As usual, the place was packed with tourists, most in town for the races. Texans in ostrich boots and cowboy hats flashed wads of money and ordered beer and margaritas by the pitcher. A group of New Yorkers took up a table for twenty, all having disembarked the chartered bus parked across the road. By the looks of them they had stripped the local souvenir shops of every tacky made-in-Taiwan Native American relic within a fifty-mile radius. One man wore a headdress of painted chicken feathers and wielded a rubber tomahawk, causing his companions to hoot in laughter every few minutes.
"Looks like the old place is rumbling tonight," Sam said, showing Leah to her chair. "We can go someplace else if you'd like."
"Wouldn't think of it. Besides, it's Friday night in Tourist Town. Every place will be packed."
Sam took his chair next to Leah, flashing his This-car-has-never-been-driven-over-thirty-miles-an-hour-and-was-owned-by-a-little-old-octogenarian-who-only-drove-it-on-Sundays smile at the teenage waitress dressed in a flamingo-pink can-can dress short enough to show off her frilly black petticoat.
"I called in earlier," he told her. "Name's Sam Clark. You got an order back there for me."
Without a word she turned on her spiked heels and elbowed her way toward the kitchen.
Lacing his fingers on the table, Sam looked around the patio. The trees twinkled with firefly-sized white lights. Candles burned under globe chimneys on each table, giving the area a fairy-tale appearance.
"You're looking especially nice tonight," he told her. "I like your earrings."
"And I like your … tie."
Sam looked pleased. "Good. It's got horses on it. See?" He flapped the thing at her. "I wore it just for you. Thought you'd appreciate the equestrian motif."
"Where on earth did you find it?" she asked, still smiling.
"Wal-Mart. They'd marked it down from seven dollars to three-fifty. Leftovers from their Easter sale, I think. Anyway, I found several I liked. Stocked up. Can't pass up a deal like that."
They nodded in unison.
"Hope you like this kinda music. I seen in the paper that this group was going to be here tonight. I saw them once before down at the convention center and thought, what the heck. Why not?"
"I like the oldies very much. They're my favorite."
"Yeah?" He fluttered his tie again. "Somehow you looked like the kinda gal who would enjoy a blast from the past. So who is your favorite?"
"Neil Diamond."
"Yeah." He nodded. "Ever seen him in concert? Puts on a helluva show. Least he used to. Haven't seen him in oh, probably twenty years or so."
"I have every album he ever did. His early ones are my favorites, though."
The waitress returned, wheeling an ice bucket stocked with a chilled bottle of champagne: Mums Extra Dry. Not Dom Perignon, certainly, but neither was it André' s. Sam's face lit up like a Christmas tree as he looked at Leah with an expression that made a knot form in her throat. Something was up, and she wasn't certain she was going to like it.
EIGHT
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After much cajoling on Dolores's part, Johnny finally agreed to a night out, despite his lack of sleep and the fact that he was supposed to fly his Cessna up to Boulder in the morning and catch a flight to D.C., where he was to speak first thing Monday morning before a congressional committee regarding the situation with the Indian Trust Fund.
With the top down on her Mercedes SL, Dolores's short black hair whipped freely in the night wind, as did Johnny's. The drive from Whitehorse Farm to Cedar Creek Road had been exhilarating, the mountain air biting their faces and taking their breath away. Johnny needed all the help he could get. His mind felt like mush. The idea of dancing away the next few hours was not high on his list of things he'd rather be doing. But, as usual, Dolores got her way. She always did. Which, he surmised, is what made her one of the finest reporters in the state. She simply did not know when to say no. Besides, she'd flogged him with enough guilt over his dalliance with Leah that he supposed he owed it to her.
And maybe a few beers and some light music would get his mind off the memory of Leah's mouth opening under his that morning, the way it had the very first time he'd kissed her. Timid. Hesitant. Experimenting with passion.
The valet hurried from his perch near the restaurant door, obviously enthused over the prospect of driving Dolores's car. The young man recognized