twitched his head in surprise. “What would get you to turn down a free meal?”
“An old girlfriend,” he lied.
“Right. I guess that would.”
The longing persisted all through his lunch of fish and chips and beer. He was surprised by how firmly it gripped him, but when he thought about it, it wasn’t so surprising. She’d been dwelling in the back of his mind ever since he’d seen her, and he was always delighted to see her again, the rare times she showed up in Loki. The only cure was to act. Resolute, like a soldier, he went to his room, got his address book from his overnight bag, sat on the bed, and dialed. The housekeeper answered.
“Halo, Bibi Di—“ he began, then cleared his throat, deciding on a more formal, businesslike approach. “Nataka kusema na Lady Briggs tafadhali. Ni mimi Bwana Martin.”
“Bwana Martin, okay. Subiri kidogo.”
He waited, long enough to feel his nerve failing him. Then:
“Fitz! So sorry to keep you. I’d just finished up in the ring.”
“The ring?”
“My horse. Where are you?”
He told her, and she said he was moving up in the world. He pictured her in jodhpurs and boots, tousling her hair, matted by the riding hat she was holding by the strap.
“I’m here with Doug and Wes. Talking to some wabenzi who’s interested in advancing us some capital.”
“Marvelous. I was speaking to John the other day, and he rather feels you’ve been neglecting him. He’s got, oh, tons of stuff waiting to go to the Nuba, and he can hardly get a plane scheduled.”
“We’ve been so committed. That mess in Bahr el Ghazal, yes?”
“Dreadful.”
“You heard what happened to Tara? To her pilot, I should say?”
“Ghastly.”
He paused to gather himself and, in a voice scrubbed of any emotion, asked if she was free for dinner. The first part of her answer—“Delighted!”—came so quickly and was so positive that the second part—“On condition Wes keeps the obnoxious remarks to a minimum”—didn’t register immediately. When it did, he hesitated.
“Are you there, Fitz?”
“Yes.” His heart was stammering. “Wesley won’t be there. Or Doug. I’m asking if you’re free.”
“I still am.”
“It’s a long way for you into town, and a woman alone ought not to be driving at night.”
“Perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know! I’d prefer a place out your way.”
“There’s the Horseman, which I don’t like, and the Rusty Nail, which I do. I know the chef. I’ll ring up for a table and meet you there. Now listen, Fitz, it’s a frightfully expensive cab ride. Let me pick that up.”
“I am perfectly capable of paying for myself.” He raised his voice to a feminine treble, mimicking her accent. “See you there. Seven.”
She laughed, and he heard her say, as if speaking to someone in the room with her, “My God, I believe I’ve been asked out on a date.”
He knew the dim lighting flattered her, erasing every line; still, his throat tightened a little when he saw her, ravishing in a sleeveless dove-gray blouse with a scooped neckline, and a linen skirt that teased her knees, a silk shawl tossed over her bare shoulders, a choker throwing off emerald gleams from her throat, her hair champagne-gold. Though he’d showered, shaved, brushed his hair, and splashed on some Bay Rum, he felt grubby and underdressed. He also felt conspicuous. Apart from some of the help and one black couple, his was the darkest complexion in the place. Plus, he was in the company of an older white woman, who might or might not be married (he still wasn’t sure) and who was obviously not dressed for a business meeting. He caught a few patrons stealing looks at the mismatched couple sitting at an intimate corner table, near a window. He tried to ignore them, reminding himself that he was now a junior, albeit very junior, partner in a successful young airline and belonged here as much as anyone else. Diana was perceptive enough to notice that he was failing to convince even himself.
“Do relax and don’t mind them,” she said, laying her hand on his. She seemed to deliberately leave it there as a waiter presented menus. “I know everybody here. It would be jolly fun to get some gossip going.”
He didn’t know what to make of the remark. There was some sort of encouragement in it, surely; but he didn’t care to be a prop in some game of cheap social scandal.
She did know everybody, interrupting her study of the menu several times to flutter her fingers