Skinny Girl in Bikini

by

Robert Nowall

                It was the uncomfort that woke me up.  I slept on no soft bed.  It was a couch.  It was lumpy and hard.  I blinked.  Lights were on, but it was morning and light came from windows.  I sat up on the couch and looked around.

                It was a hotel room.  I was in a room with a couch and television, and one side was a mini-kitchen and a counter in front of it.  A suitcase, my suitcase, was on the counter, open, a T-shirt and a pair of socks hanging over the suitcase edge.  My clothes, the clothes I wore when I checked in last night, were draped over a chair.  I looked down at myself.  I wore a pair of briefs.

                A blanket fell down from me as I sat up.  There was a separate bedroom in this hotel room, which must be behind the door to my right.  The door was open.  Had I gone in there last night?  I thought so.  There was a bathroom and I had used it.

                I hadn’t been drunk or anything, just tired.  I guessed, once I took off my clothes, I didn’t get as far as putting pajamas on.  I must have just gone to the couch and fell asleep.  Did I turn the TV on?  Was it on a timer?

                The door to the bedroom was to the right, next to the counter and the kitchen.  The door to the room was to my left.  The TV was on the wall right in front of me.  The light came from behind, from windows.

                I turned my head around.  The window was big glass doors, with maybe a patio or lanai beyond.  The curtains were drawn over the doors, but light let through.  She stood looking at the curtains.

                She turned around.  I remembered her.  When I arrived, I took a walk around the hotel, to see what’s what, something I did every time I checked into a hotel.  I met her down by the pool.  We chatted for a while---flirted---but I had to beg off, being, as I said, dog tired and exhausted.

                It was the bikini she wore that caught my attention, that we chatted about before I left.  It was three small patches of fabric, tiny triangles, just covering the nipples and pubic area, held together by thin straps.  And the colors didn’t match.  The left breast was red, the right breast was green, and the pubic area was blue.

                The fabric concealed nothing, but there was nothing much to conceal.  She was a skinny thing, breasts not large at all, not much red hair cut short, hips not having much padding.  If she had more clothes on, I might have mistaken her for a young boy.  But the bikini did not leave that to the imagination---she was a girl.

                I wondered how she had the nerve to wear it.

                I would have talked more, but I had just gotten in and was tired.  I remembered, making a half-promise to meet up some other time or thought I had.

                What was her name again?  Jocelyn?  Yes, Jocelyn.  I got her name last night and given mine.  Timothy Deacon.  Traveler and tourist.  Had she said what she did?  She still wore the bikini with the mismatched colors.  She smiled.

                I sat, looking over my shoulder, and blinked at her.  “Glad you’re awake,” she said, as she came over and stood next to the couch.

                “Er, ah…” I said.

                Sadness flickered across her face.  “You don’t remember me.”

                “No, no,” I said.  “I remember you…I think.  But I thought I came back to my room, er, alone.”

                She sat down next to me and leaned against me.  I shriveled a little and leaned a little away.  I was worried, and about one thing.  “Did we, ah…”

                “No.”  She chuckled.  The worry lifted a little.  Sex changed everything, and I did not know much more about her than her first name and that she had the guts to wear a bikini like that.

                She went on.  “You dropped your key card in the hall when you opened the door.  By the time I used it to come in, you were asleep on the couch.”  She leaned even closer, but I was still leaning away.

                I hesitated, licked my dry lips, and said, “Jocelyn.”

                “You got it.”  She lifted my arm and put it around her shoulder---I let her do it---then tried to cuddle closer.  I was still withdrawing.  One worry might have lifted, but I was still uneasy about the whole situation.

                After a few moments, I said, “Did I, ah, invite you in?”

                “Well, no, no,” she said, and pulled away a little.  My arm was still around her.  “I followed you up on the next elevator.  The elevator door opened just as you fumbled with your key card.  I saw you drop it.”

                “You went in right away?”

                “Well, I waited a few minutes.  But you were asleep on the couch by then.  I got the blanket from the room closet and put it over you.”

                “Uh, thanks.”

                Jocelyn looked into my eyes.  “I mean, when you talked to me, you seemed like a pretty good guy.”  Before I could say something about that, but she went on with, “They were all, go up, follow him, see where he goes.”

                “They?  Your friends?”

                She chuckled.  “We’re all here for a wedding tomorrow…today, now, I guess.  You’re not here for the Sutton-Copperman wedding, are you?”

                “Uh, no, I’m just traveling.  Are you a bridesmaid?”

                “No, sister of the groom.”  She laughed.  I came without an escort.  They said they’d set me up with someone else, but I told them not to bother, I’d just attend.  Hey, would you like to be my escort?”

                I looked at her, looked at my suitcase on the counter.  Did I bring a suit with me?

                I must have said it aloud, because Jocelyn said, “There’s a blue suit in a garment bag hanging in the closet.”

                “Umm…yeah.”  Some of the fog started to lift from my brain.  I wondered if I had something to drink after all.  But I remembered I wore the suit, a wedding two weeks ago, and I took the suit when I went on my travels right after.

                Jocelyn seemed---well, interesting.  But I wasn’t used to finding almost-naked women in my arm like this.  I removed my arm from her shoulder and started to stand up.  Jocelyn stood up with me.  I said, “You seem like a nice girl, uh, Jocelyn.  But I don’t know anything about you, and you, you don’t know a thing about me.”

                She smiled.  “What would you like to know?”

                I put my hand to my head.  “What time is it?”

                “Just a little after six, I think.  The wedding isn’t till one, if that matters.”

                I shrugged and sat down again.  Jocelyn sat down with me and took my arm.  She was bold, I thought.

                She said, “There’s a small café down next to the pool.  We could eat there.”

                I hesitated, then said, all right.

#

                I let her wear a white bathrobe from my luggage.  The robe came down to her ankles.  She wore that over her bikini, and she already wore a pair of flip-flop sandals.  I put on a fresh pocket T-shirt and the pants I wore last night, sneakers but no socks.

                Jocelyn said the café would let anybody dine there for breakfast, whatever they were wearing.  Other swimsuit-wearers were at other tables.  Jocelyn didn’t mind wearing what she wore.

                I ate light, toast and butter, and a glass of orange juice.  Jocelyn ordered the same.  But breakfast evolved into an excuse to chat with her.

                Jocelyn Sutton, her name was.  Twenty-nine, master’s degree in math, but working as a clerk and accountant, and sometime secretary, in an office downtown.  Her family lived nearby.  One of four sisters and a brother.  The youngest sister, Patricia, was the one getting married.  Jocelyn was the oldest.

                I was all too conscious of having agreed to accompany Jocelyn.  Or had I?  As we talked, it seemed to be a settled matter.

                I told her about myself.  Timothy Deacon, age thirty-one.  Older brother, older sister.  Plenty of money from our family drycleaning businesses, but not enough to live on, just enough to make things comfortable.  I was between engineering studies and just traveling.  I had job offers I might take, since I wasn’t keen on leading an idle life.

                And if I found someone---I steered the conversation away from that as it started to come up.

                Jocelyn chuckled when I made wisecracks, and I did the same when she said something jokey.  We were just getting into an interest in old comedy sitcoms when I heard some laughter, past her shoulder, towards the café door.

                Jocelyn turned.  Two girls, dressed in black jeans and blouses.  Both blondes---looked like a pair of identical twins, though the blouses were different colors, rose and lavender.  One of them had just pointed at us, and both started to giggle.

                Jocelyn turned back towards me and sighed.  “My sisters.  Janie and Joan.”

                I said the first thing to pop into my head.  “The three of you had the same initials?”

                “I know.”

                “My brother Thomas and sister Teresa used to claim my mail,” I said.  We smiled at each other.  Seemed like a bond between us.

                Then Jocelyn said, “Pat and Junior escaped it.”  She looked back, then raised a hand and gestured for them to come over.

                They did.  They squeezed into the small booth Jocelyn and I sat in, one on each side of us.  It made the booth crowded.  I could see their family relationship with Jocelyn in their faces.

                But they did seem, well, more shaped like women than Jocelyn.  Curves, padding, larger breasts.  I looked at Jocelyn again and wondered if it bothered her.

                The Sutton sister next to me said, “You must be…Tim?”

                “Jes, Jamie,” Jocelyn said, “this is Tim.  You remember we met him at the pool last night.”

                The other one---Joan?---giggled.  Jamie said, “Did you sleep well?”

                Jocelyn looked embarrassed, a little redness on her cheeks.  Joan and Jamie kept giggling.  Jocelyn said, “As a matter of fact, I slept very well.”  Before they could say another word, Jocelyn said, “Tim has agreed to accompany me to the wedding and reception afterwards.  I won’t need you arranging an escort now.”

                They both got serious for a moment.  Joan said, “Mark and Pat just got in now.  They’ve gone up to their room.  Mom and Dad are here, too, and they wondered where you’d gotten to.”

                “And what did you tell them?” I asked.

                Jocelyn kicked me under the table.  It wasn’t a hard kick.  She looked like she put a little anger over her embarrassment.

                Janie said, “We just told them Jocelyn was around somewhere.  No sense in going into details.”

                They both started giggling again.  Jocelyn said, in a very serious tone, “The ceremony is still at one, right?”

                “Yeah,” Joan said.  “You’re lucky you don’t have to be one of the bridesmaids like us.”

                Janie said, “You can just be here for the ceremony and then out the door.”

                “Oh, I expect we’ll be here for the reception,” Jocelyn said.  She looked at me, and said, “At least the beginning of it, enough to greet the bride and groom.”

                I just smiled and nodded.

                They both slid out of the booth.  Janie said, “There are a million things to do.  We’ve got to go get dressed and made up.”

                Joan said, “We’ll be out of the room by ten, so you can change then.  Bye, now.”

                They both left.  I turned back to Jocelyn and said, “They seem…nice.”

                “They’re something of a pain,” Jocelyn replied.  “But, what the hell, they’re family.”

                “What was that about setting you up with someone?”

                Jocelyn looked disgusted.  “Oh, they would have paired me up with someone.  My parents’ friend’s son Vince, maybe.”  She made a face at the thought.  She didn’t like this Vince person, I guessed.

                “They have escorts of their own?”

                “Worse,” Jocelyn replied.  “Husbands.”

                I nodded, then glanced at my wristwatch.  It was now a little before eight.  “So…I guess that means we’ve got some time to kill.  Would you like to come back to my room and watch me put on my suit?”

                She chuckled and said, “No, not yet, I figure we don’t have to be anywhere till noon at the most.  We can stroll around and chat while we walk.”

                “Right.”  I signaled to the waiter.  He brought the check---it wasn’t much---and I signed it onto my hotel bill.

                As we walked away, I said, “You said you slept very well.  But, where?”

                She smiled.  “I think I’ll let you figure that out, Timothy.”

                I thought I would try.

#

                We didn’t stroll for long.  We ran into a few people Jocelyn knew.  She introduced me to them.  But, with a couple of couples, she had trouble remembering just who they were---old family friends and acquaintances of some relative or other.

                We wound up back in my room before nine.  Jocelyn held back at the elevator.  “Tell you what,” she said.  “My room is one floor up.  I’ll get my bag and we can both change here.  Five or ten minutes, tops.”

                The thought of her changing where I might see was a pleasant thought, though by then we had both seen a good deal of each other.  “All right,” I said.  “I’ll wait right here for you.”

                It was closer to nine-thirty when Jocelyn came back, not by the elevator, but by the stairs and door at the end of the hall.  She carried a small white hard case and had some other clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, slung over her arm, and carried a pair of sneakers as well.

                Jocelyn looked a little redfaced and a little angry.  “Is everything all right?”

                “Oh, my sisters are big kidders,” she said.

                I held out my hand and took her bag and the sneakers.  “Just you look upset.”

                “My sisters.  What they said.  They don’t know you.”

                I said, “You don’t know me, you just know the little I told you last night and this morning.”  I smiled.  “I don’t know you that well, either.”

                “Well,” she said, and smiled, and with it some of the anger at least disappeared.  “I like what I see."

                I kept smiling.  While I waited, I’d gone down and opened my door, but left it almost closed.  I opened the door with a shove and invited her in.  I put her suitcase down on the counter next to mine.  She flung her clothes over the counter chair, over some of mine.  I bent down and put her sneakers on the floor.

                “You travel light,” I said.

                “I wasn’t planning on being here more than the night before.”

                I said, with as much seriousness as I could summon up, “You aren’t planning to have some big scene with your family at this wedding, are you?”

                Jocelyn looked confused---I thought she looked adorable with that expression---and then held up her hands and crossed them back and forth in front of her, palms out.  “No, no, nothing like that.  My sisters like to tease me.  Just now.  It rubbed me the wrong way.”

                Then she leaned towards me.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Tim,” she said, “but, if someone asks you, if we did it last night, could you say we did?”

                “What?  But you didn’t---you said we didn’t.  Did we?”

                “You know and I know we didn’t.  But could you just say we did?”

                It seemed, well, a strange request.  I suppose I would have had sex with her if she had let me.  But saying so---  “Are you telling me someone in your family will come right up and ask if we had sex last night?”

                She blushed at that.  “No, not that, but could you, uh, imply that we did?”

                I ran through some thoughts about that, and after a couple of moments of thought, “I suppose I could do that.  All depends on how they---how I’m asked.  I’ll make the effort.”

                Jocelyn leaned and stretched as if to kiss me but seemed to retreat from the moment.  She smiled, then turned and opened her suitcase.  She pulled out a small white satchel, held it up, and said, “I’ve got to get ready.  You don’t mind me using your bathroom?”

                It wasn’t something I had thought of, but I suppose it was all part of what was going on.  “Go right ahead,” I said.  I rubbed my chin, and said, “I need to shave and shower, too.”  I ran my tongue around my mouth, and said, “I need to brush my teeth, too.”

                That produced another bright smile.  Something about how her face lit up---   She said, “Feel free to come in while I’m in there.”  She took off the robe and handed it to me.  “Nothing funny, now.”

                The bathroom was off the bedroom.  I noticed the bed covers weren’t mussed.  Wherever Jocelyn slept last night, it wasn’t in bed.

                I stripped back down to my underwear.  When I heard the water in the shower start to run, I went in.  Jocelyn stood in the shower under the water.  The translucent shower curtain didn’t conceal much---but, what with the bikini, I had seen it all.  The bikini itself was looped over the hand towel rack.

                Her bath kit bag was next to mine---I remembered putting it there last night.  I said, “I’m going to shave now.”

                “Thanks for the warning.”

                I went to the sink and turned the hot water faucet on.  When I did, Jocelyn gave out a little shriek.  “Problem?” I asked.

                “The hot water just turned cold for a moment.  Oh, there it is back.  Sorry.”

                I filled the sink with hot water, as I took my small travel can of shaving cream and my safety razor out.  It took about a minute or so.  I kept glancing over at Jocelyn in the shower.  She turned the water off, then peered around the edge of the shower curtain.  “Tim?  This may seem like an odd request, but…could I borrow your razor?”

                It seemed odd.  Kind of intimate.  Jocelyn went on, “It’s just that I’ve got more stubble on my legs than I expected---I mean, I shaved before I left, but didn’t bring anything---”

                “It’s all right.”  I rinsed my razor and handed it to her.  She reached out, one arm from behind the shower curtain, and took it.  Through the curtain, I could see her running my razor over her legs.

                I brushed my teeth and finished with that before she finished.  I said, “I’ll wait outside.  When you’re done, just rinse it off and put it on the counter.”

                “Whatever you say,” she said.

                It was just a minute or so after I came out that she came out.  Now she had a hotel white towel wrapped around her.  I smiled---in a way, she looked more interesting than when she wore the bikini, though she showed less skin.  She dried her hair with a smaller towel, and said, “Free, now.”

                It was just a matter of removing my underwear and a quick shower.  When I came out, wearing another towel, she had put on a dress.  The dress looked like a white sheet wrapped around her from below the shoulder to just below the knee.  Was there a little padding in the breast area? 

                If she was wearing makeup, I couldn’t tell.  I said, “You look great.”

                She twirled around, the skirt of the dress coming up and showing more knee and thigh.  “Thank you,” she said.  “Now it’s your turn.”

                I went back into the bathroom just to put my underwear on, but Joselyn helped with the rest.  After I tucked my bathroom kit into my suitcase, I picked out the wardrobe.  Undershirt, dress shirt, socks, pants, jacket, tie.  I appreciated her helping me straighten out the knot in my tie.  “Knotting ties is a skill I’ve never mastered.”

                “Well, you should look your best.  You haven’t done much tie-tying, have you?”

                I shook my head.  “Just on important occasions.  But I don’t go to many.”

                Jocelyn put her hand up and straightened out my hair---my hair was a little long---then put her hand to her own head.  “Is mine all right?”

                “Looks good.  Why do you wear it so short?”

                She chuckled.  “Long hair is a lot of maintenance.  One more thing my family doesn’t care for.”  Before I could say a thing about that, she said, “Shoes?”

                We both had shoes crammed in our luggage.  I had a pair of black dress shoes, shiny, but not polished.  I wore them about as often as I wore ties.  Jocelyn had a pair of half-Roman sandals, white, matching her dress, an inch or more of stiletto heels, straps coming half up her calves.

She and I sat together on the couch and struggled with our footwear.  “I didn’t bring many clothes,” she said.  “Just enough for the wedding.  I didn’t expect to stay long.”

                “And your bikini?”

                She flushed a little.  “My sisters wanted to go for a swim yesterday.  I bought it in the swimwear shop next to the pool.  I, uh, kind of bought it when they dared me to.”

                I saw the shop when I walked around last night.  “You knew the colors didn’t match, right?”

                “Just a kind of joke, I guess.  It was on the sales table.”

                We stood up.  I offered her my arm to help her up, and she smiled and accepted it.  She grabbed a tiny white purse out of her suitcase---except for some white panties, the suitcase was empty---then slipped her phone and a small wallet I had not noticed her carrying before.  “I’m ready,” she said.

                I glanced at my own phone as I slipped it into a suit pocket.  “Almost eleven.  I guess getting ready took longer than we thought.”

                She took my arm.  “I don’t feel much like waiting.  Let’s stroll around some more.”

                “As you wish, m’lady.”  She giggled, and we went to the door.

#

                Jocelyn was a little unsteady on her heels.  I took it to mean she didn’t wear heels that often, but I said nothing.  I kind of enjoyed having her lean on me for support.

                We took the elevator down to the lobby.  The crowd seemed large as we walked through.  “Any one you know?” I asked.

                “Well,” she said, “I don’t know my sister’s friends that well, but so far, no.”

                Just then there was a call from behind us.  A woman’s voice, calling, “Jocelyn!”

                Jocelyn tensed up---I could feel it.  “Problem?”

                “My parents,” she whispered.  “Play along.”

                An older gray-haired man, heavy and husky, wearing a tuxedo, held out his hand to me.  I shook it.  The woman, dark-haired and wearing a formal gown, held out her own hand.  I held it for a moment.  I noticed a strong resemblance Jocelyn and her mother, though her mother was older and heavier and a little shorter, plus longer hair.

                We exchanged pleasant talk in the way of introduction.  I got their names, Matthew and Melinda Sutton.  “Jocelyn, darling,” her mother said.  “The twins told me you found someone to escort you to the wedding.”

                “Oh, yes, mother.  This is Timothy Deacon, mother.  He agreed to be my escort.”

