her to sit next to him and bring him luck. His eyes were full of mischief and he almost looked the same, except for the gray hair.
“You’ve been doing fine without me,” she whispered as she sat down, and made no comments as they played. Paul lost again, but not as much, and again didn’t seem bothered by it. He filled his pockets with the vast amount of chips he had left, and stood up to cash them in.
“Bonsoir, Monsieur Gilmore,” the croupier said. Paul left the table and Maggie followed him. He stopped immediately and gave her an enormous hug. She remembered easily how close they had been and how much she loved him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I’m on vacation,” she said, slightly embarrassed. It was too much to explain, without sounding pathetic.
“Are you alone?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling seventeen again. She had turned eighteen while they were dating. He was slightly older than she was, forty-nine now, and she was forty-eight. He still had a handsome boyish face, and the silver hair made him look sophisticated, but it was still Paul, no matter how far life had taken him from their humble beginnings. No one would have guessed it to look at him now. He had the appearance of a man of substance, accustomed to the fast life. “Come and have a drink with me,” he said, visibly happy to see her. He cashed in his chips and put the money in his pocket, then led her to the bar. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, as though she were some kind of mirage.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, still beaming at her, and she laughed.
“You must be blind. I wish that were true.”
“How long has it been?”
“Thirty years.”
“We have a lot of catching up to do.” He ordered champagne for both of them. “What are you doing here? Do you live in Europe?” he asked. She laughed at the thought and suddenly wished she did. He seemed so worldly and sophisticated, she felt like a hick next to him.
“No. I live in Lake Forest, Illinois. I’m just here on vacation.” She tried to make it sound ordinary, although it wasn’t for her, and she was acutely aware of how plain her dress was, and how simple she looked compared to the other women in the casino. When they had known each other, he had lived in that awful cottage, dirt poor, racing motorcycles, and she had had a stable home with Harry and her mother, who hadn’t approved of him. He appeared to have done well in thirty years. Everyone in the casino seemed to know him and smiled when they saw him.
“Why are you here alone? You’re married?” She was wearing her wedding ring. He knew nothing of her life since he’d last seen her. He had never gone home again, except for two days when his mother died, not long after he won his first big race. He had lost touch with everyone from his past.
She shook her head with a serious expression when he asked if she was married. “No, I’m not,” she said simply.
He pointed to the ring with a quizzical expression. “Divorced? Bad guy? I remember how much your mother hated me.”
Maggie grinned at the memory. “She thought you were wild and dangerous, and said you would break my heart.” But he hadn’t, they had parted on good terms when he left right after they graduated. She went to college, and he went to Southern California and Mexico to race. “No, I’m not divorced, and he was a great guy. We loved each other and we have a son. We were in a plane crash last December, and he died.”
“Oh God. I’m sorry, Maggie. Was he flying his own plane? I fly too. That hits close to home.” She smiled at the question, his life was obviously a lot more extravagant than theirs, and worlds apart.
“No, it was a commercial flight, from Chicago to New York. We wound up in the Hudson River in a snowstorm. Forty-nine people died and he was one of them.”
“What rotten luck.” He looked sympathetic and sad for her. She was still beautiful and too young to be a widow.
She nodded, there wasn’t much more to add, except that it had nearly killed her and this was the first trip she’d ever taken alone, which she didn’t want to say.
“What about you? Married? Kids?” she asked him.
“Twice and none,” he