Reconcilable Differences

Trish gratefully dumped the goody bag on the bed and out dropped a plethora of useful items: a comb, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, a compact of pressed face powder, a tube of lipstick, a pair of panties and a bra. There was even a black and white jogging suit in her size.

Trish was so grateful she could have shouted with joy, and the thoughtful gesture was so unlike Robert. As difficult as it would be, she would have to swallow her pride and thank him.

She gathered up several of the items and headed for the shower.

After fifteen minutes of hot water and swirling steam, Trish felt like a new woman. She dried off, combed her hair and while it dried, she rinsed out her underclothes and hung them up to dry.

As she struggled with the decision of whether to go down to dinner or settle for room service, the telephone rang.

“Mrs. Manning, this is Justin Addison. We’re going down to dinner soon and Dave wants to know if you’re ready.”

“I was just considering ordering room service,” she said.

“One moment, ma’am.”

She could hear him consulting with someone in the background, then he came on the line again.

“Ma’am, Dave says that’s not a good idea. We’ve been ordered to keep an eye on you, so if you don’t go down to dinner, a couple of us will have to remain up there with you.”

“And you’d have to be one of them, isn’t that right, Mr. Addison?”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” he said.

Apparently the decision had been made for her. “Okay, I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

The new underwear and jogging suit were a perfect fit. Leave it to Robert to be able to appraise a woman’s figure.

She pulled her hair back into a plain ponytail and tied it with a piece of white ribbon that had been wrapped around the jogging suit. After adding a light dusting of powder to her nose and cheeks, a dash of gloss to her lips, she was ready when the rap came on the door exactly five minutes later.

Dave, Justin Addison and the agent they called Kurt Bolen were in the hallway.

“Gosh, gentlemen, are you sure three of you big, macho males are enough to keep li’l ole me from escaping?”

“I guess we’ll just have to risk it, Mrs. Manning,” Dave said. “Your husband preferred to eat earlier so we were forced to split up the squad.”

She was pleased to hear she wouldn’t have to have dinner with Robert. Two consecutive nights facing him across a table would have been a tough row to hoe. Granted, she was grateful for the goody bag, but it fell far short of erasing the sordid memories of the past two years.

Deciding to try a restaurant elsewhere, the group strolled along casually, peeking into shop windows. They finally settled on a quaint rathskeller several blocks from the hotel.

Despite her hunger, Trish was unable to finish the tasty baked apple stuffed with pork that she had ordered. The men however had no problem consuming large plates of thick slices of sauerbraten served with plump dumplings and steins of dark beer.

When it came time for dessert, Kurt insisted they order one called Zwetschgenkuchen. The guys went along with his selection, and as they drank steaming hot cups of strong coffee, the waitress brought them the dessert.

Trish already had had enough to eat, but Kurt insisted she try a small piece.

“You’ll love it, Mrs. Manning. When I was young, I remember my German grandmother used to make it all the time. I haven’t had a piece since she died.”

Trish relented. “Well, out of respect to your dearly departed grandmother, Kurt, I’ll take a tiny piece.”

“This isn’t bad,” Justin declared after taking a hardy bite. “What am I eating?”

“It appears to be a puff pastry and the filling tastes like plum,” Trish said.

“Trouble with plums, Mrs. Manning, no matter how juicy and sweet they taste, they shrivel up into prunes,” Dave said.

The comment was too deliberate to be casual. Then she recalled he’d talked of plums and prunes the last time they’d made love. She raised her head and looked at him. His gaze was fixed on her. So he too was remembering that—and the tragic ending to that day.

“Don’t you agree, Mrs. Manning?” he said.

“I suppose they do, Agent Cassidy. But at least they’re sweet while they last.” Right back at you, David Cassidy!

Trish raised the fork to her mouth and slipped a piece of the pastry between her lips.

“Dave, do you mind if the kid and I kind of check out the town for a little while?” Kurt said. “We’ll be pulling out of here first thing in the morning.”

“What time is your watch?”

“Not until midnight.”

“Then you better make sure your butt’s in that hallway when the clock strikes twelve.”

“Thanks, sir,” Justin said, jumping to his feet. “Let’s go, Kurt.”

“Are you ready to leave, Mrs. Manning?” Dave asked, after paying the check.

Now that they were alone, Trish was so tempted to challenge his attitude. To try and have him get out whatever was on his mind. But she just couldn’t get the right words out either. They were at an impasse.

“Yes, any time you are.”

Once outside they saw the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Fog had moved in, and it was difficult to see more than a short distance ahead.

“Our being alone puts you at a disadvantage, doesn’t it, Agent Cassidy?”

“Now why would you think that, Mrs. Manning?”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll try to escape?”

“It’s not going to keep me awake worrying about it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“What reason would I even have to try?”

“I have no idea. You brought it up, Mrs. Manning.”

“And even if I’d succeed, what good would it do? I don’t have anything except these clothes on my back.”

She was babbling and she knew it, but she was too nervous to remain quiet.

“Glad to see they fit.”