                “Timothy Deacon?”  Her mother spoke with a tone of suspicion.

                Jocelyn nudged me with her elbow.  I said, “Oh, yes,” and, choosing my words with care, “Once she asked me, I couldn’t say no.”

                We chatted.  I sensed they were grilling me for more information.  It was clear why Jocelyn had tensed up.

                The questions?  How long had I known Jocelyn?  Jocelyn answered that one, saying not long, but we felt a friendship bond right away.  (True.)  Where had we met?  I said I met her at the pool, and we chatted and learned a lot about each other.  (True, but I didn’t mention the short time frame, or the bikini, or her sneaking into my room.)  I filled them in on what I did and who I was, also knowing I was telling Jocelyn at the same time.

                It did not seem appropriate to say anything about what we had done last night.  Or not done.  Or maybe should have done.

                Her father impressed me as bluff and hearty, but her mother struck me as a little snooty.  Either way, they both grilled me.  I could sense Jocelyn getting more tense, her hands tightening on my arm.  It was clear the subject and the conversation drove her to distraction.

                When her parents started to ask about my intentions---and I wasn’t clear on them myself---Jocelyn cut in and said, “Look, Mom, Dad, there’s just a couple hours before the wedding.  Hadn’t we better go and find seats?”

                “Oh, I’m party of the ceremony,” her father said.  “Giving the bride away, all that.”

                “It is growing late now,” her mother added.  “I have to find Patricia and tell her a few things.”

                We nodded to them and broke loose.  They went one way and we went another.  When we were out of earshot, Jocelyn whispered to me, “Thanks, Tim.  That must have been hard.”

                “I did what I could,” I said, and sighed.  “It wasn’t easy.”  After a moment, I added, “Shouldn’t we be getting seats?”

                “There’s plenty of time for that,” Jocelyn replied.  “Let’s sit down and talk somewhere.”

#

                We found a couple of lounge chairs by the pool, out of splash range and almost out of sight from anybody else.  Jocelyn leveled with me.  “My parents are kind of upset about my not being married like my sisters.  I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

                “Wasn’t bad,” I said.  “Just skull sweat and picking and choosing my answers.”  I smiled.  “My mother, now, she would have told you all the trouble she went to have me.”

                “That bad.”

                “Parents can embarrass their children, any time, any place.”  We both laughed.

                But the laughter was cut off when we heard a shout of, “Jocelyn!”  It sounded like one of her sisters.  But when I turned, I saw it came from a fast-approaching older woman.  Long blonde hair and a Nineteen Sixties style dress.  Her face, but not her body, looked something like the rest of the family.  “Aunt Dora!” Jocelyn said and got to her feet.  I started to rise as Jocelyn did.

                “Jocelyn,” Aunt Dora said, “your sisters---well, there’s a mild emergency.  They want to see you.”

                Jocelyn glanced at me, then said, “All right.  Where are they?”

                “Follow me.”

                Jocelyn took a couple of steps, and I followed her, but Aunt Dora stopped and stepped between us---I almost bumped into her.  “Sir,” she said, “this is a family matter.”

                Jocelyn said, “Tim is my guest at this wedding.  If he doesn’t come with me---”

                “Oh, all right.”  She went ahead again.  “Follow me, both of you.”

#

                Aunt Dora led Jocelyn, with me behind, to a private room on the first floor.  Her two sisters, and a third girl who didn’t look like a member of the family, were there, dressed in fluffy-puffy pink bridesmaid dresses.

                The bride, Patricia, was there in an elaborate white wedding gown.  She had the family appearance, too.  But even with the gown, she had little resemblance to Jocelyn.  Where Jocelyn was thin, Patricia was heavier, and where Jocelyn was straight, Patricia was curved.

                Another woman, wearing jeans and sweatshirt, hovered around the bride, making sure the dress fit.  When Patricia saw Jocelyn and started to move, this woman said, “Stand still!”

                Patricia did.  “Jocelyn!” she said.  “It’s a disaster!  Marie Walton can’t make it!”

                “Who’s Marie Walton?” Jocelyn asked.

                “Patricia’s other bridesmaid,” Joan said.

                “We have three and we’re supposed to have four,” Janie added.

                “Can you sub for Marie?  We have the dress, we can pin you in it.”

                The sisters, Aunt Dora, and the other bridesmaid started to talk at once.  Jocelyn let them go for a few seconds, then held up her hands.  “Enough!” she said.  Then in a softer tone, she said, “I didn’t want to be a bridesmaid.  I specified that I would come if I weren’t a bridesmaid.  I hate formal weddings.  Can’t you do it with just three?”

                “No, it’s got to be four,” Patricia said.  “For the pictures.  We can’t get someone else on short notice.  Please, Jocelyn, please?”

                She wavered---I could see it in her face---and then said, “All right.  Okay.  Does Tim have to walk me down the aisle as a groomsman?”

                Before I could say I didn’t mind, Aunt Joan said, “We have the four groomsmen waiting in their tuxedos.  You’ll be with Vince.”

                “Vince?”  Jocelyn made a face.  “No.”

                They all started talking again.  It was difficult to follow, but I gathered that Vince was, first, here, and second, already in a matching tuxedo.  And, third, it would be rude to ask him to bow out and let someone else have the job.

                Janie said, “Jocelyn, you’re making a fuss over nothing, considering you met---”

                I could see where that was going, and so could Jocelyn, because she seemed about to flare up in a serious verbal explosion of anger.  Before she could, I stepped in and took Jocelyn by the arm.  “Ladies,” I said, “if I might have a private word with Jocelyn?”

                She was tense as I led her into a corner.  The others backed off.  I was afraid she would blow up at me for getting into this, but I knew I wanted to say what I had to say.  “Listen, Jocelyn, family is important.”

                “But---”

                “When I was starting college, my grandmother passed away.  It was exam week and I couldn’t attend because I had to stay for that.  It turned out it was the last big gathering of our relatives.  We’ve gone our separate ways and I haven’t seen many of them in years.”

                “You must see some of them.”

                “From time to time, but never together.  We don’t even have Thanksgiving and Christmas together anymore.”

                “But---”

                “We don’t know much about each other, Jocelyn, but I don’t want to be the cause of your blowing your relationship with your family.”

                She sniffed, and I thought she was about to cry.  What I said must have affected her.  I pulled a handkerchief out of my breast pocket---a clean handkerchief, put there for effect---and handed it to her.  I said, “I’m just saying your family is worth a little trouble.”

Jocelyn wiped the almost-tears from her eyes, and said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I can get by,” I replied.  “I’m sure I can find a seat.  We’ll meet up at the reception after.”

She nodded again, handed my handkerchief back to me, and went over to her sisters and aunt.  They were huddling around the bride.  In a voice I could hear, she said, “All right.  I’ll be your bridesmaid.  For the sake of the family.”

They all started hugging each other while making happy noises, and then the sisters dragged Jocelyn off to one side.  The woman in sweatshirt and jeans started measuring her.  I took that as my cue to step out.

#

                The Sutton-Copperman wedding was to take place in one of the large banquet rooms on the other side of the hotel.  I got there at about eleven fifty, ten of twelve.  A man was at the door.  He said, “I’m sorry, sir, but this wedding is by invitation.”

                “I’m with Jocelyn Sutton, the bride’s sister.”  I smiled.  “I, ah, don’t know if there was time to make arrangements.”

                The man consulted a clipboard list, running the tip of a pen along the names on it.  He tapped the pen on the clipboard and said, “Timothy Deacon, yes.  Is Ms. Sutton joining you?”

                “She’s a last-minute substitute for a missing bridesmaid.”

                He glanced at the clipboard again.  “Yes, that’s here too.  Go right in, Mr. Deacon.  Please take a seat on the bride’s side.”

                I nodded and went in.  Nobody else had come in, the room was empty except for the decorations.  I took the first seat on the aisle---Jocelyn would walk down it, and I wanted her to see me.  I made myself as comfortable as I could while I waited.

                I watched people filter in and find seats---I felt surprised at how some were dressed in casual clothes.  But most wore suits.

                I had time to think.  I tried to strip down the events of the last night and day down to their simplest components.  It was a surprise.  Here I was, alone, attending a wedding of total strangers, because a girl I met the night before had asked me.

                But Jocelyn---well, I smiled at the thought.  We talked, got comfortable---hell, we shared a bathroom and I even let her use my razor.  I had gotten to know her---and, I realized, I wanted to get to know her better.

                For now, though, I was stuck.

                I had forgotten my watch.  I could glance at my phone any time, but I didn’t want to dig it out of my pocket and make myself look like I was obsessed with either time or phone calls.  I had muted it before Jocelyn and I came down.

                But time went on, with or without a clock.  I saw Jocelyn’s mother led in and taken to a seat up front.  Somebody started playing organ music---Bach, I think---and heads started to turn.  The minister, a woman in religious robes, walked down the aisle, followed by someone who I assumed was the groom.  They took up positions on the raised platform almost-altar at the front of the room and turned and waited.

                Then the groomsmen and bridesmaids came in.  Jocelyn’s two sisters were with---their husbands, I assumed.  The one bridesmaid who was not a relative was with someone.  Jocelyn came last.  I noticed she wore her white sandals, while the others wore matching pink high-heel shoes.  The dress didn’t look like a good fit, either.

                Jocelyn was looking around the room---I realized she was looking for me.  She caught my eye, or I caught hers.  I raised my hand in a subtle wave and grinned.  She smiled back and seemed to relax.

                Had she been afraid I wouldn’t be there?

                The bridesmaids and groomsmen split up and lined up.  Jocelyn kept looking at me as the ceremony continued.  I kept smiling, and, once, raised my hands and gave her a thumbs-up gesture.

                I noticed her groomsman partner, a man about her height with dark hair and what looked like permanent five o’clock shadow---Vince?---caught her looking at me.  He looked, well, a little disgusted and angry.  I had gathered Jocelyn didn’t care much for him.  Did it mean anything?

                The music switched to “Lohengrin,” or “Here Comes the Bride.”  Some little girl was the flower girl, and after she went up the aisle Patricia followed, on the arm of her father.  They took their places.

                The ceremony was the standard “Dearly Beloved” text.  Even “obey” was included in the “love-honor-obey” part.  No reading of vows or any variation.  No objections were offered.

                Then came the “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” and there was scattered applause.  I felt a little choked up.  Whenever I went to a wedding, I always felt touched by it.  The bride and groom departed together, followed by the others.  It was a while before the rest of us started to leave.

#

                I went through the same routine at the reception door.  Most of the guests took seats, but I decided I would stand near the door and wait for Jocelyn to come in.  It was a long wait.  Some guests looked at me with curiosity, or some other emotion, but none spoke to me, they just looked away and found seats.

                After a long while they came out, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, along with the mother and father, and the bride and groom.  They must have known, or realized, who I was, but they looked at me with surprise.  One groomsman---Vince, again?---looked at me with what I took for distaste.  He walked with Jocelyn, but, I noticed, she did not hold onto his arm.

                Jocelyn saw me and broke away from the others.  To my surprise, she gave me a big hug.  The others stopped.  Jocelyn turned to them and said, “You go on ahead.  Let me talk to Tim.”

                She pulled me off to one side as the others went into the banquet room.  Vince was still looking daggers at me.   Jocelyn whispered, “I hope you haven’t been bored by all this.”

                “It was a beautiful ceremony,” I said.  “Are you glad you were there?”

                She smiled.  “I am.  Yes, come to think of it, I am glad I came.  I mean, I got some guff from my family about not being married.  I told them I hadn’t found the right man.”

                I thought I should steer the conversation from that---I still wanted to get to know her, but it was way too soon for that.  I said, “Jocelyn, I’m happy to have been here.  But you’ll be sitting up at the main table with your family and friends.  I thought of going back to my room and ordering room service for dinner."

                She chuckled, then grabbed my arm.  “Sounds good.  Let’s go.”  She pulled me along, a few steps before I got the idea and we walked along.  Her family was in the banquet room and it was just a matter of blowing by some late-arriving guests and wait staff.

#

                I had to help Jocelyn remove the pins that made that pink bridesmaid dress fit.  She wore the white tube dress under that dress, but she could slip out of that herself.  She unstrapped her sandals and then lay back on the bed, put her arms over her head, and sighed.  “It feels so good getting out of that outfit.  Both outfits.”

                I had tossed my own outfit onto a chair back---Jocelyn’s outfits were on the seat---and was down to my shorts and socks.  I sat down on an empty chair.  “I know what you mean.  I don’t dress up much, but when I do, I hate it.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  She sat up and started to fiddle with her bra, one of those strapless bras that fastened in the front.  Was there a little padding in the bra?  She saw me looking, then reddened a little, and then said, “Do you mind if I take this off?  It’s kind of uncomfortable.”

                “Just remember that I saw you in that bikini,” I said, smiling.  “That did not conceal as much as that bra does.  So long as you’re not embarrassed.”

                She smiled, a little weak smile, and unfastened her bra and pulled it to one side.  Her breasts jiggled as she fell back on the bed again---yes, her breasts were small, but they did jiggle.  “Thank you,” she said.

                After a few moments, I said, “Did you have a good time at the wedding?”

                “I, ah, I think so.  Yes.  Yes, I did.”  She sat up again.  “It was, well…it was good to see Patricia married.  You know, I thought my parents kind of threw Joan and Jamie at their future husbands, but Patricia, well, she found her man on her own.”

                “I hope it all works out for you.  Vince?”

                The look of distaste on Jocelyn’s face was greater than that same look on Vince’s face when he looked at me.  “Vince,” Jocelyn said.  “They’ve put him in front of me, on and off, since I was a teenager.  And he’s never so much as asked me on a date.  I mean, I have a closer relationship with, with…”

                She let that last sentence trail off.  I completed it, kind of.  “With me?”

                “Yeah, well, when you get down to it, yeah, I do feel close to you.”  Jocelyn looked down at herself, naked except for panties, and said, “Would I let you see me like this if I didn’t feel close to you?”

                “I did let you use my razor this morning,” I said.  “That’s close.”

                There was a knock on the door in the other room.  We ran out.  Jocelyn grabbed my robe, that she had worn before.  I looked down at my shorts and decided not to worry about what might be said.

                It was room service, all right.  I had the waiter put it down on the counter, pushing the suitcases to one side with my arm.  I tipped the waiter and he left.

                The meal was roasted boneless chicken breast, with sides of mashed potatoes and corn, and a side of green salad.  Jocelyn had let me pick out the meal, and I ordered the same for both of us.  We pulled up chairs opposite each other and sat at the counter and ate.

                I smiled and said, “I suppose this is kind of a date.”

                “Um, yesh,” she said, some salad in her mouth.  “I want to keep in touch with you.”

                I had finished my salad and was working on the chicken breast.  I said, “It depends on you, I think.  Now, my original plan was to stay here a week and sample the resort, ah, amenities.  Are you staying on?”

                She smiled and said, “I had planned to head home tomorrow.  A lot of my relatives are here for a while, and, well, I’d just as soon not run into them now.”

                “Right, then.  I could push on to the next hotel on my list, though I’d have to call and move my reservations up a notch.  Would you like to come with me?  One room or two?”

                “I would, yes.  One room.”  But before I could say anything more or say how my heart felt lighter at the thought of sharing a room with her, she spoke again.  “No, no, I’ve got to be back at work Tuesday morning.  I promised.”

                We were silent as we worked on our chicken with plastic utensils.  I had some time to think, and I reached a decision.  “I could drive you home and get a room somewhere nearby.”

                That seemed to throw her.  She put her plastic fork down, a piece of chicken still on it.  “You’re that serious about me?”

                “I’m serious about you.”

                Jocelyn blushed.  The blush ran down the skin, and I could see it through the robe she let hang open a little.  We ate in silence after that but spent our time looking at each other.  I had decided to do it.  It was a definite upping-of-the-ante in our brief relationship, but I felt I had to be somewhere near her.

                We finished at the same time.  Jocelyn took the dishes---room service came with plastic silverware but China plates---and put them in the sink in the kitchenette.  She said, “I’d like to get out of here before the reception breaks up.”

                I looked at the clock on the tiny oven / stove, off a few minutes but close enough.  It was now somewhere around four in the afternoon.  I asked Jocelyn, “How did you get here?”

                “Janie and Joan picked me up.”

                “Good.  I was afraid you had a car here.”

                “I could have driven.  It’s about forty miles.  If I had, we could have driven both.”

                I smiled.  “For the time being, I don’t want to leave your side.”

                She blushed again.

#

                It took ten minutes to pack, though we didn’t have much.  Jocelyn dressed in the T-shirt and jeans and sneakers she arrived in.  Her white dress and sandals went into her bag.  But she looked at the bridesmaid dress and said, “Maybe I should just leave it.”

                “We’ll put it in my garment bag,” I said.  “I’ll roll up my suit and stuff it in my suitcase.”

                “You’ll ruin your suit.”

                I chuckled and said, “I think it’ll survive.”

                I checked out by phone and left my room key on the counter.  I bent over to pick up my bags, then remembered something.  I ran into the bathroom and came out a moment later.  I had Jocelyn’s bikini in my hand.

                Jocelyn looked at it and said, “I don’t need that.”

                “You never know.  Anyway, the story of how you were wearing it when we met might be interesting to…someone, someday.”  Children came to mind, but I didn’t want to push that.

                She smiled.  Our cases were closed, but I stuffed the bikini into the back pocket of my pants.  Then I scooped up my bags and Jocelyn’s bags, too.  “Ready.”

                “We’ll take the back stairs.”

#

                Nobody was around in the parking lot.  My car was parked under a tree at the far end of the parking lot.  Jocelyn whistled when she saw my car---a white modern-day muscle car.  I said to her, “I swear, I just bought it to get from Point A to Point B.”

                “But it does it in style,” Jocelyn said.  “You didn’t buy it to pick up girls with, did you?”

                “No, but it’s been mentioned.  Would it have worked with you?”

                She laughed.

                I put our cases down, opened the trunk with the electronic key fob button, then put our cases in the trunk.  I went to the passenger door and opened it for Jocelyn to get in.

                Before she did, she said, “Before we go…”  Then she slipped her arms around me and kissed me.  It was warm and tender and meant a great deal to me.

                I don’t know how long it lasted.  When she and I let go of each other, I said, “We never did do it together.”

                “Maybe when we get where we’re going,” she replied, and climbed in.

                I went around to the driver’s side and got in.  We fastened our seatbelts.  I pressed the button and stepped on the brake pedal.  The engine turned over.

 We listened to the engine for a few moments.  I said, “Onward?”

                “Onward!” she said.

                I shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking spot, then shifted into drive and headed for the exit.  The future lay ahead of us.

#

                Jocelyn lived about forty miles away.  We left late enough in the afternoon for the sun to go down.  We headed east, back on the main highway, so the sun was at our backs.

                We talked, but I could see Jocelyn was nodding off.  She kept alert enough to watch traffic, but her conversation tended to lag.  I didn’t mind, realizing that that night before the wedding, when she was in my hotel room, she had not gotten much sleep.

                I did get Jocelyn to tell me she had spent the night sitting up in a chair, nodding off while sitting, waking up when she started to fall forward.  I told her to sleep, but she didn’t.

                I did try to tell her more about myself, as well as I could.  We were still kind of strangers.  I told her about my parents, once in the dry-cleaning business, but retired now.  I had worked my way through school, though my parents paid for most of it.  I left college with an engineering degree, and had job offers, but wanted to study.

