kissed her lightly on the mouth. At that moment Jake, who had waited patiently behind me, bounded in.
“Jakie!” Sandy squealed. She immediately knelt and began to give Jake a good rub around his neck and ears.
“Boy, I see who ranks around here,” I teased.
“You’ll get yours later big guy,” Sandy grinned.
“My ears rubbed?”
“Yes, and more. Now get in the kitchen and fix that famous Caesar salad. I’m starved.”
Jake went immediately to the living area and lay down in front of the fireplace even though there was no fire. It was his favorite spot in Sandy’s condo. I went obediently to the kitchen and began preparing Caesar salad. Sandy began working on fettuccini with a light Alfredo sauce and garlic bread. A bottle of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay was on the kitchen island, opened and waiting. Sandy poured two glasses. I usually drank beer but I could not pass up a bottle of “KJ” as she called it. I sipped the wine and began to create.
Youngblood’s recipe for terrific Caesar salad goes something like this: Start with the best head of romaine lettuce you can find and tear off the bottom, thereby separating the leaves. Wash in ice-cold water and pat dry with paper towel. Tear the leaves into eatable size portions while scrutinizing for any flaws in the lettuce. Be liberal in what you throw away. Split the stalk where it is too large. Place the lettuce in a jumbo salad bowl and add an appropriate amount of Cardini’s original Caesar salad dressing. Yes, I know I should make my dressing from scratch using an egg and anchovies, but what do you expect from a bachelor? Toss the lettuce until the leaves are lightly coated. Using a brick of Parmesan cheese, grate an appropriate amount over the lettuce. Add homemade croutons (which I made earlier). Be sure and crush some of the croutons so that you have some nice size crumbs spread throughout the salad. This will enhance the flavor. Toss until all ingredients are well mixed, then eat your heart out.
We were in bed and it was well past midnight. Dinner had been a rousing success. After dinner had been even better. When we had finished the last of the wine I kissed her. Seconds later Sandy and I were hurriedly undressing each other on the way to Sandy’s king-size bed. We had urgent, physical sex followed by a less aggressive period of very tender sensual lovemaking. After a rest and a long conversation about stocks and my case, we made love again. Sandy lay asleep in my arms and I was on the twilight of sleep trying to figure out my next move on the Fleet case. The last thing I remember was thinking that maybe I should find Bud Hoffman.
I woke to an empty bed and the smell of fresh coffee. The hum of the air conditioning beckoned me to roll over and drift off again. I reluctantly ignored it. Sandy was showered and dressed when I stumbled into the kitchen wearing only the white robe I kept at her place for when I stayed over.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.
I waved weakly. I prefer total silence between getting up and having my first cup of coffee and a shower, after which I feel human enough to speak. I took a mug of coffee offered to me by a smiling Sandy, added cream and sugar, and headed for the bathroom. Although amused, Sandy understood me well enough to accept my morning ritual. She would wait patiently while the hot water, soap, shampoo, shaving cream, razor, and toothbrush performed their magic and I reappeared a new and more responsive man. Fifteen minutes later I was sitting at the kitchen bar having a second cup of coffee and eating a whole-wheat English muffin.
“Has Jake been out?” I asked.
“Of course. We had a very nice walk.”
At the sound of his name, Jake the dog came over for a morning rub. When he had lost my attention, he went to Sandy for more pampering. When Sandy dismissed him, he went back to his favorite spot and lay down.
“We have to talk,” Sandy said seriously.
I stared. Not good, I thought.
“I’m moving,” she said calmly.
I was stunned. “Where?”
“Atlanta.”
“Why?” I asked, but being the great detective that I am, I was reasonably sure of her answer. Only one thing would draw Sandy away from Mountain Center.
“I have accepted a new offer of employment,” she said quite pertly.
“Who with?”
“Wachovia.”
“Damn,” was all I could muster as a reply.
We kept silent as we finished our pseudo breakfast. Sandy had been in my life for a year and I very much liked our arrangement. I enjoyed all of her with no commitment. As the words I’m moving echoed through my brain, I slowly began to realize that maybe I cared for her more than I was willing to admit. I did not want her to go anywhere! I did not want another woman in my life. On the other hand, I did not want to hold back her career. She had obviously given this some thought and decided the move was right for her.
Or was she giving me an unspoken ultimatum? It was my experience that most women wanted commitment. Was I, a confirmed bachelor, capable of making a commitment? My head was spinning.
“Atlanta’s not so far away,” I said.
“No, it’s not.”
“How soon?”
“Two weeks.”
Two weeks, I wanted to scream. Instead I said, “We could see each other a lot.”
“Yes, we could.”
“Jake would miss you,” I added.
“And I would miss him,” Sandy said with a slight smile. She was very mechanical and proper in her responses.
The next words out of my mouth were supposed to be I’ll miss you too, but what came out was, “I have to get to the office.”
“Me too,” she said.
I clicked Jake’s leash onto his collar, gave Sandy a light kiss and headed for the front door.
“I’ll call you,” I said as I closed the door behind me.
Jake and I went to the office. Over the last year I had taken Jake to the office on the average of twice a week. Lately, he seemed to be going every day. The building management had not bothered to restrict dogs in my lease since they undoubtedly thought a dog in my office would not be an issue. So far no one on the second floor had complained. In fact the entire female population of the second floor always seemed to come by to pet Jake once the word was out that he was in.
I parked in my reserved parking spot in the back lot. As soon as I was out of the Pathfinder, Jake jumped out the driver’s side and ran to the back door of the building and waited. He knew the routine. The Hamilton Building was a five-story stone office building built in the 1920s and recently restored to near its original look inside and out. I punched in the five-digit code that gave me access to the back staircase. Jake was at the top of the stairs in a flash. When I joined an impatient Jake at the second floor entrance, I punched in a four-digit code, which allowed us entry to the
