One Day at a Time Page 0,19

island. The house was quiet, and it was easy and pleasant. It was Saturday night, and neither of them had obligations or plans.

“Would you like some?” She pointed at the sushi, and he nodded as she got up to get more out of the fridge. And he was instantly on his feet to help her.

“You don't have to wait on me. I'm the interloper here. Thanks for buying food today. I'll get the next round.” They were like two roommates who had wound up sharing a house, and good manners prevailed. He was very English and obviously very nicely brought up. He helped himself to some sushi, and she gave him a plate, and made him a salad, as he thanked her.

“What part of England are you from?” she asked as they ate their dinner, and Jack sat watching them with interest. Sallie had smelled the fish and gone back to bed.

“A little town just outside London. I never got to London till I was twelve. My father was a postman, and my mum was a nurse. I had a very middle-class upbringing, and a very normal home life as a kid. My parents were horrified I wanted to be an actor, and embarrassed by it actually, at first anyway. My dad wanted me to be a teacher, or a banker, or a doctor. I faint at the sight of blood. And I thought teaching was too boring. So I took acting lessons and started out doing Shakespeare. I was bloody awful.” He grinned at her. “Good salad. No syrup?” he teased her.

“I bought more.” She laughed at him. “And waffles.”

“Perfect. I'll make them tomorrow. And what did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked her, looking as though he cared about the answer.

“I was never really sure. I just didn't want to be my parents. Or in film like my sister, she was so intense about it. She's that way about everything she does, but it didn't look like a lot of fun. I always hated writing. For about five minutes, I wanted to be an artist. But I don't have a lot of talent. I do watercolors once in a while, but nothing terrific. Just beach scenes and still lifes of flowers and vases. I studied art history in college. I probably would have liked teaching, or research of some kind. And then my father talked me into law. He said it was a good starting point for anything I'd want to do later, like go into his business and be an agent. I didn't want to do that either, and I hated law school. The teachers were mean to everyone, the students were nasty and competitive and neurotic. Everyone was trying to put everyone else down. I was terrified for two whole years and cried all the time. I was scared to death I'd flunk out, and then my father died and I quit.”

“And then what?”

“I was relieved.” She smiled at him across the table. “I was living with somebody then. My parents didn't approve of him either. He had dropped out of law school too, in Australia. He loved the outdoors, and he ran a diving school, so we moved to the beach, and I was never happier in my life. I came up with the dog-walking idea, just to tide me over for a while, and three years later I'm still doing it. It works for me. I'm living at the beach, and it's what I want to do for now. My whole house is smaller than this kitchen. My mother calls it a 'shack,' and I love it.”

“And the Australian with the diving school?” Leslie asked her with interest as he finished his salad, and sat back in his chair, looking at her. She looked like a normal, happy woman, except when she talked about law school. “Is he still around too?”

“No, he isn't,” she said, shaking her head quietly.

“That's too bad. Your eyes lit up when you talked about him.”

“He was a great guy. We lived together for two years, and then he had an accident and died.” Leslie looked at her more intently as she said it. She looked sad about it, but not distraught. She seemed as though she had made her peace with it a long time before. But he was startled by what she'd said, and sorry for her. She didn't look sorry for herself.

“Car accident?”

“Hang gliding. A gust of wind blew him into a cliff,