                After a bump with debt in school, I tried to avoid it.  My student loans were paid off.

                “You too?” Jocelyn asked, the subject catching her interest.  “I didn’t go for further education because the cost put me off.”

                “I like the education,” I said, “but I like being debt-free better.”

                She nodded at that.  She told me she studied business administration but was working as a secretary right now.

                I had visited the town before, but, off the main roads, I was lost and Jocelyn had to guide me about which light to turn at and which road to take after that.

                We were deep in town when Jocelyn said, “There!” and pointed.  It appeared to be an apartment building---no, on second glance, it was an extended-stay hotel with a sign out front and everything.  I wondered if there were any vacancies.

                “Park there.”  Jocelyn pointed to a space next to a small yellow compact car.  “That’s mine,” she said.  “Not much, but it runs.  Had it since college.”

                I pulled in.  “Should I bring all the luggage in?”

                “Yours and mine both.  You’re staying with me.  Least I could do.”  She got a sudden look of surprise on her face, that faded into pleasure.  “Besides, that bridesmaid dress is in your garment bag.  I’ll have to hang it up.”

                So I collected all the luggage from the trunk and locked the car behind us.  I carried all the luggage inside as Jocelyn led me into the lobby.  A small and rather gray-haired woman, not so old, sat at the lobby desk, working the crossword puzzle on a page of the newspaper.  She looked up and said, “Jocelyn!  How was the wedding?”

                “Depressing,” Jocelyn said.  “I got roped into being a last-minute bridesmaid.”

They talked as if they were old friends.  The woman said, “Still, it all went well despite that.”  She looked me up and down.  “Who is…ah…?”

                I smiled at her.  Jocelyn touched my arm and said, “This is Tim.  Tim, this is Mrs. McVicar, who works the afternoon desk here most of the time.”  She slipped her arm in mine, despite my carrying luggage in my hand.

                Did Mrs. McVicar’s eyes widen just a little?  I felt a flush of embarrassment.  I started to speak, but Jocelyn tugged at my arm and led me away, down a short corridor towards the elevators.

                I said, “I was going to ask about vacancies.”

                Jocelyn pressed the elevator button.  “Right now, you’re staying with me.  What happened to that ‘never leave my side’ stuff?”

                “Every man sometimes needs a little solitude,” I replied, “and sometimes the toilet just isn’t enough.”

                She giggled and pulled me into the elevator as the doors opened.

#

                Jocelyn’s apartment was on the top floor, five floors up.  Room Five-Oh-Nine.  It proved to have a small kitchen and counter to the left, a shallow closet to the right, and a picture window straight ahead.  A small bathroom was visible through an open door between the closet and the window.  Just one room, with a large king-size bed up against the blank wall past the kitchen.  A TV on the wall opposite the bed.  Some furniture.  It was smaller than my hotel room at the resort.  I put the bags down next to the closet.

                “It’s not much, but I like it.”  Jocelyn pointed to the bed, which was unmade, the sheets coming up at the edges.  She kicked her sneakers off, then yawned and lay back on the bed and stretched out.  “Oh, I’d like to consummate our relationship, Tim, but I’m so tired.”

                “Don’t worry, I’m kind of done in myself.”  I stepped to the window, pulled the blinds back a little with my fingers, and looked out.  We were right above where our cars were parked.  I didn’t know anything about this neighborhood.  I hoped the cars would be all right, but the car was the one valuable thing in the car.

                The window faced east.  It was getting dark and streetlights had already come on.

                When I turned back, Jocelyn had fallen sound asleep.  She made a little snoring sound, more of a slight rasp, not happening with every breath.

                I said, “Jocelyn,” soft and quiet.  She didn’t notice or wake up, though I repeated her name several times.  I didn’t want to wake her.  I was tired, too.

                There was a padded armchair in a corner.  That would do, for now.  I pulled the covers over Jocelyn, taking care not to disturb her.  It wouldn’t do, I thought, to undress her. 

                I went to the armchair and sat down.  After I took my own sneakers off, I leaned back and clsed my eyes.

#

                I think we woke up about the same time.  I saw Jocelyn.  She looked around, a little confused, as if she wasn’t sure where she was.  But she saw me and must have remembered.  She smiled and relaxed.  It was early morning, and the sunlight shined through the blinds.

                Jocelyn sat up.  “It’s Monday morning.  I’ve got to go in to work.”

                The clock on the kitchen stove was way off.  I glanced at my phone.  “Just before six.”

                “Oh.  There’s plenty of time, then.  I don’t have to be there until ten.”  She slipped out of bed and got to her feet.  I stood up, too.  She looked at me, then said, “I gotta go.”

                “You do?”

                “I mean to the bathroom.”  I couldn’t recall the last time I went and couldn’t remember noticing if Jocelyn had gone.  She ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  I heard running water, which reminded me I had to go, too.  I rubbed my chin and thought I would need to shave as well.

                Jocelyn wasn’t in the bathroom for a long time, but by the time she came out I felt my bladder was about to burst.  I went in, and spent a little less time than she did, just enough to go and to wash my hands.  When I came out, I said, “What now?”

                “I’d suggest breakfast,” Jocelyn said, “but all I’ve got here is cereal and more cereal.  No milk, even.”

                “Anyplace nearby where I could buy you breakfast?”

                She smiled.  I loved it when she smiled at me.

#

                The place was small, a nook restaurant in a strip-mall plaza.  But it was a walk around the corner from Jocelyn’s apartment.  The breakfast food was pretty good, too.

                I managed to find clean clothes in my luggage.  I had a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt and clean socks and underwear.  But I was out of clean clothes after that and needed to do laundry sometime soon.  Jocelyn told me there were coin-operated machines in the basement.  My formalwear, suit and shirts, needed a dry-cleaning, but I spotted an in-an-hour place as we walked down to the café.

                Jocelyn dressed for work from her closet.  A tight pair of gray slacks and a white blouse.  She looked pretty good in them, to me at least.  I spent a lot of time looking at her as we sat together in the café booth.  She looked good to me, and I said so.

                She blushed and said, “Aw, the way you talk.”

                We didn’t say much else as we ate our bacon-eggs-toast.  It started to sink into me that I was getting deep in.  Was Jocelyn thinking the same thing?

                It was a short walk back.  As we stepped into the parking lot, Jocelyn glanced at her phone and said, “Might as well leave from here.  See you in the evening.”

                “I’ll be counting the hours and doing the laundry.”  I grinned at her.  “Anything you’d like washed?”

                “I, ah…I think I had better be there.  But you can do some of mine, I guess.  There’s a laundry basket in the bathroom.”  I nodded.  I saw it.  “Don’t wash my delicates.”

                Jocelyn rummaged in her purse---a bigger one than the small thing she carried back at the wedding, a good piece of leather goods---and pulled out a small blank business card.  She scribbled something on the card and handed it to me.  “Here’s the number and address for work, but don’t call unless you have to.  Oops!”  She grabbed the card out of my hand and scribbled something else.  “My cell phone number,” she said as she handed the card back.

                She then handed me a key.  “This is my spare room key.”

                “Yes, but---”

                “You’re staying here with me.”  She opened her car door---the old-fashioned kind of lock and key---and started to climb in, then stood up, and kissed me on the cheek.  I touched my cheek and smiled.

                She started the car, then backed out of her spot, and drove off.  I waved.  I could see her looking at me through the rear-view mirror, until the car disappeared behind some bushy trees.

                I looked at the key in my hand, then tossed the key into the air and caught it.  I slipped the key in my pocket and went inside.  There was much to do.

#

                Mr. Metzinger, the man on the front desk in the morning, had a note from Mrs. McVicar about me---I did not ask what it said.  But I learned there was room available on the top floor, the fifth floor, same floor as Jocelyn’s room, at the end of the hall.  It was larger, with a separate bedroom, but the amenities were the same.  Room Five-Two-One.  I took the room, sight unseen, on a six-month lease.

                After I moved my luggage down to the room, I went back and sorted out her laundry.  If I was settling in for a long stay---I thought I was---I wanted at least one clean pair of pants a day.  I picked up Jocelyn’s dirty laundry, piled mine on top of it, and went and found the laundry room.

                I left Jocelyn’s bridesmaid outfit hanging in her closet.  If she wanted it cleaned, I could take it to the dry cleaners with my suit, which I hung in my closet.

                It took about an hour and a half to wash and dry three separate loads of laundry, jeans, T-shirts, and whites.  There were five washers and five dryers, and a change-making machine to convert my dollars into quarters.

                The time I waited with the laundry gave me time to make a few phone calls.  Since my plans had changed---boy, had they changed!---I canceled several hotel reservations.  I had some boxes of clothing in storage, and I arranged to have them sent to this extended-stay hotel.

                Also, I knew some people and businesses in town.  I put out some feelers about jobs.  I had money, but I knew I’d need a job, to put some more short-term money in my pocket.

                Once I was back with the clean and dry laundry, I took it to Jocelyn’s room and sorted and folded it.  I made her bed---I thought of washing the sheets and hadn’t thought to ask if the hotel would provide clean linen on any regular basis.  I did some tidying up around the room, cleaned up the kitchen and bathroom, and washed some dirty dishes in the sink.

                When I heard the key in the lock, I stood up and waited.  When Jocelyn saw the cleaned-up apartment, clean dishes on a drying rack, clean laundry folded and on the bed, she clapped her hands together and smiled.  “When we met up, I didn’t think I was getting a domestic.”

                “I did have some time on my hands,” I replied.  “Before you get used to it, I’m looking for some work, so it won’t be for always.”

                Jocelyn looked around.  She saw the bridesmaid’s dress hanging in the closet, then looked below it, where I had put her piece of luggage.  “I, ah, don’t see your bags.”

                “I took a room down the hall.  It seemed the thing to do.”

                She half-smiled----disappointment?  But then she said, “Okay, Tim.  You rented your own room.  But you’re spending the night here.  In bed.  With me.”  She pointed at the bed and then at herself.

                It made me happy to think of that.

                Jocelyn then said, “You haven’t started dinner yet, have you?”

                “I could have cooked something, but I didn’t go shopping.  You know the town better than I do.  Any place you’d like to eat?”

#

                We wound up at the same hole-in-the-wall café we had breakfast in.  Neither of us ate lunch.  We dined on another round of boneless chicken, with potatoes-and-gravy and a veggie sampler.  A reasonable meal for a reasonable price.

                Jocelyn said, “I eat here when I can afford it, but my budget doesn’t stretch enough to make it an everyday thing.”

                “Breakfast and dinner,” I said.  “But what about lunch?”

                “I get a sandwich out of the machine at work.”

                “It’s no wonder you’re so thin,” I said.  “I’m paying tonight.”

                “I don’t want to get into that the-guy’s-gotta-pay situation.”

                “I can afford it, don’t worry.”  I paused, for effect, then added, “When I run out of money, then you can pay.”

                We both chuckled.  We might have discussed our finances and money right after that.  But just then her phone rang---one of those chime tunes that plagued cell phone use---and she glanced at the screen and said, “Oh.  Oh, God.”  She then touched the screen and put the phone to her ear and said, “Hello, mother.”

                I couldn’t make out the words from her mother’s end, but the tone seemed calm, maybe…resigned?  I could hear Jocelyn’s replies.  “No, mother, I’m not at the resort, I came home.  Yes, I know, but I didn’t have any reason to stay once the ceremony was over.  Besides…”

                Jocelyn listened to a lengthy monologue without saying a thing.  From her expression, she seemed to grow more unhappy.

                When the monologue wore down, Jocelyn said, “Yes, mother, I know, but I’m almost thirty now and I am living my own life.  I’m not interested in Vince.  I don’t care what he said.”  Then after her mother spoke again, a brief sentence, she looked startled, and said, “They told you.”

                After another comment, Jocelyn said, “Yes, I’m here with him now, we’re having dinner.”  Her mother said something, and Jocelyn tried to interrupt her, but her mother went on speaking.  “No, mother---mother---mother---I don’t want to talk to---”  Then, in a softer tone, she said, “Hello, Patricia.  Congratulations.”

                Patricia spoke in a higher pitched tone, but I still couldn’t make out a word.  Jocelyn said, “Yes, what?  It’s hanging in my closet.  She wants it back?  Why?  She didn’t wear it.”  She held her hand over the phone and said, “Marie Walton wants her dress back.”

                “I’m sorry,” I said.

                Jocelyn went on, “Yes, I’ll send it back, or on, or whatever.  Text me an address and I’ll ship it to her.  But not right now, sometime soon.”  After a moment, she added, “All right, Patricia.  Happy honeymoon and say goodbye to mother.”

                She disconnected, put the phone back, and sighed.  “Well, Tim, I love my family, but sometimes…well, you’ve met them.”

                I grinned and said, “Someday you’ll have to meet my family.  Think of that.”

                She seemed to cheer up some at that, and we got back to our dinner.

#

                I showed Jocelyn my room, not to different from her room except for the extra bedroom.  Then we walked back to her room down the corridor.  I stopped and reached into my pocket.  “Here,” I said when I handed it to her.  A room key.

                “For me?” Jocelyn said.

                “Fair’s fair,” I said.  “I have a key to your room, so you should have a key to my room.”

                “I’m reminding you again, you are spending the night here in my room.”  Her tone was firm.  We reached her door---though we had taken it slow, it still wasn’t a long walk---and she unlocked her door and let the door swing open.  “You first.”

                I went in.  Why would I expect any change?  We had been gone for about an hour, and the room looked the same as when we left.  Jocelyn faced me and started to unbutton her blouse.  “I’m going to take my clothes off and get into bed.  I expect you to do the same."

                “What about bathing?”

                “Maybe later.”  She smiled.

                She had gotten to the top button of her blouse just as I started to pull my shirt over my head.  But her phone rang.  I pulled my shirt down as she stopped and looked at the phone screen, and said, “Damn.”  She shook her head, looked around the room, then said, “Er, Tim, can I take this in the bathroom?  It’s kind of private.”

                “Ex boyfriend?” I asked, wondering, curous.

                “No, mother again.”  She went into the bathroom and closed the door.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my sneakers---new insoles, I reminded myself, first chance---then just waited.

                From where I sat, I could hear Jocelyn talking, but nothing on the other side.  It was muffled enough that I didn’t hear words.  Her tone was calm, reasonable.  I felt a little relief.  By now I was so into Jocelyn that I worried I might damage our relationship if I didn’t get on with her family---or maybe if I did.  But things seemed calm, at least as far as phone conversation went.

                Jocelyn came out.  While she had been in there, she had removed her blouse.  She stood a moment, glancing back at the bathroom, then said, “I’m beat.  It’s hard.  Hard.”

                “If you don’t want to continue---”

                “What?  No!”  She had forgotten for a moment, but now she remembered.  “Let’s go on.  But, well, just hold me for a while.”

                So we took off the rest of our clothes.  I saw everything I hadn’t seen when Jocelyn wore the bikini, and I don’t know how much of me she had seen before.  But nothing surprised me.  I could see she was a woman, maybe skinny and boyish in shape, but a woman.

                We ditched our gear on the counter.  I muted my phone and she did the same with her phone.  No awkward interruptions.  We climbed into bed from opposite sides.  She reached up to a switch and dimmed the lights---down, but not out.  I put my arm around her as she slipped up against me, her head against my shoulder.  It felt like some of the hair on her legs had grown in again.  Feeling it against my legs, it gave me a thrill.

                Jovelyn pulled the sheets up over us.  “I can see you’re ready,” she said.

                “My penis lives a life of its own,” I replied.  She chuckled but made no further move.

                After a bit, I sniffed, and said, “Should I wash these sheets tomorrow?”

                “You must get a new set from housekeeping.  You’ll be charged.”

                After a time, lights dimmed but still on, we still had not made a move.  “What time is it?” I asked.

                “About ten.  Plenty of time if you still want to make love to me.”  I felt her hand brush against my crotch under the sheets.  “You still want to.”

                Then she rolled over and then we lay, side by side, facing each other.  I moved and rolled over onto her, then said, “Should I be wearing a condom?”

                “Mood killer, you.”  She laughed and said, “I’m wearing a diaphragm.  Now, no more talk, get to it!”

                I did.  It was fantastic.  We went at it, several times.  I tried my damnedest to keep going, as long as I can.  I’m not sure how long I lasted.

                It wasn’t a matter of making love to just anybody---it was her.  I wanted to.  I wanted to keep going.

                Afterwards, we lay together, much as we had before, but now spent and exhausted.  “I don’t know quite how to put it,” Jocelyn said.  “But that sure worked for me.”

                “Me, too.  Maybe best ever.  No, no maybe, it was the best ever.”  After a moment, I added, “Do you want to try another go at it?”

                “Mmm…let’s save something for the rest of our lives, Tim.”  So we did.  Soon we were fast and well asleep.

#

                In the morning, Tuesday morning now, when Jocelyn came out of the shower, I noticed she was wearing my old bathrobe, that I had let her wear back at the hotel.  I’d forgotten about it, it must have been stuffed somewhere in her luggage.  It was now about six in the morning.  Early light came through the window blinds.

                “I left my clean clothes down in my room,” I said.

                “You’ll have to start leaving some here,” Jocelyn said.  She smiled.  “You left your shaving kit here.  Shave now, dress in your dirty clothes, go down to your room and shower.”

                I sniffed at myself.  “Yeah.  We had a pretty good workout last night, didn’t we?”

                “We sure did.  I’d have another one right now, but I’ve got to get to work.  Tonight again.”

                That made me smile again.  It felt good to be smiling.  I said, “Are you sure we didn’t get married sometime over the weekend?  It feels like we’re talking like a married couple.”

                “I don’t think my parents ever talked like this.”  She was smiling, too.  She had dropped the robe on the mussed-up bed and was putting her bra on.

                “Mine, neither.”  I picked up my dirty clothes and started to dress in them.  “Maybe it was some sitcom or other.”

#

                In the booth at the strip-mall restaurant, we spent a lot of time staring into each other’s eyes.  Jocelyn looked the same.  Same outfit, except that her top was light blue.  She worked as a clerk and accountant and secretary.  Maybe they had a dress code or something.

                The waitress, about our age, recognized both of us, and she already knew Jocelyn.  “You’re coming in more often,” the waitress---Marie, her tag read---said to Jocelyn.

                “I’m hungry and Tim is still paying.  Right, Tim?”

                I nodded.

                Marie asked, “This your boyfriend?”

                “I sure hope so,” Jocelyn replied.  She held her hand out over the table.  I took it.

                “Well, we have a discount program for regulars.  I’ll get cards for both of you.”

                After Marie took our orders and went away, I said, “I’ve got to find a gym.  I need to stay in shape.”

                “I’ve got a membership,” Jocelyn said, “but I skip sessions.  We’ll go tonight, if you want.  You were in great shape last night.”

                “I need to work at it to stay in great shape.  I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

                “Mmm.”  She smiled.  “I wish I could spend the day with you.  I don’t have another free day till Sunday.”

                “Working weekends?”

                “This Saturday, yes.  I promised to come in so I could…”  She frowned, and said, “So I could go off to my sister’s wedding for the whole weekend.”

                “Hard.”

                “I can manage.  Oh, and I’ve got to take that damned bridesmaid dress to the dry-cleaner before I send it back.”

                “The one in the plaza down the road?”

