarreling about a job?"
"No." She came out onto the porch and settled in the chair beside him. "Ted, there's the squirrel. That's the one who's afflicted with--with voyeurism."
"His nest is right up there, in the nutmeg tree. Ted, I want you to destroy it."
"I'm not being childish. They eat young bark and buds and birds' eggs. They're evil things, Ted."
"Cute. Without the tail, they're just another rat. How some people can eat them is beyond me."
The pinkness and the sluice and the three-armed man with the enormous chest seemed to swim, for a moment, in Ted's memory. Hamilton went scurrying up the nutmeg tree.
Little devil? The devil, maybe? No, not Hamilton. Ted said, "No club meeting today? No garden, home, cooking, household management or knitting circle shindigs?"
"Why don't we drive up the coast and eat out, tonight?"
"I'd love to, Ted. But I really have to finish that petit point for Dora's anniversary. I shouldn't be sitting here now, without it."
"You look very good without it. We could stop at _Sweeney's_."
_Sweeney's_ had the finest sea food west of New Orleans. And the immortal Sweeney, himself, behind the bar.
"Don't tempt me," Ann said, and rose. "Why don't you drive up the coast? You're restless."
"Maybe I will," he said. He tried to make it sound like an accusation, but it came out a flat, dull statement.
After she'd gone into the house, he sat for a while, considering the blonde. He didn't even know her name, and still he.... Well, why should he know her name? There wasn't much of her visible now; she had the raised section of the chaise lounge turned his way.
He rose, after awhile, and went along the walk to the garage. He climbed into the convertible, started the motor, and unhooked the top, pressing the button to lower it.