LITMIR.BIZ

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Damien was chipping in to give himself a few extras such as flying business class.

      At the moment, it was looking like one damned rewarding expenditure. “You quit in the middle of the family saga, prof.”

      “You’re sure you’re interested?” She was fidgeting with her wineglass, rotating the stem back and forth.

      He reached over to brush the back of her hand. “Positive.” A storyteller himself, he liked hearing other people’s tales. And Theresa was one of the most intriguing people he’d run into in a long while.

      “Stop me when you get bored.” She swallowed the last of her wine. “In the family, I was Dad’s kid, the academic. Kat was Mom’s. Mom’s a lawyer—a very successful personal injury litigator—and has always focused on people rather than research. Kat’s bright, but no academic. She’s outgoing, has a ton of friends. That’s the area where she’s superior.”

      “And the third? Jenna, did you say?”

      “Yes. For a long time, she was the baby. She acted out a lot, but could be a real charmer. So far, she’s spent her life drifting. Never found a focus.”

      “She didn’t carve out an area where she was superior?”

      Theresa made a sound that was between a snort and a chuckle. “She excels at being eccentric. She’s a nonconformist, a flake. Mom says she’s a kook, like Goldie Hawn on a TV show from the late sixties, early seventies, Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In.”

      Carmen came to take their empty appetizer dishes, replace them with their entrées, and refill their wine glasses. When she’d gone, he and Theresa both tasted the bugs, agreeing they were good but the sauce could have used more ginger.

      “The wine does go well with them,” she said.

      “Glad you like it. So, go on. There’s a fourth sister, the one who’s getting married?”

      “Yes, Merilee. After they had the three-pack, Mom and Dad were focused on their careers. As we girls grew up, I was into school, Kat was being Ms. Sociability, and Jenna was playing at whatever took her fancy. The five of us have pretty distinct, strong personalities.”

      “Yeah, I bet. If the rest are like you.”

      She wrinkled her cute turned-up nose at him. “We carved out our own niches, mostly respected each other’s boundaries, got our routine down pat. Then, eight years after Jenna, Mom got pregnant again. It wasn’t planned.”

      “Must have been a shock for her. For all of you.”

      “To put it mildly. Now there was a three-pack plus one, and we all had to adjust. This time Mom went back to work right after a short mat leave. Jenna lost her place as the baby, which made her act out even more. I got stuck with more older-sister responsibilities. But Merilee was an easy child. Not such a strong personality as the rest of us.”

      Must have been tough for the baby, following in the shoes of three strong and much older sisters. Theresa called them the three-pack plus one, not something like “the Fallon four.” “Sounds like the rest of you carved out your niches and didn’t leave anything special for Merilee.”

      “Well, sort of.” Her eyes began to dance with that sunlight-on-water sparkle. “She’d disagree, though.”

      “Yeah?” He put down his fork, gave her his full attention. “So, what’s your little sister superior at?”

      “According to her, it’s love. She’s the one sister who has a talent for it.”

      Love? “Oh yeah?”

      She nodded. “I’m divorced and determined never to make the same mistake. Kat wants to marry and have kids, but she always falls for losers. And Jenna, according to Mom, is a hippie who was born in the wrong decade.”

      “How so?”

      “She loves guys, loves sex, believes in the whole free-love, no-commitment thing. She says fidelity’s stupid because people aren’t hard-wired to be monogamous, so she flits from guy to guy and never intends to settle down. She has a short attention span. She’s excited about whatever new idea or man comes along, but not in a deep, real way.” Theresa raised her wineglass and slanted him a teasing glance. “Sounds like your ideal woman, right, Day?”

      “Hmm.” He tilted his head back and reflected. “Yeah, there’s a certain appeal to a woman like that. Fun with no strings.” He thought about the girls who’d come on to him in the last couple years. The succession of affairs. The sex, sometimes great and sometimes mediocre.

      The fact was, the names and faces had grown interchangeable. And he’d started to feel scummy. Like the woman didn’t really see him, just the successful, sexy author. And he didn’t see them as individuals either, just a series of hot babes.

      “But a guy grows up,” he said slowly. “Maybe he wants more. Someone he can really get to know. Bit by bit, layer by layer. Connecting, growing closer.”

      He found himself thinking of his friend Bry, which was a jolt because the last thing either of them was was gay. But in a way, his train of thought made sense. “You know how it is with a good friend?”

      Theresa was watching him intently, fork poised in the air as if she’d forgotten about it. “How do you mean?”

      “Like, how you first meet someone through a friend or through work.” He’d met Bry, a cop, when he was researching his first Kalti Brown book. He’d needed information about the structure of the police department, how crimes were investigated, and so on. “You hit it off, go for a beer, talk about something other than work. Find common interests. Discover you think the same way about things, have the same values.”

      Her eyes were narrowed in concentration. “Go on.”

      “The relationship grows. Pals turn into good buds who are there for each other, no matter what.”

      Now there was a sheen in her eyes. Was she thinking of a close friend? Or maybe wishing that’s how it was with her sisters?

      “So,” Damien said, “what if you had that kind of thing with someone of the opposite sex? A solid friendship plus great sex. Maybe that’d be worth building on, rather than moving on to the next lover.”

      “Yes, I…” She swallowed. “I think it sounds wonderful.” Her voice was choked up, like she was on the verge of tears.

      Suddenly he realized that he must have made her think of her ex-husband. “Crap. Sorry, Theresa. I didn’t mean to remind you of your marriage. I’m an idiot.”

      “No. But, surprisingly,” a tiny smile flashed, “you’re a bit of a romantic.” The smile disappeared. “And, while that kind of relationship does sound great, how do you know it’s real? That you can trust in it?”

      “That it’ll beat the statistical odds? I dunno. Gut instinct? Leap of faith?” He wondered whether she’d fallen out of love with her husband, or vice versa.

      Knowing that the enforced companionship of a long flight could breed its own kind of trust and openness, he tested the waters. “I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”

      “I made a big mistake, falling for Jeffrey. I learned I couldn’t trust him.”

      “Damn. He cheated on you?” The guy must’ve been a right bastard and a fool.

      A corner of her mouth turned up ruefully. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Not with another woman. And in fact, he didn’t exactly cheat on me, he cheated me out of recognition.”

      I’m intrigued.”

      She made a face, picked up her wineglass, and drained it. “For this, I need more wine.”

      He leaned into the aisle, caught Carmen’s eye, and held up his own empty glass. She gave him a nod, then turned toward the galley.

      She returned with the wine bottle, filled

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