                “They’re all right.  I don’t have much to dry-clean.  You said your parents were in the dry-cleaning business?”

                I nodded.  “It’s more of a family thing.  I’ll take my suit and your dress there after you go to work.”

                “Works for me.”  Jocelyn giggled, and said, “Here we are, planning our domestic duties, and we just met a couple days ago.”

                “If you want, I could buy an engagement ring today and order some wedding rings.  Does this state have a waiting period?”

                “I’m not sure.”  After a moment, she shook her head.  “Tim, Tim, I love you but I’m not ready for marriage that soon.”

                “I love you, too, Jocelyn.”  It felt strange and good to say it.  We had talked of making love, but not of love itself.

                Marie came with our breakfast platters, eggs and home fries with a single slice of bacon.  She heard what we had said.  “Well, well, are congratulations in order?”

                “Just for being together.  We’re not going further, at least not that fast.”

                Marie smiled.  “Matter of time, then.”

                We ate and went back to looking into each other’s eyes.

#

                We separated in the parking lot again.  I had a good number of things to do.  I didn’t hear anything about my job search, no texts, no e-mails.  But my money was still good, so I picked up a few things right away.

                I took the bridesmaid dress and my suit to the dry cleaners.  They would be ready on Thursday.  The older manager knew, or seemed to know of, my family and their drycleaner business.

                Meanwhile I picked up a gym outfit and a gym bag, in case we decided to go.  Plus, a few other things.  And I stopped in one store to get something else.

#

                I waited for Jocelyn in her apartment.  I had put the gym outfit on, long loose-fitting plants and a loose shirt, and a sweatband around my head.  Jocelyn smiled at it.  “Very elegant,” she said.  “I’ll change and we’ll go.”

                Jocelyn slipped into the bathroom to change into her outfit, much the same as mine but a tank top.  She tugged at the loose and stretchy material and said, “If I was one of those big-breasted girls, I’d need a sports bra.”

                “You look fine just the way you are.  You look great.”  I slipped my arms around her and held her close.

                She seemed happy with that, but she said, “Then why go to the gym at all?”

                “Takes work to stay just the way you are.”  We broke out of our embrace, and I said, “Before we go…”

                I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small jewelry store box.  Jocelyn recognized it.  She said, “Tim, I said I wasn’t---”

                I dropped to my knees and opened the box.  Inside---it wasn’t a ring, but it was an elegant woman’s wristwatch.  Jocelyn took the box from me and said, “Tim, I don’t---I mean---I’m---uh…”

                “You don’t have to say anything.  I know you’re not ready for a proposal.  I’m just letting you know my intentions are---putting my money where my mouth is, I guess.”

                She held the box for a moment, looking at the watch, then at me, then at the watch.  Then she snapped the box lid closed and put her arms around me and kissed me.  “Tim, I love it!”

                I fell back a little and almost fell over.  “Glad of it,” I said.

#

                We worked out at the gym for more than an hour.  Most of the time we lifted weights, and we also walked treadmills side by side.  We drove to and from the gym in Jocelyn’s car---the first time I let her drive me around.  We snacked on some healthy nutrition bars between exercise bouts.

                It was after ten, very dark, when we got back to the hotel.  Mrs. McVicar was on duty again.  She smiled at us.  “You two are getting along well.”

                “That’s a good thing,” Jocelyn said, “because we are spending more time together.”

                Mrs. McVicar smiled.  “In your rooms, I gather.”

                “It’s comfortable and reasonable,” I said.  “Hey, I forgot to order clean sheets.  Jocelyn tells me we must ask.”

                “We’ll have a set for you in the morning.  Your room?”

                “Er, Jocelyn’s.”  I had not yet slept in my room.  I felt unease.  How much did I want to say to Mrs. McVicar, a stranger?  To tell the truth, I wanted to brag to people I knew.

                None were around.  I sort of giggled and we moved on to the elevators.  Jocelyn held onto my arm and snuggled close.  Then she sniffed and wrinkled her nose.  “Ew,” she said, a short syllable.  “I can smell your workout.”

                “As long as we’re bringing it up,” I said, “you could use a shower, too.”

                “Why don’t we adjourn to our separate rooms and clean up, then get back together after?”

                I had to agree.  If we showered together---well, getting cleaned up wouldn’t be on our minds.  There was plenty of time.  But as we got on the elevator, my stomach rumbled.  Those energy bars weren’t all that filling.

                Jocelyn must have felt it or sensed it.  She pulled her phone out.  “I’ll order a pizza,” she said.  “It’ll take thirty, forty minutes to get here, enough time to get clean.  They know me and know my card.”  She smiled.  “I can pay for this meal.  About time, too.”

                On the way up, we discussed what we liked as pizza toppings.  It was a brief discussion.  One pizza with everything had its place, but it was too much.  We settled on one medium-sized pizza, half pepperoni, half just cheese.  She called as she went in the door.

#

                I cleaned up in about ten minutes and put on a clean pair of pants and a clean shirt and clean underwear.  No socks, just slipping my feet into my sneakers.  I made a mental note to look for slippers, along with a new robe if Jocelyn kept mine, and maybe some fresh socks and underwear.  I knocked once on Jocelyn’s door, then let myself in with the key she gave me.

                Jocelyn was on the phone.  She said, “Gotta go, bye,” the moment she saw me, and disconnected.  She hadn’t yet changed.  She seemed annoyed.

                “Problem with the pizza?”

                “No, that was my mother.”  She sighed.  “She wants me---wants us---to come to dinner on Sunday.”

                “She wants me there?”  I thought for a moment, and said, “When you think about it, it’s obvious, sooner or later, that we’ll have to meet each other’s relatives.  Didn’t I meet your relatives at the wedding?  They seemed all right.”

                “Yeah.  They seemed all right.”  Jozelyn sighed again.

                “I mean, I’m not insisting you meet my family---it’ll happen, sooner or later.  But, for now, I’m willing to go to dinner with you and meet your family there.”

                “Dinner.”  She let out another sigh, then said, “Pizza.  Go down to the lobby, Tim.  They won’t bring the pizza up to the room.  Don’t tip them more than five dollars, though.”

                I got my wallet and pulled out five one-dollar bills---reminding myself to visit a bank or ATM and get some pocket change cash.  I leaned over and kissed Jocelyn on the cheek, then stuffed the in my pocket.

#

                It was more like forty minutes waiting.  I sat in the lobby and struck up a brief conversation with Mrs. McVicar.  I was a little uneasy about what to say, but, to my great relief, after a few question-hints from her and a few evasive answers from me, she left me alone with a gentle smile.

                I picked up the pizza and tipped the woman who brought it in with my five ones, then brought it up to Jocelyn’s room.

                Jocelyn sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her still-wet hair.  She wore my bathrobe again.  “If you like that robe so much,” I said, “you can have it.”

                She tugged at the robe lapels---I noticed she wore nothing under it---and said, “I don’t mean to deprive you.  It must be awkward to dress up every time you walk down from one room to another.  In the morning after.  Got any pajamas?”

                “I’ve got a couple sets in the clothes I’m having sent here…I think.  I don’t wear them often.”

                “Well, now, it’s my turn to buy something for you.  First chance.  You’ve spent a good deal on me and I should spend something on you.”

                “You paid for the pizza.”  I put the box down on the counter.  “We can discuss mutual finances after we eat.”

                We ate all but two slices of pizza, plain ones without pepperoni.  Jocelyn slipped the box onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.  There wasn’t much in it, just a few cans of soda and some milk and juice.  “Looks like I’ll have to shop for groceries.  Hadn’t occurred to me before.”

                “I’ll work up a list.  Fill your own fridge, too.”  She slipped off the robe.  “Right now, let’s go to bed.”

                I was still dressed in full.  “You’re not giving me a fair chance.”

                “Well, take it off, take it all off.  Come to bed.  I’m ready if you are.”

                I did.  By the time I climbed into bed next to her, she was drooping.  She leaned against me and closed her eyes.  No making love tonight, I thought, but I was having trouble keeping my eyes open by then…

#

                When I woke up, I wondered where I was before I remembered.  I was alone in bed.  I sat up and looked around.  The room lights were on.  Jocelyn sat in her---my---bathrobe, on the other side of the kitchen counter.  She hunched over, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

                She saw that I was awake and smiled.  “I’m taking you up on last night’s offer.  There’s a market down the street.  Pick up a few things after I leave for work.”

                I got out of bed and groaned.  I felt stiff---all the exercise last night, I guessed.  “Ouch!”

                “A little sore?”

                “A little.  No, a lot.”  I stretched some but still ached as I walked around the bed and towards her.  I looked at the list.  I could read upside down well enough.  Bread, milk, eggs, orange juice, tomato juice, some canned fruits and vegetables.  I said to her, “Any preference for brand names?”

                “No, store brands are fine.  Get what you want, though---fill your fridge, too.”  She chuckled.  “Tim, you’re making my life easier.”

                “Just remember I’ve got a few prospects, and if a good job comes along, I won’t have all this free time.”

                “Someday I’ll quit my job and have more time.”  Jocelyn looked at me, face all serious.  “Tim, I would never let myself be a drag on you.  I will always be doing something.”

                I walked around the counter and leaned over behind her to kiss her on the neck.  But then I yelped and jumped.  I was pretty sore.  I pointed to my neck.

                Jocelyn got up and put her hands on my neck.  She squeezed.  Damned if the sore muscles didn’t feel better.  She gave me a brief massage and then sat down again.  “With me, it was my leg.”  I started to bend down to rub the leg, but she said, “No, don’t.  It’s fine.  It’ll wear off.”

                “We could squeeze in a couple of exercise nights and we better get used to it.”  I smiled.  “In a while, I’ll be okay.  Sick day for you?”

                “No, I’ll keep up.”

                That seemed to settle that.  I ached, from the exercise.  And if Jocelyn did---  I said, “Sit down on the bed, and I’ll kneel at your feet and have a go massaging your leg.”

                “Calf,” Jocelyn said, but got up and went to the edge of the bed and sat down.

                I knelt as I said I would---I thought of proposing while I was on my knees, but I had agreed with Jocelyn that she wasn’t ready yet.  I rubbed her calf with both hands.  She said, “Ouch!” once, then seemed to enjoy it.  Then she stood up---

                We made love standing up.  It was so unexpected.  I hadn’t dressed and she just had my old robe, so it was easy.  It didn’t last even a tenth as long as our first session, but it was great.

                Afterwards, we sat down on the bed, Jocelyn in my lap, both of us breathing hard.  When we could manage to talk again, Jocelyn said, “Thanks.”

                “You’re welcome.  And thank you, too.”  I had deflated a little, but I said, ‘Care to have another go at it, in bed this time?”

                “No, I’ve got to get ready.  Work, you know.”  She glanced at the stove clock, seemed to do a little adding-up in her head to get the correct time, then said, “I think we’ll have to skip breakfast this morning…unless…”   She got up off my lap and went to the refrigerator and pulled the pizza box out.  She opened it and said, “One slice each?  Microwave?”

                We ate the pizza slices cold.  Pizza, cold or hot, wasn’t one of my favorite things, but I enjoyed eating it with Jocelyn.  Jocelyn cleaned up, folding the pizza box and shoving it in a small trash can under the kitchen sink.  “When’s garbage pickup?”

                “Friday,” Jocelyn said, “unless you arranged for maid service.”

                “I’m your maid,” I said, but I couldn’t remember if I’d arranged for maid service for my own room.  I was sure she had not.

                Jocelyn moved on.  “I’m going to trust you to do all my laundry right now.  But be careful.  Machine wash the delicates but hang them up to dry.  There’s a clothesline in my bathroom.”

                “I, ah, think there’s one in mine, too.  Which ones are the delicates?”

                “Check the label.”  Jocelyn leaned in and kissed me.  “At least I feel limbered up now.”

                I stretched my arms.  “Me, too, come to think of it.”

                “One good thing, then.”  Jocelyn smiled.  “Let’s get going.  We can bid farewell to each other in the parking lot.”

#

                Mr. Metzinger explained what I hadn’t taken in.  No, my room didn’t have maid service, did I want it?  (No.)  Garbage was my responsibility.  There was a chute near the elevators.  Jocelyn’s fresh linen, at my expense, was ready, and there was another chute for the dirty sheets and towels.

                Also, two boxes had come for me, first thing in the morning.  I thanked him, told him I was expecting more boxes, and took the boxes and the linen up to my room.  The boxes were large, but light and easy to carry.

                The boxes held some of my clothes, not all, but some.  Pants, dress and casual, and a couple pairs of jeans, in one box, and socks and underwear in the other.  My casual shirts hadn’t yet come---and to my delight, I found two sets of blue silk pajamas in with my socks and underwear.  No more worry about what to wear while walking down between our rooms.  I figured the rest would catch up with me later, and in the meantime, I could make do.

                I gathered up the dirty clothes I hadn’t washed before.  Jocelyn had a couple of silk nightgowns.  I thought they were a little dusty, maybe not dirty.  I thought, too, I had better check before I washed them.

                I managed to take care of Jocelyn’s “delicates,” and strung them out on my laundry line, where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.  That took care of my morning.  In the afternoon, I did some shopping.  I found a discount clothes store where I bought a cloth bathrobe and slippers.  Then I did the grocery shopping, Jocelyn’s and my own.

                I got back as it started to get dark.

#

                The evening wore on, and Jocelyn didn’t show.  When the last trace of light in the window was gone, I started to wonder where she was.  I kept looking out the window, to see if her car pulled up next to mine.  I kept busy by changing the sheets on Jocelyn’s bed and putting the clean sheets on.

                It was then that Jocelyn’s room phone rang.  I had not given it much thought.  I had my own phone.  I picked it up and said, “Hello?”

                “Hello, Mr. Deacon.”  It was Mrs. McVicar from the desk downstairs.  “Jocelyn gave me a message to pass to you.  She’ll be working late and you should go out and eat something yourself.”

                I hadn’t eaten more than another energy bar for lunch.  “I wonder why she didn’t call me,” I said.

                “Well, first,” Mrs. McVicar said, “personal calls on the house phone are a dollar for the first minute and fifty cents for every minute after---but you can have anybody leave a message at the front desk.”  I heard her chuckle.  “She’s a dear, but she doesn’t want to run up her bill.”

                “Thank you,” I said.  “First?”

                “Yes, first.  The second thing is, she told me that the two of you had exchanged a lot of information, and that she had given you her cell phone number, but she couldn’t remember if you had given her yours.”

                “Oh.”  Had I?  I should have.  I said, “Thank you, ma’am.  I’ll call her.”

                “She said not to, she’ll be busy.  You have the clean sheets you ordered for her bed?”

                “Yes.  I was just putting them on.”

                “You know where to put the dirty sheets, Mr. Deacon?”

                “The chute down by the elevators.”

                “The one marked ‘LAUNDRY.’”  She chuckled.  “Have a nice night.”

                I finished with the bed, then scooped up the dirty linen and carried it out the door and down the hall.

#

                I must have fallen asleep, sitting up in her chair, because I woke up when Jocelyn slipped her arms around me from behind.  “Ooh, silk!” she said, rubbing her hand on the pajamas I wore.  “I like it.  I’ll slip into a silk nightgown, and we can rub them together.”

                I looked up at her and smiled.  “You’re very chipper for someone who had to work late.”

                “Worth it for the overtime, Tim.  I may do it tomorrow again.  I can use the money to treat you to…something.  I’ll think of something.”  She let me go and said, “Did you have any dinner?  I’m hungry.  Did you shop?”

                “Yes and yes,” I said.  “I ate, too, and there’s a chicken breast and sides in the oven with your name on it.  The other one is mine.”  I got two takeout chicken dinners at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.  I was hungry but decided not to eat till she got home.

                “A romantic dinner for two, late at night.”

                I glanced at the clock.  It wasn’t that late, a little after nine.  I pulled the dinners out of the oven and put them on the counter.  Maybe the chicken had dried out a little, but the vegetables were fine.  It was okay to eat.

                Jocelyn said, “Ooh, you feed me well.  I’ll have to start a diet.”

                “We could schedule more exercise.”

                “Er…let’s worry about that next week.  Look, first chance I get, I want to cook you a meal.  I want you to know, I can cook.  I’m a good cook, if I don’t get distracted.”

                “I can cook, too, you know.  Maybe we can cook together.”

                “Be crowding the kitchen.  Yours isn’t any bigger than mine.”  She looked past me, into the kitchen---we sat opposite each other---and looked back at me and said, “Maybe next week I’ll get a fine slice of beef and a bunch of sides.  Soon as a weekend opens, not this weekend.”

                “Not this weekend.”  I let a pause grow for a moment, then said, “We are still going through with your family dinner?”

                “Yeah…yeah.”  Seemed Jocelyn was a little out of it.  “I want them to meet you, more than they did at the wedding.”  She sighed.  “I suppose they’ll be there, oh, except Patricia and her husband, who must be off on their honeymoon now.”  Then she said, “Let’s not talk about that.”

                We ate a few bites in silence, but then Jocelyn said, “Where did you get those pajamas and that bathrobe?”

                “You like them?”

                “Didn’t I say so?”

                I pulled my robe open a little.  “Well, a couple boxes of my clothes came today.  I’ve had these pajamas for years, but don’t wear them that often.  Couple of sets.”

                “You sleep in the nude?”

                “Well, I did.”  I fingered the lapel of my robe and said, “The robe and slippers, I bought down the street.  You like my old robe.”

                “Wish I was wearing it right now.”  She still had on her blouse and slacks that she wore to work.  She had taken off her sneakers.  Then she said, “You washed my blouses?”

                “They’re drying in my room down the hall.  Should be dry by tomorrow.”

                “Good, because I think I need one to wear.  You can get them in the morning, because you’re spending the night here, no argument about it.”

                “I wasn’t about to argue.  Oh, and I need to give you my phone number.”

                Jocelyn nodded.  We got our phones---we had just finished eating---and spent a little time putting each other’s number on our speed dial features.  Then I cleaned up our plates and utensils while Jocelyn cleaned up herself in the bathroom.

                She did come out wearing one of her red silk nightgowns.  She looked pretty good in it, and as she swirled around so I could get a good look at her in it, she said, “Little dirty, but all right.”

                “I wondered about washing them---”

                “Drycleaners.  Drop ‘em off when you pick up your suit and my, er, Patricia’s friend’s dress.”  She came up to me and caught me in a clench.  “Enough about that.  Let’s go to bed and cuddle up together and then see what happens.”

                So we climbed into the bed, getting between the clean sheets.  I leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, then swung back to turn off the bedside lamp.  “’Night, dear,” I said as the light went out and I rolled back over onto my back.

                Jocelyn nudged me in the ribs.  “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Tim.”

                “I do?  It’s starting to seem like we’re an old married couple.”

                “Old married couples must do it, too.  Start by kissing me, and then we’ll see how it goes from that.”

                So I rolled back over onto her and kissed her with as much passion as I could come up with.  I lost track of time.

#

                The next morning, I went down to my room, got her now-dry blouses, folded them, and brought them back to her room.  Jocelyn was still in the bathroom when I got back, but the door was open.  “You’re a lifesaver, Tim,” she said.  “A regular domestic.”

                I smiled at that, a little wryness in it.  “If I hadn’t been taking up your time,” I said, “I’m sure you would have done your own laundry by now.”

                “Ee-yup,” Jocelyn said, “would have done it Monday morning.”  She had put on everything but a blouse.  She took the top blouse, a light green one, from the pile I put on the edge of her bed.  She slipped it on and buttoned it up.

                I smiled again, more warmth.  “You look sexy, putting clothes on like that.”

                “And to think we met because I wore that micro bikini.”  She chuckled.  “Breakfast on me today.”

#

                We sat in the same booth.  Eggs and toast.  “It’s starting to seem like our place,” Jocelyn said.

                “Long as we have the time, Jocelyn.”

                “And the money.”  As she put the cash in the check wallet, a twenty and a five, which covered a generous tip, she said, “I will cook for you.  This I swear.”

                “You’ll have to try my cooking, too.”

#

                As we walked back, arm in arm, to the hotel parking lot, Jocelyn asked me, “What are your plans today?”

                “Well,” I said, thinking through things, “if more of my boxes come in, I’ll unpack them.  Our stuff at the drycleaners should be ready, so I’ll pick that up, too.  Nothing much else unless I think of something.”

                “Get our night clothes washed, if you can.  They’re kind of, well, kind of grungy from making out wearing them.”

                “I’ll drop them all at the drycleaners when I pick up my suit and the dress.”  I shrugged.  “I just don’t have the technique to wash silk in a machine or by hand, so the drycleaners it is.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  “We’re already acting like a married couple.”

                “You give the orders,” I said, “and I’ll obey them.”  I leaned forward and said, in a low voice, “There’s nobody I’d rather take orders from than you.”

                But I thought of something as I finished saying that.  I leaned back.  “Oh, one more thing.  If any of my contacts contact me about a job, I’ll follow that up.  But I’ll pick up the drycleaning first.”

                “Good.”  We got up, leaving the check wallet behind.

#

                A couple more boxes of clothes were delivered.  I took the boxes to my room and unpacked them.  Then I took the pajamas to the drycleaners and brought back the bridesmaid dress and my suit.

                It might have been a dull day, but I checked my texts and found a job offer.  An old friend, a college buddy once upon a time, wanted to hire me as a design troubleshooter in the firm he worked for in personnel.  Bert Gilligan.  I knew him pretty well from college.  He was the kind of guy you just had to refer to by both names, rather than the first or last.  He was surprised I was looking for job here, but he had one.  I put on my now-clean suit and went down to see him.

                It was a pretty good salary and benefits, all things considered, and I could start in two weeks.  I did tell Bert I had several inquiries around, but I thought I liked his offer.  I gave him a tentative acceptance, and I’d let him know for sure early Monday.

                Bert Gilligan gave me a rundown of the problems I’d face, and a brief tour of their offices.  I also told him why I was here in town, which seemed to amuse him.  “So the mighty bachelor tree that is Timothy Deacon has been cut down!”  He gave me a big grin.  “I can’t wait to pass this on!”

                Bert Gilligan was also the kind of guy who liked to phrase things in an odd and sometimes salacious way.  “Well, I am serious about this, but who knows?  That’s why I’ll tell you Monday.  Just keep it under wraps until then, at least, please.”

                “I’d like to meet the little woman,” Bert said.  That was the way he talked.  “We’ll have to get together whether you take the job or not.”  Bert was engaged, I knew.

                “We’ll have to see.  I’ll have to talk it over with Jocelyn and see.”

                “Dinner with friends…it’s quite a step.”

                I didn’t get back to the hotel until it was dark.  Jocelyn’s car was in the hotel parking lot.  I couldn’t pull in next to her car, there were cars already there.  So I parked two cars down and got up out of the car and looked up.  I could see the curtain of Jocelyn’s room flutter---was she watching?

                I got up to Jocelyn’s room as fast as I could.  The first thing I said was, “I didn’t get a chance to call.  I was off on a job interview, and we ran a little late.”  I took her into my arms and hugged and kissed her.  “I’m sorry.”

                “Bound to happen, Tim.  Is it a good offer?”

                “I think it’s good.  I’ll take it unless something very good comes along.”  I smiled at her and let her go.  “The personnel director is an old friend.  Bert Gilligan.  Wants us to have dinner with him and his girlfriend some time.”

                “Sometime.  Let’s see how you do with dinner with my family first.”  Now it was her turn to put her arms around me and give me a kiss.  “I started to worry.  I worried you yesterday.”

                “Well, some, but I got a message.  Didn’t get a chance to call you.”  After I let a pause fill the space, I said, “You didn’t work late.”

                “A little, but I finished up the job.  Let’s get something to eat.  I’m starved.”

                It was just after seven.  “Is, uh, our place, still open?”

                “Till nine, I think.  But we’ve got to start eating at home.  I need to watch my diet.”

                She was skinny as could be without looking like a starvation victim, I thought.  “Maybe we could get a salad with our meal.”

                “Some fruits and vegetables would be nice.  Can you pick up some sliced melon at the market?”

                “Anything you want.  You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “Not as far as I know.

#

                We ate at “our place” again, me in my suit and Jocelyn in her blouse and slacks.  “I feel overdressed,” I said.

                “You look good in that suit,” Jocelyn replied.  “But I like you fine with no clothes at all.”

                For some reason, that didn’t sink in right away.  I was looking over the menu when I “got it.”  Then I laughed, a hearty laugh.  Jocelyn laughed, too, and as the laughter died down, I said, “I’m sorry, I thought I was faster about things like that.”

                “What’s a little sexual innuendo between us now?  We’ve done it---we will again.  I think we can keep up with each other.”  Jocelyn smiled.  “See?”

                I nodded.  Jocelyn chuckled and said, “As for that ‘no clothes’ part, well, let’s just say I’m glad I stayed in shape.  I would have hated for you to think I was some kind of slob.”

                “Same here.  I let exercise slide while I traveled, but, well…”  I leaned back.  “I guess I’m settling down.  We can go together, if we can manage it.”  I felt a twinge in my leg, and added, “But not till sometime next week.”

                “We’ve got enough on our plates for right now.  Speaking of which…”  We turned our attention back to the menus.  We settled on some thin steak fillets, and side salads.  They were good.

#

                Back at the hotel, we went to our respective rooms to wash up.  I came back wearing my other set of blue silk pajamas and my robe.  I found Jocelyn wearing my old bathrobe, but nothing else.  “We could go to bed right now,” Jocelyn said.  “Save ourselves the trouble.”

                “I suppose.  We are going at it, aren’t we?”

                “We can neglect it later.  Meanwhile, climb in, and we’ll watch TV together.”

                I blinked.  “There’s a TV in here?”  There was a flat TV screen mounted on the wall where we could watch it from the bed.  I said, “I hadn’t noticed it before.”  I don’t know why---I mean, most hotel rooms had a TV.

                “I haven’t turned the TV on since I got back here with you,” Jocelyn said.  “I’ve been, ah, busy.”

                She took off the robe and climbed into bed.  I took off my robe and started to unbutton my pajama top.  She lay on her side, elbow crooked, hand against her head, watching me.  “I should put on some music.”

                “I’m self-conscious enough as it is,” I said.  My pajama pants came down and I slipped into bed.  We kissed and then started in.

                After that finished up---I wasn’t sure how long it lasted, I was just trying to keep up as long as I could---Jocelyn said, “I suppose we could talk about things.”  She traced lines on my chest with her fingernail.  “Anything on your mind?  Say the first thing you think of.”

                “I love you,” I said.  “I want to marry you.”

                “Look, Tim, we’ve known each other for five days.”

                I shrugged.  “You did ask me to say the first thing I thought of.”

                She put her ear to my chest.  “Well, I love you, but I want to take it slow.  Slower.  Let’s see how we feel after you’ve had dinner with my family.”

                “We can go and get married after dinner.  Is there a waiting period in this state?  I haven’t checked.”

                “I don’t know, either.  We’ll check after dinner Sunday.”  She tensed up.  “We’re rushing things.  We’ll check, but don’t order any rings yet.  And don’t propose.  Not till I tell you.”

                I thought about that.  I said, “When I said I love you and I want to marry you, that was a proposal.”

                She chuckled and hugged me tight.

#

                I had bought enough groceries to whip up breakfast.  Some eggs-bacon-and-toast, along with some orange juice and milk.  Jocelyn said, “They’ll miss us at the restaurant.”

                “We’ll eat there tonight,” I replied.  “Unless you’re up for two breakfasts.”

                “Not me,” she said, as she put a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.  “Mmm, this is good.  I couldn’t eat more.  It’s a generous breakfast.”

                I had to agree.  Four scrambled eggs, six slices of microwaved bacon, four slices of toast, all the butter anyone could want…  “More than enough,” I said.  “Lots of calories.”

                Jocelyn was all dressed and ready to go.  She kissed me on the cheek.  “Bye, dear,” she said.  “You don’t have to take me down to the car.”

                “I’ll watch from the window, then.”

                So I did.  Jocelyn looked up and waved as she climbed into her car.  I watched until she was out in traffic.

                The rest of my parcels had come in, the last of my clothes and the basics of my computer workstation.  I was able to get a small folding table, courtesy of the hotel and Mr. Metzinger, and set up my laptop on that.  A temporary arrangement---and anything more permanent depended on so many different things involving Jocelyn.

                I washed the plates and disposed of the garbage.  After that, though, I had time on my hands.  No need to go out.  I stretched out on the bed in my room, not crawling under the covers but just lying down on the bedspread.  I spent the time thinking.

                I had found the girl of my dreams.  Or at least I thought I had found her.  We met in a cute way.  Seeing her in that three-colored micro-bikini left nothing to the imagination, and gave me the courage to talk to her.  That led to her following me up and seeing me drop my room card.

                I had been involved in a family wedding.  We had “gone back to her place” and, for all practical purposes, moved in with each other.  The sex was great.

                But she was uneasy about going too fast.  So was I.  But I couldn’t help it.  Like I told her, I wanted to marry her.  More than anything I had ever wanted.  But was it too soon?  She worried about her family and their reaction to me.  Could that make everything go bad?

                Maybe we should consider staying away from each other for a while.

                The thought hung in my head.  Not being busy is sometimes a dreadful experience.  Too much time to think.

#

                I must have fallen asleep without realizing it.  I awoke to find Jocelyn climbing onto the bed next to me.  “First time you weren’t down in my room,” she said.  “But your car is still in the lot.”

                “Oh.”  I looked away from her, up at the ceiling.  “I was just thinking.  Lying here thinking.”

                “You look a little down.”

                I gave her a brief outline of how my thoughts had fallen out, ending with the idea that we should spend some time apart.  Jocelyn stayed calm, adding just a few thoughts about how some of it fitted in with her own thoughts.  “You might have a point,” she said.  “But I am telling you, you won’t lose me even if you go away for a bit of ‘me time.’”  She waved her arm around the room.  “You’ve taken a lease.  And I’m not giving up my room.  So even if we don’t hang out together, we’ll see each other.”

                “Hmm.”  That reminded me of something else.  “I haven’t asked, but is there anybody else on this floor?”

                “I don’t think there’s anybody long-term, maybe down at the other end of the hall.  There are plenty on the lower floors.  But this place does fill up on the weekends.  You’ll see.”

                “We’ll be gone Sunday.”

                “Just in the morning and back in the evening.  Have you heard anything more on the job front?  That’ll take you away.”

                I checked my phone messages from time to time.  “One definite no.  Nothing from the others.  There’s Bert Gilligan’s offer.  Anyway, my roving days are over.”

                “Well, when we take a belated honeymoon, we can roam then.  We’re young, and there’s time to see the world.

                No engagement or marriage, but honeymoon planning.  I decided not to say anything about that.  But I chuckled and said, “I’ve always had an urge to look into some of those tourist trap limestone caves you find up and down the East Coast.  Haven’t ever gotten around to it.”

                “That’s very good,” Jocelyn said.  “Maybe.”

                “What about you, Jocelyn?  Where would you want to visit?”

                “Well…”  Jocelyn hesitated, as if I were squeezing the information out of her.  “I’ve always wanted to visit a few Civil War battlefields.”

                “Mmm.  I visited Gettysburg one.”  I held my tongue for a moment, as some memories came back.  “I felt it was kind of haunted, what with everything that happened there.”  After another hesitation, I added, “I didn’t know you were a Civil War buff.”

                “I’ve got a shelf of books back home---back at my parents’ house, I mean.  Just a subject that caught my interest.  I’ve learned a lot of history.”

                I thought I knew a lot of history, too.  I was no expert, but I had plowed through several shelves at the library.  My small book collection---paperbacks, most of them---were still in storage and even at this hotel I didn’t have room to keep them.

                Jocelyn went on.  “I suppose I could go into a cold and damp cave if you were with me.  I hope you can take the ghosts of soldiers on battlefields.”

                “You might have something.”

                “How do you feel about horror movies?”

                I nodded and said, “I’ve seen a fair share, but they’re not part of my diet.  I guess I like the classics.”

                “Me, too.  Even with horror movies.  I’ll take a Hitchcock movie over any gory splatter movie playing at the multiplex right now.”

                “Yeah, me, too, but I don’t go to the movies much.”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “We can watch them on television.  The cable here is an excellent selection.”

                “All right.  We’ll watch some later.”

                I ran over our plans.  Had we decided on anything?  “Let me lay it out.  We stick together from now till dinner with your family.  After that---do you want to separate for a week or so right after?  I don’t much like the idea.”

                “I think we’ll need a little time to ourselves after that.”  Jocelyn smiled again---she was a frequent smiler, with an occasional chuckle or out-and-out laugh.  The smiles lasted just a short time, but they lit up her face.  I was coming to appreciate them every time.

                Jocelyn added, “Unless Sunday night things look so different that we do something else.”

                “Right.”  I had a good idea of what “something else” might involve, and I think Jocelyn did, too.  I said, “We seem to be falling into the assumption that we will be together.”

                “How so, Tim?”

                “Talking about a belated honeymoon, for one.  A honeymoon follows marriage.  Doesn’t it?”

                “I guess it does.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “Okay.  All right.  Call me your fiancé, and I’ll call you my intended.  But, uh, don’t bring this up with my family, because it will just mean more questions.  You’re my date.  That will discourage them from fixing me up with someone else…I hope.”

                I grimaced.  “Is it that bad?”

                “My mother will not let drop that my sisters, my younger sisters, are now all married.”

                “Mmm-hmm.”  I let the thought sink in, but then said, “We could lie to them and say we got married six or seven years ago.”

                “You beast!” Jocelyn said and punched me in the ribs---a gentle punch.  She laughed and then sighed and said, “Ah, they would never fall for that, but it’s a pretty good idea.  Besides, I’m sure Janie and Joan have told them about how we met---don’t bring that up, either.”

                Jocelyn snuggled up next to me.  It felt good.  “Let’s take a nap before we go out to eat.”

                So we stopped talking and tried to sleep.

#

                We must have napped well, because when we woke up, about the same time, sunlight came in through the cracks in the closed blinds.  We were in much the same positions as we had been in when we fell asleep.  It was a good and solid sleep, but my muscles were stiff and sore.  “Ouch!” I said as I moved.

                Jocelyn sat up, put her feet over the side of the bed, and then stretched her arms and legs.  “Ouch is right,” she said.  “My feelings, too.  We never did eat last night.”

                “I, ah---”  I could just see the clock on the kitchenette stove.  “I think we have enough time.  I think---does the restaurant open at six?”  I had climbed out of bed and reached for my phone on the counter.  I looked at it.  “It’s six thirty.  We’re already dressed.”

                Jocelyn sniffed at her rumpled clothes.  “I’d like to clean up and go down to the restaurant after.  Shouldn’t take long.  Besides, if I showed up wearing the same clothes as yesterday, people would talk.”

                “The truth isn’t so bad,” I said.  I ran my hand over my face.  “Well, I need a shave.”

                Jocelyn scratched her leg under her slacks.  “Yeah, me, too.  But I can do that tonight.”  She laughed.  “Here I have my own electric shaver.  I don’t have to borrow your razor.”

                “You can if you want.”  I smiled at her.  “Using my razor brought you closer to me.”

                She smiled at the thought.  I was sure I had said something like that before, but one fond memory was coming after another now.

#

                “My treat, my treat,” Jocelyn said as she grabbed the check.  “I was paid yesterday.”

                I patted my hip pocket, where my wallet was.  “Yeah…I didn’t get around to getting any cash yesterday.  The banks don’t know me here, and I’m not crazy about using ATMs.”  I sighed.  “I suppose I’ll use an ATM, but I don’t have to like it.”

                Jocelyn put a couple of bills in the check wallet.  “This will clean me out for now, too.  We could charge things.”

                “I hate running up charges even more than I hate ATMs.”  I pointed to the remains of our eggs-bacon-toast breakfast.  “I hate charging anything I can’t return if I have to.”

                “I’m leaning the most delightful things about you,” Jocelyn said.  She leaned across the table, a smirk on her face---and then she rubbed her nose against mine.  Then she leaned back.  “I’ve arranged it so I have half a day off, so be prepared to do something with me sometime after one.”

                “Would you like me to pick you up at the office?”

                “No, I’m going to drive in, and I’d still have to drive the car back.  How about I pick you up at the hotel and then we take a spin around town, me driving this time?”

                I smiled.  “It’s a date.”

#

                I loosened the lugnuts from Jocelyn’s right front tire.  “I have to admit,” I said, “that this wasn’t something I would have thought of doing on a date.”

                “I could have changed it myself,” Jocelyn said, standing beside me.  “I just couldn’t get enough leverage to get those lugnuts loose.”

                “We’ll have to get you something,” I said.  We used Jocelyn car jack, but I had a four-way tire iron in my car which gave a little more.  At least Jocelyn had a spare tire, not one of those inflation kits, and the spare tire had air.

                I pulled the tire off and let it fall flat on the asphalt, and Jocelyn rolled the spare towards me.  Together we lifted the spare onto the bolts.  I tightened the lugnuts in a star pattern, then released the jack.  The spare held.  I said, “You want to go to the tire store and get your tire plugged?”  A nail had done her tire in.  I’d left it in the tire.

                “Oh.  Hadn’t thought of it.  I was going to get a new tire, but on Monday.”

                “You don’t want to spend too much time driving around on a spare.”

                “I meant I didn’t want to spend the afternoon hanging around waiting for someone to put a new tire on my car.”

                “What about Sunday?”

                “Oh.”  That we had plans for Sunday had dropped out of her thoughts.  She smiled with embarrassment.  “I did so want to drive you to my parents.  Well, a new tire this afternoon it is.”

                I looked at the tire, then the other three tires.  “Maybe four fresh tires.”

                “That’ll bust my budget---and I’m not letting you pay for it, Tim!”  She crossed her arms and stood there, her lower lip thrust out.  She looked so damned cute.  I smiled, and then she started to laugh.

                I laughed with her.  “I’ll buy groceries and breakfast and dinner, till your next paycheck.”

                “Well,” Jocelyn said, “I’ve got savings.  I can cover this.  I’ve been trying to save up some money for…well, for things like this.”

                “Well, too, my savings won’t last forever---I think I will take Bert Gilligan’s job offer.”  I looked up at the steel and glass multi-story building whose parking lot we were in.  It was after one, and I came when she called.  “This is where you work.  Lot of glass windows.”

                “Yeah, all that glass makes it warm in the winter and very hot in the summer.”  Jocelyn looked up, shading her eyes, then looked away, almost covering her head with her hands.  “Oh.  They’re looking down at us, the Saturday crew.  I just know it.”

                “Well, Jocelyn,” I said, “I do hope to be a permanent part of your life---”

                “We’ll talk about that later.”

Jocelyn said that with enough firmness to shut down discussion.  Instead, I said, “let’s load the gear and the flat tire into the trunk and get a move-on.  Any place in particular?”

“I, ah, think I have a deal with Irv’s Autos.  It’s where I got these.  I’ve got a warranty.  In the glove compartment.”

“Okay.”  Once I had gathered everything up, I closed the trunk.  I had thrown my tire iron in with everything.  “Hop in and head out.  I’ll follow.”

“At least you can see a little more of the town.”

Jocelyn climbed in her car and had backed out as I was climbing into my car.  “No racing!” I shouted, but she was halfway down the parking lot, and she couldn’t have heard me through a rolled-up window anyway.

#

                The tires had a warranty, but it had expired.  But Jocelyn did have a loyal-customer discount.

                We sat in the waiting room of Irv’s Auto, a small room with a few uncomfortable plastic chairs just off the main bay.  We could look out a large window and see Jocelyn’s car being worked on.  Jocelyn told me she used Irv’s for repairs and five-thousand-mile checkups.

                The elderly man who handled Jocelyn’s car wasn’t Irv, but Chuck, at least according to the nametag sewn on his overalls.  He wore a hat that came down almost over his eyes.  Chuck knew Jocelyn from previous visits, which, I gathered, were getting more frequent.  “You gotta understand, Miss Sutton,” Chuck said.  “There’s just so much a car this age can handle.  The tires are the least part of it.”

                “We’ll make do, Chuck,” she said.  “I can’t afford a new car just now, not even a new old car.”

                Chuck looked at me, but I stayed silent.  Jocelyn had made it clear that I was not to get involved.  I knew enough about cars, but I was no expert.

                Chuck looked back to Jocelyn, and said, “Well, all right.  Four new tires on the poor old thing?”

                “Four new tires,” Jocelyn said, and nodded.

                So Jocelyn and I sat down and waited.  It would be a couple of hours before the car was ready.  I offered to take her back to the hotel or take her anywhere.  Jocelyn was firm about that, too.  She wanted to wait for it, wait it out, right there.

                Our conversation seemed to peter out for a while.  It felt good to me, to just sit there next to her.  I tried to think of what she could be thinking…cars…us…just about anything.

                Our thoughts, whatever they were, were interrupted when Chuck came back into the waiting room.  “Well, four new tires,” he said.  “That ought to hold you till your next checkup, if she doesn’t break before that.  Also, we changed the oils and filters.  You’re set to go.”  He handed Jocelyn a clipboard with the paperwork.  He looked at me, then said, “Would you like your car serviced, sir?”

                “I just had it serviced a few weeks ago at the dealership.”

                “We also do warranty work.”

                “Maybe some other time.”

                Jocelyn finished signing for the work, her credit card in her hand.  Chuck took both and was gone for a minute or so, then came back and handed back Jocelyn’s card and her copies.  And her car keys.

                Chuck, or somebody, parked Jocelyn’s car right outside the garage.  Mine was at the other end of the small lot.  Jocelyn sighed, looked at the sun going down, and said, “So much for seeing something of the town today.”

                “There’s always next weekend.”

                “You might be working.  You won’t have time.”

                I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her towards me.  “I will always have time for you, Jocelyn.”  Then we kissed.

                I thought I heard an “Aw!” from the general direction of the garage, but I couldn’t see anyone there when I looked.  Jocelyn blushed and pushed me away, then got in her car.  I walked down to my car as she zoomed by in her car.

#

                The spaces I had come to think of as “our spaces” were both taken---this extended-stay hotel did, after all, have other guests than us.  But spaces were open at either end, well in range of seeing the cars from Jocelyn’s window, and maybe my window too.  I hadn’t yet checked.

                Jocelyn had already gone on up.  Mrs. McVicar had a smile on her face as I came in.  She said to me, “The two of you were gone so long I thought you might have gone off on your honeymoon.”

                I smiled at the thought.  “No, but I’m hopeful.  Did Jocelyn pass by?”

                “Yes, but she didn’t think my joke was as funny as you did.  Maybe she’s still at the elevator.”

                I hurried along.  The elevator doors were closing, but when I pressed the button, the doors opened again.  Jocelyn was inside, blushing a little.  Embarrassed?  Maybe.  “Nothing to worry about,” I said.

                “We are in kind of an intense relationship,” Jocelyn replied.  “It must spill out sometimes.  But I’m not sure I like people assuming like that.”

                “What about tomorrow’s lunch with your family?”

                That produced a grimace.  “That could go the other way.  They might try to fix me up with someone else.”

                I stepped into the elevator.  “That won’t happen.”  I took her in my arms.  “I’d like to say you are mine, Jocelyn Sutton, and I would not let anyone take you from me.”  I grinned.  “That’s a poor sort of relationship claim.  Let me just say I love you.”  Saying that came easier.

                “Remember our deal?” Jocelyn said.  Half question, half statement.  She went on.  “Monday morning, we spend time apart.  I don’t want us to be one of those joined-at-the-hip couples.”

                I didn’t like it.  For Jocelyn’s sake, I would put up with it.  It was hitting me that I was into her, into her very deep.

                As I stood there, listening, taking it, Jocelyn said, “Maybe tomorrow we should just meet up and then go.  Spend tonight apart.”

                The elevator door opened on our floor.  “Oh, no,” I said as we stepped out.  “If I’m going to be separated from you Monday morning, I want as much time with you before then.”  I kissed her in front of the door.

                “Hmm!”  It wasn’t either of us, it was a cough.  An older man stood there.  He stepped past us and pressed the elevator button, then stood there, waiting.  The elevator had descended a little and was on its way back up.

                I guess there were other guests on this floor now.  I nudged Jocelyn, and we went down to her room.  She fumbled with the key card but then got the door open.

                Once we were inside, with just a few words between us, we were out of our clothes and into the bed together.  Afterwards, I looked at her leaning against me, eyes closed.  It wasn’t just the sex, not at all.  It was everything about her.  I thought I understood those joined-at-the-hip couples now.  How could I give her up on Monday, even if it was for a little while?

#

                Sunday breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.  Jocelyn cooked.  It tasted good to me.

                We talked as we ate.  “My parents will put out a big spread,” Jocelyn said.  “It’s all right if you make a pig of yourself.  I plan to do that.”

                “Maybe I should try to impress them with my manners.”

                “My parents aren’t big on that, either.  I wouldn’t know if I was using the wrong fork.  They won’t, either.”  We finished at the same time.  As she put the dishes in the sink, Jocelyn said, “Go and put on your suit.”

                “The luncheon is formal?” I asked.

                “I think so, formal as far as it goes.  But wear a suit.  I think my parents and sisters and their husbands will be, well, well-dressed, I suppose.  At least I don’t have to worry about Patricia.  She would.  But she’s somewhere in the Bahamas on her honeymoon.”

                I nodded.  “What will you be wearing?”

                “Oh, my best blouse and slacks.  But you wear a suit.”

                I stood up.  “The Bahamas, right?  Would you prefer a honeymoon at Niagara Falls?  It’s a traditional honeymoon place.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  Just then, her phone, sitting on the counter next to where we ate, started to put out its ringtones.  She glanced at the screen, then sighed and picked it up.  “Hello, Mother,” she said.  Her tone was bleak.  I could hear her mother’s voice, but just a few words here and there.  Jocelyn said, “Yes, I remember.  Yes, we’re getting ready, right now.  We’ll be dressed right.  We’ll be there before noon, don’t you worry.”

She listened to a longer speech from her mother, and said, “That’s…good, Mother.  Who did you say is coming again?”  After another long reply I couldn’t make out, Jocelyn said.  “We’ll be there.  We’ll be dressed for it.  All right, then.  Good-bye, Mom.”

She hung up, put the phone down, and looked at me, her expression sorrowful.  “I’m sorry.  It looks like I was right about dressing up.  Mom is planning a big formal picnic.”

I nodded.  “Casual wear not wanted?”

“I imagine some of the guests will be wearing more casual clothes.  Not us.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “I’m sure she’s invited someone to fix me up with, but she didn’t give a name.  I have a few ideas.”

                “Vince?”

                “Ooh, maybe.”

                I let her think about that for a while.  Jocelyn went back to the kitchen sink where she washed the dishes.  There weren’t that many, just the egg pan and two dishes.

                I wondered about being in a situation with someone who might be Jocelyn’s date for the picnic.  I said, “Just remember, Jocelyn, to come back home with me.”

                Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder at me.  “No fear.”

#

                We took her car.  It seemed reasonable to me.  Besides, my plans were to stay until Jocelyn wanted to leave.  As we turned off the main highway into the development where her parents lived, Jocelyn said, “Somehow I don’t think we’re going to have a good time.”  It was eleven-fifteen, plus or minus a few minutes.

                I nodded and looked around.  This development, or maybe neighborhood, wasn’t small.  The houses on the winding road were few and far apart, large, sitting on big spreads of land.  Multi-room multi-story ranch houses.

                Did it!  Jocelyn drove all the way down the road, two to three winding miles, to the very end, to the beginning of a long private driveway.  There was a gate, but the gate was open, and Jocelyn turned her car and drove in without hesitation.

                This driveway was gravel, and maybe a quarter mile around.  The house was large, somewhat rustic and woody in appearance.  In front of the house was a sort of roundabout.  There was a flagpole in a spread of grass in the middle, without a flag on it.

                A dozen cars were parked around the roundabout.  Jocelyn pulled in behind one, a sedan out of which somebody, a man in a suit somewhat less formal than mine, was just getting out.  I caught his eye just as he spotted me and smiled.

                It was Bert Gilligan!

                To say I was surprised was an understatement.  Bert smiled as I emerged.  I tried to go around and help Jocelyn out from behind the steering wheel, but Bert was faster and intercepted me before I could.  “Tim Deacon!” he said.  “What brings you here?”

                Jocelyn had climbed out, and she saw him.  He put on a broad grin.  “Jocelyn Sutton!”  He looked again at me and said, “Who’d have figured?”

                Jocelyn came over and stood next to me.  “Bert,” she said, “what brings you here?”

                Bert laughed and thumped the car he was now leaning against.  “My old war horse here.”  It was a pony car, all right.  “Ninety thousand miles and it still runs.”

                Jocelyn groaned, a faint sound in her throat, and said, “No, Bert, I mean---”

                “I know, I know.”  Bert held up his hands and hunched his shoulders.  “Your parents invited my parents, and since I was here for the weekend, I was invited, too.”  He said, “So you’re the girl that Tim, here, has fallen hard for.”

                Jocelyn looked at me.  I coughed, and said, “I suppose that’s true.”

                “We’ll catch up later.  I guess I’ve got to go in and greet our hosts---your parents, I mean.”  He nodded and smiled and moved on.

                I stood with Jocelyn, who looked at me, an expression of---well, disapproval was present, but the expression seemed stronger than that.  I said, “I didn’t know you knew Bert Gilligan.”

                “His family and mine are, well, friends, I guess.”  She pointed back the way we had driven in.  “They live down on the other side of the main road.  I think they have even more money than my parents.  You?”

                “College friend.”  I had always thought he was a good guy, except for how he phrased things, a love of misconstruing things.  I let that hang in the air before I dropped my other thought.  “You never mentioned your family was rich, Jocelyn,” I said.

                “Never came up,” Jocelyn replied.  “And they’re not that rich.  I’ll have to sit you down and fill you in.”  She brightened a little.  “Of course, you will have to fill me in about your family.  Drycleaning, you said?”

                I nodded.

                “Well, we’ve lingered enough.”  She slung her purse, a white leather pouch over her shoulder, that matched the white calf-length dress with belt she wore.  She smoothed out her dress and said, “Let’s go in and face the music.”

#

                Out of the sun, it was cooler.  It was a warm day.  Jocelyn knew her way about in the house, and she led me through what I took to be a living room and a formal dining room into the backyard.  A large tent had been set up, up against the house.

                There were three or four dozen people around, and Jocelyn knew some of them and greeted them as the two of us passed through.  But she didn’t linger on any person or couple.  Instead, she greeted them.  “Mrs. Smith!  How nice to see you again!  “Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I haven’t seen you in ages.  Ben, good to see you!”  Her tone seemed pleasant, but, I thought, it was a little phony.

                I whispered, “You know all these people?”

                “Just that they’re friends of my parents,” Jocelyn whispered back.  “I don’t---oh, damn!”

                Jocelyn looked angry and upset at the same time: her face reddened.  She pointed and said, “Vince.”

                It was Vince.  From the wedding.  Jocelyn’s escort.  He stood near the open door, in the tent, and was looking in the other direction.  Jocelyn took my elbow and steered me around, so we were heading the other way.  When we had moved into the other room and stopped in an isolated corner behind a couch, Jocelyn said, in a soft voice, “Damn, damn, damn!”

                “Does his presence upset you so much?” I said.

                “I could tolerate it,” Jocelyn replied, “if I didn’t think my parents had some ulterior motives.  Vince doesn’t live around here anymore, not even in town.”

                “So if he’s here---”

                “Yeah, I think my parents might try to put us together.”

                I felt some annoyance myself, rising in me.  I said, “I know your parents know you’re here with me, Jocelyn.”

                “They---I mean, I told them.”

                I sighed.  “Well, let’s assume Vince is here for, uh, innocent reasons, and it’s nothing to do with you.  Or me,” I said, adding that as an afterthought.

                Jocelyn seemed to accept that, but she still seemed to seethe.  I said, “Look, Jocelyn, if you’re so upset, let’s just leave and text our regrets to your parents.”

                “It’s just that---”

                Just then we were interrupted by a cry of, “Jocelyn!” and we both turned.  It was Vince.  Looked about the same as I had seen him last, though he wore a lighter gray shade of suit and his shave looked better.  He had a big smile on his face.  He had seen us, or, at least, seen Jocelyn, after all.

                Jocelyn sighed and stepped out from behind the couch.  I followed.  Vince came right up to us, or to her, and said, “Boy, am I glad to see you!  When you left the wedding---”

                “I had something to take care of,” Jocelyn said.  Her tone was as cold as Vince’s was warm.  She said, “Let me introduce my very good friend Timothy Deacon.”

                I wasn’t crazy about being referred to as “very good friend,” but I understood her reasoning.  And I wasn’t crazy about the idea of causing any sort of scene, at least not yet.

                Vince didn’t offer to shake my hand.  I saw that flicker of distaste on his face, that I had seen when I caught his eye at the wedding.  But it was in the middle of a big smile this time and he returned to warmth.  “Yes, your parents said you had brought him to the wedding.  It was sad, being alone with your empty seat next to me.”

                I realized I had been in contact with Vince long enough, and received enough information about him, to form a dislike, a hearty dislike.  It was time, though, to speak.  “Yes,” I said, stepping forward so I was just a little closer to him than Jocelyn, “she went off with me after that.”

                “I hadn’t planned on staying much beyond the wedding itself,” Jocelyn said. 

                “Ah, well,” Vince said, a definite glare---at me---on his face.  He turned away from me and looked straight at Jocelyn.  “You look good in that dress.  You wouldn’t know how good.  Now if your hair was a little longer…”  He glanced over his shoulder, then said, “Perhaps we can talk later.”  He nodded in farewell to Jocelyn, but not to me, and turned away and left.

                Jocelyn let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

                “I’m sorry,” I said.

                “It was bad,” Jocelyn said.  She lowered her voice almost to a whisper.  “I thought he might say I didn’t look like a boy.”

                “He said that?”  I kept my voice down, too---after all, there were other people around.

                “You don’t think I looked like a boy.”

                I chuckled.  “Remember what you wore when we met?  You didn’t look like a boy then.”

                “Vince has said that.”

                I nodded.  “If he had, well, I don’t know what would have happened.”

                Jocelyn looked at me and said, “Maybe we should just leave.”

                “I wish we could, but…”  I glanced to one side.  “Aren’t those your parents approaching?”

                It was and they were headed right for us.  “Jocelyn!” her mother said and took her in her arms and gave her a big hug.  Jocelyn remained tense.

                Her father hugged her next, and shook my offered hand, using both of his to hold my arm as we shook.  He seemed happy to see me---or was it an act?  “Good to make your acquaintance again, Timothy, was it?”

                “Tim, they call me,” I said.  I looked at Jocelyn and her mother.  Her mother did not look happy to see me---or be thrilled with Jocelyn.

                Her mother said, “I’m glad you were able to come today.  We’ve got a big banquet planned.  I would---your father and I---would like to speak with you---”  She glanced at me.  “---alone?”

                “I don’t want to leave Tim alone,” Jocelyn said.  “He doesn’t know anybody here.”

                “Nonsense!  Bert Gilligan told us he’d gone to school with him.  I saw him here a moment ago.”  She took Jocelyn’s elbow and started to guide her away.  Jocelyn pulled her elbow away in a sharp up and down gesture.

                Jocelyn said, “I’d rather stay with Tim.”  She looked at me for support.

                I was ready to do whatever Jocelyn wanted, as soon as I figured out what it was.  She gave me a pained look, but then said, “Oh, all right, but not for long.”

                “I guess I’ll…mingle?”

                Jocelyn nodded, and then her parents took her off, going out through an open door and into a corridor beyond.  I watched them go, then turned around.

                I spotted Bert Gilligan, just outside in the tent.  He was talking with a man I recognized as the husband of Joan or Janie.  I wasn’t sure which.  As I approached, another man came up as well.  I recognized him---he was Jocelyn’s sister.  I couldn’t remember if I had gotten his name.  “Junior,” Jocelyn had said.

                Bert said to me, “I don’t think you had a chance to meet at the wedding, I gather.  John, this is Timothy Deacon, a friend of Jocelyn’s, her date for this event.”

                A brief sour look passed across John’s face.  He held out his hand and shook it.  “I feel you should be warned.”

                Had I offended someone?  My own face must have revealed something, because Bert Gilligan said, “He means there’s been a change in the seating arrangements.”

                “What?”  Some of the implications penetrated.  I said, “I’m here with Jocelyn.  I figure---that is, I---”  I looked upward, and said, “You mean I won’t be sitting next to Jocelyn?”

                John sighed, and said, “I’m afraid, sir, my parents have, well, peculiar notions about us children.  What would make them happy would be if we dated and married somebody they approved of beforehand.”

                “That seems…”  I felt extreme annoyance rising, and hesitated before I answered.  “…barbaric,” I said.

                “It’s not quite as bad as all that,” the other man said.  “They hadn’t met me before Joan and I were engaged.”

                “You kind of eloped,” John said.

                “They knew where we were.  They didn’t stop it.”

                “It’s true of John, here, too,” Bert Gilligan said.

                “Well, we had a church wedding,” John replied.

                I said, “Then they don’t exercise control over this?”

                “Oh, no,” Joan’s husband said, “I think all of them married the spouses they wanted.”

                “Even without expressed parental approval,” Bert Gilligan added.

                I had to think about this.  I realized Jocelyn was now off with her parents---what were they saying to her?

                I turned to Joan’s husband and said, “I’m sorry, Mister, ah…I don’t think I got your name.”

                “Harold Campion,” he said, holding out his hand---the other had a drink in it.  After we shook hands he said, “Her parents aren’t, well---”  He glanced at John, then said, “They aren’t the easiest people to get along with.”

                John said, “Oh, don’t I know it.”  He turned to me and said, “Timothy…can I call you Timothy?”

                “Most people call me Tim,” I said.

                “Well, then, Tim, our family is well-to-do, you must realize.”  He waved a hand around.  “Look at this place, the side of this spread.”

                “Yes, I noticed,” I said.  “Jocelyn hadn’t brought it up, other than to say that.  But I can look around and draw some conclusions.”

                “They’re not gazillionaires, Tim,” Bert Gilligan said.  “But they’ve, ah, got some.”

                John said, “They were after us all to marry other people who---”  He looked at Bert Gilligan and said, “ ‘Got some?’  Interesting phrase.”

                “But accurate.”

                “Yes.”  He sighed, and said, “I don’t think any of us married anyone who was dirt poor---I don’t know about Jane’s husband, to be honest---but it was on their minds.”

                An awful premise arose in my mind.  I kind of wished I had a drink in my hand, though I don’t drink.  I said, “You mean that your parents might be in there with Jocelyn right now, telling her I’m marrying her for her family’s money?”

                “I’m afraid so, Tim,” John said.

                Up till that morning, I hadn’t thought anybody would think that---I think I had a vague idea Jocelyn’s family was well-to-do, most of that from the somewhat lavish wedding I had kind of attended.  But the idea---well, it must have given me a sour taste in my mouth, and it must have shown on my face.

                Bert Gilligan said, “I told them, Tim, when they asked me about you.  You’ve got money.”

                “I haven’t got a lot of money,” I said.  “My family is in the drycleaning business.”

                “And you’re a top-flight engineer who can write his own ticket anywhere else,” he added.

                John sighed.  “I know how my parents feel.  And how they act.”

                It hit me then that, above all, I had to talk to Jocelyn.  I started to take a step away from them, then stopped.  I had no idea where Jocelyn was.  Somewhere in the house.

                Harold said, “I don’t know Jocelyn that well, but if you’re worried this will somehow get in the way, I wouldn’t worry.”

                “They’re willful,” Bert Gilligan said.  “Even John here is willful, even if he is the least willful.”

                John frowned.  “Thank you,” he said with sarcasm.

                “Not his fault, he’s just a Junior and you know how Juniors can be.”  Bert Gilligan blinked, then said, “It’s not a problem, Tim, unless it were true that you’re a fortune hunter looking to marry Jocelyn for her money.  Is it?”

                I was starting to get annoyed with this conversation.  I fought down the idea of replying with some heat, and said, calm as I could manage, “I am not.  It so happens I’m in love with Jocelyn.  Love at first sight, I think.”

                Harold nodded.  “Joan told me how you two met.  String bikini that didn’t conceal a thing.”

                “Knowing what you were getting into,” Bert Gilligan said.

                I was looking for an excuse to step away from this conversation.  It looked like John was about to reply to Bert Gilligan’s comment, defending his sister on the notion she wasn’t attractive---he didn’t have to sell me on the idea.  I found Jocelyn very attractive.

                And just then Jocelyn came up and took my arm and gave me a tug.  “Come with me, Tim,” she said.

                I came, not saying goodbye to the others.  She gave them all a single glance, a glare out of a face that I could see had an angry and upset expression on it.

                I let Jocelyn lead me down a corridor and then another corridor until we reached one door.  Jocelyn opened the door and almost pushed me inside.  It was a bare room, with two bare mattresses.  “This was my room,” Jocelyn said, “or, I mean, I shared it with Janie or Joan most of the time.”

                “I shared my room with my brother,” I said, “until he went to college.”

                Jocelyn didn’t hear me.  She walked into the room and turned around and sat down on one of the bare mattresses.  “It seems so…so empty now.  I had my half and Joan had her half and it’s all gone now.”

                “Have you stayed here since you, ah, moved out?”

                “No, there’s a guest room, other end of the house, I stayed there.”  Jocelyn gave way to a flash of anger.  “My parents!  I couldn’t believe what they said!”

                I sat down next to her and patted her thigh---the dress Jocelyn wore had come up to about the middle and I patted the flesh of the thigh.  I said, “I think I can tell you a little.  I talked with your brother and brother-in-law.”

                Jocelyn looked alarmed.  She eased away from me a little.  “What did they tell you?”

                “That your parents think I’m marrying you for your family’s money.”

                “Oh, you heard.”  Jocelyn shook her head.  “They must have had a private investigator look into you.  Names of family, properties, bank accounts, debts, mortgages.”

                “Well, I don’t have any debts.  I’m in the clear.”

                “Yes, they admitted that.  But you’ve got to admit---no, no.”  She held up her hand and shook her head at the same time.  “You don’t have to say anything, admit anything.  It’s my parents who are to blame.”

                Jocelyn stood up.  “Let’s get out of here, Tim.  I don’t see any point in sitting through a boring lunch next to Vince Knebel.”

                That was Vince’s last name?  Knebel, pronounced with the “K?”  I hadn’t gotten it before.  I looked at Jocelyn and tugged at her arm.  “Sit down.  You’re upset.”

                “You bet I’m upset!” Jocelyn said.

                “Well, Jocelyn, I’m upset, too.  I’m being accused of something, something that’s not true.  Did they out-and-out accuse me of, uh, fortune-hunting?”

                “Nno….”  Jocelyn dragged out the syllables, hesitant.  “Not in so many words, but that was what they, they implied.”

                I sighed.  I decided to suppress my own anger at the whole situation, at least as well as I could.  I got Jocelyn to sit down again with a tug and then took her hands in mine.  “Look.  I’ll say it.  I love you.  I want to marry you.  As long as you’re willing to have me.”

                She blinked, then nodded.

                I went on.  “I admit my family does not have that much money, maybe not compared to your family, but, well, we’ve always gotten by.  My parents put three of us children through college without us children having to go deep into debt.  They didn’t go into debt either.  My parents look forward to a comfortable retirement.”

                Jocelyn nodded again.

                “Besides that, I can earn a living.  I’ve already got a job with Bert Gilligan’s company---”

                “Er, before you go too far with that, Tim.”  Jocelyn sniffed, and said, “My parents said---I mean, they implied---that they were going to put the screws on Bert Gilligan to get him to fire you.”

                “What?  No!”  I felt shock.  I’d just been talking with Bert Gilligan---I had not seen any sign that he had spoken about something like that with anybody, much less Jocelyn’s parents.  He seemed normal.

                In fact---   “Jocelyn,” I said, “I’ve known Bert Gilligan for a while, since college.  In all honesty, I don’t think he would give in to something like that.  Your parents have a connection with the company he works for?”

                Jocelyn shrugged.  “I know my parents are friends with his parents.  I’ve known him, on and off, since we were kids.  We went to the same school.”

                “I just don’t think he’d do that.”  I looked away and then grinned.  “Besides, there are other companies.”

                “Maybe not near here, near me,” Jocelyn said.  She stopped, and before I could bring up anything else, she held up a hand and said, “Let’s not talk about me quitting my job, or you finding one.  This has nothing to do with any of that.  I want to be with you, you want to be with me, and everything else is just a detail.”

                She sighed.  “But my parents---” she said and let her sentence trail off after three words. 

                Once again, I patted her thigh---in moving around, she had pulled the skirt of her dress down a little and I patted fabric.  “Look, Jocelyn, however I feel, I don’t want to come between you and your parents.  Maybe I should talk with them.”

                “Yes, maybe.”  But as I started to stand up, Jocelyn held onto my arm and I stayed sitting down.  “No, Tim, not now.  Later.  After they have more time---weeks, maybe, or months, even---more time to think about it.  They’ll figure it out.  They had better.”

                That time, Jocelyn stood up.  I stood up with her, but she said, “No, Tim, you stay here for the moment.  The bathroom is down the hall, and I need to fix my face.”

                Jocelyn hadn’t worn, didn’t wear much makeup, but what she had was in fact a little mussed-up.  I nodded and sat down again.  She went to the closed door, turned and smiled at me---and her smiles just lit me up inside---and said, “I won’t be long.”

                I sat down, twiddled my thumbs in a figurative manner, and waited.  And thought.

#

                It was more than twenty minutes---I checked the clock on my phone a couple of times.  Jocelyn’s face did look better.  And she had done something to her dress, something I could not define.

                “Let’s go,” Jocelyn said.  “We’ve got to get in our seats, you in yours, and me in mine, far away.”

                I took her hand.  “Look, Jocelyn, if this whole thing upsets you, let’s slip out together and just leave and go home.”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “No, if we did, I’d never hear the end of it.  We’ll stick it out, then leave.”  Her smile got a little broader…almost an evil smile, I thought.  “I’ve got something in mind, if something comes up.”

                “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” I said.  I sighed and said, “Well, we had better get out there.”  It was almost noon.

                She reached over and hugged me.  “I’m glad you understand.”  I hugged back, feeling good about it.

                While we were in each other’s arms, I said, “Jocelyn, you don’t think I am what your parents think, do you?  I mean, fortune hunter and all that.”

                We broke off our hug and Jocelyn said, “Of course not!  And even if you were, I wouldn’t care!  I’ll make my own way in the world.  I’m not getting anything from my parents right now, and that can just go on.”  She winked.  “Do your parents think I’m a fortune hunter.”

                “I…ah…haven’t let them know about us, yet.”  It seemed like an appalling lapse once I said that.  “I don’t think they’ll mind.  I don’t know.”

                Jocelyn sighed.  “Well, my parents are going to be difficult enough.  We’ll deal…we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”

                Now it was my turn to hug her first.  And gave her a kiss.  It was as if we melted in each other’s arms.  But it didn’t last long.  We broke off, straightened our clothes, and were off.

#

                We went back to the tent attached to the house.  It was large, a giant tent, and there were several tables laid out within the tent.  Long tables, forty-foot folding tables covered with tablecloths and dishes and silverware.

And people were sitting at the tables already.  I looked around.  There was one table at the far end of the tent.  People milled about, and some were already seated at the tables.  Behind it, I saw Jocelyn’s parents, chatting with Vince.

                Vince looked in our direction and said something to Jocelyn’s parents.  I couldn’t hear what---we were too far away for me to make out anything.  Jocelyn’s mother turned and looked, then gestured for someone else to come over.  They were approached by a tall man with a white jacket---the head waiter?  I noticed several white-jacketed men and women around.

                In all honesty, the first thing I thought of was I had no idea what we would be eating.  I hadn’t thought to ask.

                In any case, the tall man---must have stood a full head over everyone else around---came over, threaded himself around the other guests, and made a beeline straight for Jocelyn and me.  “Ah, Miss Jocelyn,” he said, “and you must be Mister Deacon.”  He had an artificial smile on his face---something that made me long for one of Jocelyn’s smiles.

                Jocelyn knew him.  “Yes, Ambrose?” she asked.

                Ambrose kept his smile on his face, and now his face had a slight hint of having to do something he found distasteful.  “Miss Jocelyn, I am instructed to show Mister Deacon to his place at the table.  You are to sit with your parents.”

                “Yes, I can find my way.”  Jocelyn looked sad for a moment, then said to me in a whisper, “Don’t be surprised at what I might do.”

                “What you might---are you planning on doing something?”

                “It all depends.”  Jocelyn looked at Ambrose, who appeared to have heard.  “Nothing terrible.  At least I don’t think so.”

                “Yes, Miss Jocelyn,” Ambrose replied, then with a wave of his hand said, “This way, Mister Deacon.”

                “Just a moment,” Jocelyn said.  “Hold this for me.”  She handed me her small matching white purse.  “I don’t want to lose it.”

                “Lose it?”

                “Mislay it, then.”

                “Sir,” Ambrose said.  “If you will follow…”

                I nodded and followed him.  I looked back and saw Jocelyn head for the head table and her parents.

                My place was at the far end of one of the long tables, just as far from the main table as was possible.  To my surprise, I found Bert Gilligan sitting next to me.  He laughed and said, “I had to slip something to Mister Ambrose to get here.  Isn’t that right, Mister Ambrose.”

                “Yes, sir, Master, er, Mister Gilligan,” Ambrose replied.  “You would have been near the head of one of the other tables.”  He pulled out the chair for me to sit in.  “Here, sir.”

                I sat down.  Ambrose nodded and left.  Bert Gilligan went on.  “I figured you might need somebody to talk to.”

                I put Jocelyn’s purse on the table, and said, “I do have more questions.  You aren’t in any trouble over hiring me, are you?”

                He shook his head.  “No.  A little flak from the Sutton parents, but they haven’t said anything to me straight.”  He blinked.  “My bosses at the company were pleased at the idea of getting you.  Your reputation as a project troubleshooter comes before you.  They were glad to know you were available.”

                “You don’t think the Suttons, Jocelyn’s parents, could interfere with that.”

                “I rather doubt it.”  He raised a goblet glass---it appeared to have red wine in it---and said, “Skoal!”  As he took a sip, I regretted not having a glass.  I didn’t drink but it seemed, what with the rough of the day, I could use one.

                Better to stay sober, I thought.  I looked.  Jocelyn stood with her parents, and they were talking---they were way too far to hear or even make out their lips and try to read them.

                I noticed Vince hanging around in the background, not part of the conversation.  He had a smile on his face.  Hard to tell from a distance, but it seemed he was happy.  About what---I couldn’t tell at this distance.

                Jocelyn’s two sisters and their husbands were already sitting at either end of that table.  Others---relatives?---were getting into seats.  But for the moment Jocelyn and her parents and Vince were still standing, talking.

                By then, most everyone had taken a seat.  I saw Ambrose and others guiding people in, and food was being laid out on plates.  Seemed like barbecue.  I wondered if someone would take an order, or if I’d get just what comes.  It looked like it would take some time before they got down to our end of the table.

                Jocelyn and her parents sat down.  Jocelyn sat next to her mother---and Vince.  I had a good look into Jocelyn’s face.  She looked very unhappy.  I wondered if she could see me…wondered what my face would show.  I sure didn’t want to see Jocelyn unhappy.

                But then Jocelyn’s father, on the other side of her mother, stood up.  He had a knife in his hand, which he used to tap on a glass in front of him.  With each ding-ding-ding, the noise of the party died down and attention was on him.

                He made a throat-clearing noise, then said, “People…friends.”  He looked around, then said, “Many of you attended the wedding of our daughter Patricia last week.  It had been our hope that we could make this announcement at the reception afterwards, but it wasn’t possible.”

                Jocelyn glared at him, I could see.

                “But we can make the announcement today, people.”  Jocelyn’s mother and Vince stood up.  Jocelyn stood up right after---I saw Jocelyn’s mother tug on Jocelyn’s arm, and Jocelyn did a slow rise.

                Her father went on.  “We are pleased to announce---”

                “Just a minute!  Just a minute!”  Jocelyn waved one arm.  “I’ve got something to say now!”  She was louder, and her voice was more piercing.

                “Jocelyn!” her mother said.

                Jocelyn ignored her.  “My parents want to announce that I’m engaged to Vincent Fara, here.  I want you to know he proposed and I said no!”

                I was on my feet, and saw I wasn’t alone, others had too.

                Jocelyn’s mother tried to grab Jocelyn’s arm, but Jocelyn shook her hand off and stepped up.  She put a leg on the chair and climbed up on that and stood on the table.  “My parents are trying to get me to marry a man who tells me, again and again, that I look like a boy!  I won’t do it!”  She was shouting.

                Jocelyn’s hand went up to the neckline of her dress.  And with one hard tug she pulled the dress loose and stood there.

                A gasp from the crowd went up.  I gasped, too---but then, I could see that Jocelyn was wearing the multi-colored bikini she had worn when we first met.  Had she worn that under her dress all along?  Or had she put it on sometime?

                “Do I look like a boy to you?” Jocelyn said, pointing with her thumb to her chest.  She walked across the table---I saw she was thrusting her chest forward, as if she did have large breasts.

                Jocelyn’s father stood up and tried to grab her by the leg, but Jocelyn stepped away and he missed and almost fell on the tabletop.  She looked away and smiled.

                Then she pointed to her chest with her thumb.  “I’m not marrying Vince Fara!  Besides, I’ve met someone else, and I’m going to marry him!”

                Another gasp from the crowd, and many in the crowd looked around, and then in my direction.  I felt myself blushing.

                Jocelyn pointed---at me.  “There he is!  Timothy Deacon!”

                I felt an urge to sink into the floor and disappear.  But then Jocelyn cupped her hands to her mouth, and shouted, “Timothy!  Will you marry me?”

                That seemed to shock Jocelyn’s parents.  Her mother fell back in her chair and seemed to faint.  Her father stopped another try at grabbing Jocelyn’s legs, then turned to her mother and started to prop her up.  Her mother revived---if it was a faint---and sat up, her face angry.

                I could see Vince’s face.  His face was a mask of rage.

                Jocelyn started to get down from the table, on the other side.  I heard a whisper in my ear.  “Go to her.”  I turned.  It was Jocelyn’s brother John.

                I took his advice.  I had to round the end of the table, and by then Jocelyn was running past everyone and we met just a little past where I had been sitting.  We fell into each other’s arms and kissed.

                The embrace didn’t last long.  I looked around.  The crowd seemed in shock.  But when we broke our embrace, there was the sound of scattered applause.  I said, “I think we had better go.”

                Jocelyn looked around.  “I think you’re right.  But answer me, Tim.  Will you marry me?”

                “Yes.”

                “Come, then.”  Jocelyn gave me a tug on my arm.  We moved around the tables, slowing down just long enough for Jocelyn to grab her purse.  It made me think, “Your outfit---”

                “Forget it.”  We moved into the house.  No one tried to stop us.

#

                Jocelyn’s car was kind of blocked in by another car.  It turned out Bert Gilligan had followed us.  Without saying a word but giving a single wink and a broad smile to us, he got in his car and pulled it a little forward and we could get out.

                Jocelyn started to get into the driver’s side, but then she said, “Tim, you drive.  I’m, well, a little shaky.”

                “And I’m less?”

                Jocelyn smiled.  It had been an ordeal, and she was starting to recover.

                We were turning onto the highway when I said, “Did you have to do that, Jocelyn?”

                “Oh, yeah.”  I couldn’t look straight into Jocelyn’s face, but I sensed her tone.  Nervous, fearful, but starting to relax.  Jocelyn said, “I told my mother, again, that I was not going to marry Vince.  She said it was settled.”

                “That was when you were alone with your parents?” I asked.

                “I couldn’t tell you before---besides, I didn’t know that Dad would get up and start to make an announcement.”

                “You must have suspected something.”  I tried to glance over at Jocelyn, but the traffic kept my attention beyond a single turn of the head.  I said, “I mean, you had that bikini on under your dress.”

                “I had it in my purse.”  Jocelyn chuckled.  “It didn’t take up much space.  I put it on in the bathroom and also made a couple of cuts in my dress so I could pull it off like that.  I’d plan to confront Vince with it, but my parents---well, you were there.  You heard.”

                I nodded.  “Did you mention my name to your parents when you talked to them alone?”

                “No, I’ve got to say, I didn’t.  But it was a matter of being difficult to get words in edgewise, as they say.  My mother talked, and I could put in just the occasional start of a sentence.”

                “I see.”

                I supposed there were many more details to fill in, like how others in her family seemed kind of sympathetic, or why Vince seemed so convinced Jocelyn was a boy, or for that matter why Vince would go along with an engagement announcement when Jocelyn rejected him.  Or had she?

                But that was for more in-depth conversation…later.  Right now, we were on the road, back to town.  After a lull, with nothing but traffic noise by us, I said, “So now what do we do?”

                “I hadn’t thought about it,” Jocelyn said.  “I suppose we just go back and pick up where we left off.”  Jocelyn slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out her phone.  “I’m glad this was on mute,” she said.  “I’ve got calls from my parents already.  My sisters, too.  And…well, I don’t recognize this number, and it doesn’t say who.”

                “Nothing you have to deal with now?”

                “Nothing I want to deal with.  We’ll just ignore them, until my parents cool down.”

                “I don’t think I can look at my phone now.  But never mind.  I do think there’s one more thing we should be doing.”

                “What’s that?”

                “Getting married.”

                Jocelyn gasped---I guess the thought startled her---but it seemed, not so much.  “Do we go down to City Hall and take out a license?”

                “I don’t know if they’re open on Sundays.  Or if there’s a waiting period.  Or a blood test.”  I sighed.  “When we get home, I’ll do a search and see what has to be done.”

                “When we get home.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “They’ll know where to look for us.”

                “By the time they get there, we’ll be married.  If we can pull it off in time.”  I laughed.  “Maybe we could get Mrs. McVicar and Mr. Metzinger to say we’ve checked out---no, that you checked out, and they’ll look while you’re down in my room, which they won’t mention.”

                Jocelyn laughed at that, too.  She had gotten very tense and some of the tension was starting to leak away.  “Yeah, I, ah, don’t think I mentioned you were staying in the same hotel as I was.”

                “It’s a good sign, I guess.”

                We were silent again for a bit, as we got closer to town.  I said, “You know, Jocelyn, I do think this might have gone better.  But it can’t be helped now.  I don’t want you to lose your family over this.”

                “Oh, I’m sure I won’t.  But it was bad, no doubt about that.”

                “Well, cheer up, some.  We’ll be married soon, or sooner.  And besides---”  I grinned.  “You haven’t met my parents yet.”

                She laughed, and we laughed.  It seemed we had gone from a bad experience to a good beginning.  Jocelyn slipped next to me as we went into town.  I didn’t say anything, thinking of the possibilities.  Nothing ever goes like you think it would.

                But I was happy, and, I think, once over the shock of it, Jocelyn was happy, too.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Robert Nowall

                It was the uncomfort that woke me up.  I slept on no soft bed.  It was a couch.  It was lumpy and hard.  I blinked.  Lights were on, but it was morning and light came from windows.  I sat up on the couch and looked around.

                It was a hotel room.  I was in a room with a couch and television, and one side was a mini-kitchen and a counter in front of it.  A suitcase, my suitcase, was on the counter, open, a T-shirt and a pair of socks hanging over the suitcase edge.  My clothes, the clothes I wore when I checked in last night, were draped over a chair.  I looked down at myself.  I wore a pair of briefs.

                A blanket fell down from me as I sat up.  There was a separate bedroom in this hotel room, which must be behind the door to my right.  The door was open.  Had I gone in there last night?  I thought so.  There was a bathroom and I had used it.

                I hadn’t been drunk or anything, just tired.  I guessed, once I took off my clothes, I didn’t get as far as putting pajamas on.  I must have just gone to the couch and fell asleep.  Did I turn the TV on?  Was it on a timer?

                The door to the bedroom was to the right, next to the counter and the kitchen.  The door to the room was to my left.  The TV was on the wall right in front of me.  The light came from behind, from windows.

                I turned my head around.  The window was big glass doors, with maybe a patio or lanai beyond.  The curtains were drawn over the doors, but light let through.  She stood looking at the curtains.

                She turned around.  I remembered her.  When I arrived, I took a walk around the hotel, to see what’s what, something I did every time I checked into a hotel.  I met her down by the pool.  We chatted for a while---flirted---but I had to beg off, being, as I said, dog tired and exhausted.

                It was the bikini she wore that caught my attention, that we chatted about before I left.  It was three small patches of fabric, tiny triangles, just covering the nipples and pubic area, held together by thin straps.  And the colors didn’t match.  The left breast was red, the right breast was green, and the pubic area was blue.

                The fabric concealed nothing, but there was nothing much to conceal.  She was a skinny thing, breasts not large at all, not much red hair cut short, hips not having much padding.  If she had more clothes on, I might have mistaken her for a young boy.  But the bikini did not leave that to the imagination---she was a girl.

                I wondered how she had the nerve to wear it.

                I would have talked more, but I had just gotten in and was tired.  I remembered, making a half-promise to meet up some other time or thought I had.

                What was her name again?  Jocelyn?  Yes, Jocelyn.  I got her name last night and given mine.  Timothy Deacon.  Traveler and tourist.  Had she said what she did?  She still wore the bikini with the mismatched colors.  She smiled.

                I sat, looking over my shoulder, and blinked at her.  “Glad you’re awake,” she said, as she came over and stood next to the couch.

                “Er, ah…” I said.

                Sadness flickered across her face.  “You don’t remember me.”

                “No, no,” I said.  “I remember you…I think.  But I thought I came back to my room, er, alone.”

                She sat down next to me and leaned against me.  I shriveled a little and leaned a little away.  I was worried, and about one thing.  “Did we, ah…”

                “No.”  She chuckled.  The worry lifted a little.  Sex changed everything, and I did not know much more about her than her first name and that she had the guts to wear a bikini like that.

                She went on.  “You dropped your key card in the hall when you opened the door.  By the time I used it to come in, you were asleep on the couch.”  She leaned even closer, but I was still leaning away.

                I hesitated, licked my dry lips, and said, “Jocelyn.”

                “You got it.”  She lifted my arm and put it around her shoulder---I let her do it---then tried to cuddle closer.  I was still withdrawing.  One worry might have lifted, but I was still uneasy about the whole situation.

                After a few moments, I said, “Did I, ah, invite you in?”

                “Well, no, no,” she said, and pulled away a little.  My arm was still around her.  “I followed you up on the next elevator.  The elevator door opened just as you fumbled with your key card.  I saw you drop it.”

                “You went in right away?”

                “Well, I waited a few minutes.  But you were asleep on the couch by then.  I got the blanket from the room closet and put it over you.”

                “Uh, thanks.”

                Jocelyn looked into my eyes.  “I mean, when you talked to me, you seemed like a pretty good guy.”  Before I could say something about that, but she went on with, “They were all, go up, follow him, see where he goes.”

                “They?  Your friends?”

                She chuckled.  “We’re all here for a wedding tomorrow…today, now, I guess.  You’re not here for the Sutton-Copperman wedding, are you?”

                “Uh, no, I’m just traveling.  Are you a bridesmaid?”

                “No, sister of the groom.”  She laughed.  I came without an escort.  They said they’d set me up with someone else, but I told them not to bother, I’d just attend.  Hey, would you like to be my escort?”

                I looked at her, looked at my suitcase on the counter.  Did I bring a suit with me?

                I must have said it aloud, because Jocelyn said, “There’s a blue suit in a garment bag hanging in the closet.”

                “Umm…yeah.”  Some of the fog started to lift from my brain.  I wondered if I had something to drink after all.  But I remembered I wore the suit, a wedding two weeks ago, and I took the suit when I went on my travels right after.

                Jocelyn seemed---well, interesting.  But I wasn’t used to finding almost-naked women in my arm like this.  I removed my arm from her shoulder and started to stand up.  Jocelyn stood up with me.  I said, “You seem like a nice girl, uh, Jocelyn.  But I don’t know anything about you, and you, you don’t know a thing about me.”

                She smiled.  “What would you like to know?”

                I put my hand to my head.  “What time is it?”

                “Just a little after six, I think.  The wedding isn’t till one, if that matters.”

                I shrugged and sat down again.  Jocelyn sat down with me and took my arm.  She was bold, I thought.

                She said, “There’s a small café down next to the pool.  We could eat there.”

                I hesitated, then said, all right.

#

                I let her wear a white bathrobe from my luggage.  The robe came down to her ankles.  She wore that over her bikini, and she already wore a pair of flip-flop sandals.  I put on a fresh pocket T-shirt and the pants I wore last night, sneakers but no socks.

                Jocelyn said the café would let anybody dine there for breakfast, whatever they were wearing.  Other swimsuit-wearers were at other tables.  Jocelyn didn’t mind wearing what she wore.

                I ate light, toast and butter, and a glass of orange juice.  Jocelyn ordered the same.  But breakfast evolved into an excuse to chat with her.

                Jocelyn Sutton, her name was.  Twenty-nine, master’s degree in math, but working as a clerk and accountant, and sometime secretary, in an office downtown.  Her family lived nearby.  One of four sisters and a brother.  The youngest sister, Patricia, was the one getting married.  Jocelyn was the oldest.

                I was all too conscious of having agreed to accompany Jocelyn.  Or had I?  As we talked, it seemed to be a settled matter.

                I told her about myself.  Timothy Deacon, age thirty-one.  Older brother, older sister.  Plenty of money from our family drycleaning businesses, but not enough to live on, just enough to make things comfortable.  I was between engineering studies and just traveling.  I had job offers I might take, since I wasn’t keen on leading an idle life.

                And if I found someone---I steered the conversation away from that as it started to come up.

                Jocelyn chuckled when I made wisecracks, and I did the same when she said something jokey.  We were just getting into an interest in old comedy sitcoms when I heard some laughter, past her shoulder, towards the café door.

                Jocelyn turned.  Two girls, dressed in black jeans and blouses.  Both blondes---looked like a pair of identical twins, though the blouses were different colors, rose and lavender.  One of them had just pointed at us, and both started to giggle.

                Jocelyn turned back towards me and sighed.  “My sisters.  Janie and Joan.”

                I said the first thing to pop into my head.  “The three of you had the same initials?”

                “I know.”

                “My brother Thomas and sister Teresa used to claim my mail,” I said.  We smiled at each other.  Seemed like a bond between us.

                Then Jocelyn said, “Pat and Junior escaped it.”  She looked back, then raised a hand and gestured for them to come over.

                They did.  They squeezed into the small booth Jocelyn and I sat in, one on each side of us.  It made the booth crowded.  I could see their family relationship with Jocelyn in their faces.

                But they did seem, well, more shaped like women than Jocelyn.  Curves, padding, larger breasts.  I looked at Jocelyn again and wondered if it bothered her.

                The Sutton sister next to me said, “You must be…Tim?”

                “Jes, Jamie,” Jocelyn said, “this is Tim.  You remember we met him at the pool last night.”

                The other one---Joan?---giggled.  Jamie said, “Did you sleep well?”

                Jocelyn looked embarrassed, a little redness on her cheeks.  Joan and Jamie kept giggling.  Jocelyn said, “As a matter of fact, I slept very well.”  Before they could say another word, Jocelyn said, “Tim has agreed to accompany me to the wedding and reception afterwards.  I won’t need you arranging an escort now.”

                They both got serious for a moment.  Joan said, “Mark and Pat just got in now.  They’ve gone up to their room.  Mom and Dad are here, too, and they wondered where you’d gotten to.”

                “And what did you tell them?” I asked.

                Jocelyn kicked me under the table.  It wasn’t a hard kick.  She looked like she put a little anger over her embarrassment.

                Janie said, “We just told them Jocelyn was around somewhere.  No sense in going into details.”

                They both started giggling again.  Jocelyn said, in a very serious tone, “The ceremony is still at one, right?”

                “Yeah,” Joan said.  “You’re lucky you don’t have to be one of the bridesmaids like us.”

                Janie said, “You can just be here for the ceremony and then out the door.”

                “Oh, I expect we’ll be here for the reception,” Jocelyn said.  She looked at me, and said, “At least the beginning of it, enough to greet the bride and groom.”

                I just smiled and nodded.

                They both slid out of the booth.  Janie said, “There are a million things to do.  We’ve got to go get dressed and made up.”

                Joan said, “We’ll be out of the room by ten, so you can change then.  Bye, now.”

                They both left.  I turned back to Jocelyn and said, “They seem…nice.”

                “They’re something of a pain,” Jocelyn replied.  “But, what the hell, they’re family.”

                “What was that about setting you up with someone?”

                Jocelyn looked disgusted.  “Oh, they would have paired me up with someone.  My parents’ friend’s son Vince, maybe.”  She made a face at the thought.  She didn’t like this Vince person, I guessed.

                “They have escorts of their own?”

                “Worse,” Jocelyn replied.  “Husbands.”

                I nodded, then glanced at my wristwatch.  It was now a little before eight.  “So…I guess that means we’ve got some time to kill.  Would you like to come back to my room and watch me put on my suit?”

                She chuckled and said, “No, not yet, I figure we don’t have to be anywhere till noon at the most.  We can stroll around and chat while we walk.”

                “Right.”  I signaled to the waiter.  He brought the check---it wasn’t much---and I signed it onto my hotel bill.

                As we walked away, I said, “You said you slept very well.  But, where?”

                She smiled.  “I think I’ll let you figure that out, Timothy.”

                I thought I would try.

#

                We didn’t stroll for long.  We ran into a few people Jocelyn knew.  She introduced me to them.  But, with a couple of couples, she had trouble remembering just who they were---old family friends and acquaintances of some relative or other.

                We wound up back in my room before nine.  Jocelyn held back at the elevator.  “Tell you what,” she said.  “My room is one floor up.  I’ll get my bag and we can both change here.  Five or ten minutes, tops.”

                The thought of her changing where I might see was a pleasant thought, though by then we had both seen a good deal of each other.  “All right,” I said.  “I’ll wait right here for you.”

                It was closer to nine-thirty when Jocelyn came back, not by the elevator, but by the stairs and door at the end of the hall.  She carried a small white hard case and had some other clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, slung over her arm, and carried a pair of sneakers as well.

                Jocelyn looked a little redfaced and a little angry.  “Is everything all right?”

                “Oh, my sisters are big kidders,” she said.

                I held out my hand and took her bag and the sneakers.  “Just you look upset.”

                “My sisters.  What they said.  They don’t know you.”

                I said, “You don’t know me, you just know the little I told you last night and this morning.”  I smiled.  “I don’t know you that well, either.”

                “Well,” she said, and smiled, and with it some of the anger at least disappeared.  “I like what I see."

                I kept smiling.  While I waited, I’d gone down and opened my door, but left it almost closed.  I opened the door with a shove and invited her in.  I put her suitcase down on the counter next to mine.  She flung her clothes over the counter chair, over some of mine.  I bent down and put her sneakers on the floor.

                “You travel light,” I said.

                “I wasn’t planning on being here more than the night before.”

                I said, with as much seriousness as I could summon up, “You aren’t planning to have some big scene with your family at this wedding, are you?”

                Jocelyn looked confused---I thought she looked adorable with that expression---and then held up her hands and crossed them back and forth in front of her, palms out.  “No, no, nothing like that.  My sisters like to tease me.  Just now.  It rubbed me the wrong way.”

                Then she leaned towards me.  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Tim,” she said, “but, if someone asks you, if we did it last night, could you say we did?”

                “What?  But you didn’t---you said we didn’t.  Did we?”

                “You know and I know we didn’t.  But could you just say we did?”

                It seemed, well, a strange request.  I suppose I would have had sex with her if she had let me.  But saying so---  “Are you telling me someone in your family will come right up and ask if we had sex last night?”

                She blushed at that.  “No, not that, but could you, uh, imply that we did?”

                I ran through some thoughts about that, and after a couple of moments of thought, “I suppose I could do that.  All depends on how they---how I’m asked.  I’ll make the effort.”

                Jocelyn leaned and stretched as if to kiss me but seemed to retreat from the moment.  She smiled, then turned and opened her suitcase.  She pulled out a small white satchel, held it up, and said, “I’ve got to get ready.  You don’t mind me using your bathroom?”

                It wasn’t something I had thought of, but I suppose it was all part of what was going on.  “Go right ahead,” I said.  I rubbed my chin, and said, “I need to shave and shower, too.”  I ran my tongue around my mouth, and said, “I need to brush my teeth, too.”

                That produced another bright smile.  Something about how her face lit up---   She said, “Feel free to come in while I’m in there.”  She took off the robe and handed it to me.  “Nothing funny, now.”

                The bathroom was off the bedroom.  I noticed the bed covers weren’t mussed.  Wherever Jocelyn slept last night, it wasn’t in bed.

                I stripped back down to my underwear.  When I heard the water in the shower start to run, I went in.  Jocelyn stood in the shower under the water.  The translucent shower curtain didn’t conceal much---but, what with the bikini, I had seen it all.  The bikini itself was looped over the hand towel rack.

                Her bath kit bag was next to mine---I remembered putting it there last night.  I said, “I’m going to shave now.”

                “Thanks for the warning.”

                I went to the sink and turned the hot water faucet on.  When I did, Jocelyn gave out a little shriek.  “Problem?” I asked.

                “The hot water just turned cold for a moment.  Oh, there it is back.  Sorry.”

                I filled the sink with hot water, as I took my small travel can of shaving cream and my safety razor out.  It took about a minute or so.  I kept glancing over at Jocelyn in the shower.  She turned the water off, then peered around the edge of the shower curtain.  “Tim?  This may seem like an odd request, but…could I borrow your razor?”

                It seemed odd.  Kind of intimate.  Jocelyn went on, “It’s just that I’ve got more stubble on my legs than I expected---I mean, I shaved before I left, but didn’t bring anything---”

                “It’s all right.”  I rinsed my razor and handed it to her.  She reached out, one arm from behind the shower curtain, and took it.  Through the curtain, I could see her running my razor over her legs.

                I brushed my teeth and finished with that before she finished.  I said, “I’ll wait outside.  When you’re done, just rinse it off and put it on the counter.”

                “Whatever you say,” she said.

                It was just a minute or so after I came out that she came out.  Now she had a hotel white towel wrapped around her.  I smiled---in a way, she looked more interesting than when she wore the bikini, though she showed less skin.  She dried her hair with a smaller towel, and said, “Free, now.”

                It was just a matter of removing my underwear and a quick shower.  When I came out, wearing another towel, she had put on a dress.  The dress looked like a white sheet wrapped around her from below the shoulder to just below the knee.  Was there a little padding in the breast area? 

                If she was wearing makeup, I couldn’t tell.  I said, “You look great.”

                She twirled around, the skirt of the dress coming up and showing more knee and thigh.  “Thank you,” she said.  “Now it’s your turn.”

                I went back into the bathroom just to put my underwear on, but Joselyn helped with the rest.  After I tucked my bathroom kit into my suitcase, I picked out the wardrobe.  Undershirt, dress shirt, socks, pants, jacket, tie.  I appreciated her helping me straighten out the knot in my tie.  “Knotting ties is a skill I’ve never mastered.”

                “Well, you should look your best.  You haven’t done much tie-tying, have you?”

                I shook my head.  “Just on important occasions.  But I don’t go to many.”

                Jocelyn put her hand up and straightened out my hair---my hair was a little long---then put her hand to her own head.  “Is mine all right?”

                “Looks good.  Why do you wear it so short?”

                She chuckled.  “Long hair is a lot of maintenance.  One more thing my family doesn’t care for.”  Before I could say a thing about that, she said, “Shoes?”

                We both had shoes crammed in our luggage.  I had a pair of black dress shoes, shiny, but not polished.  I wore them about as often as I wore ties.  Jocelyn had a pair of half-Roman sandals, white, matching her dress, an inch or more of stiletto heels, straps coming half up her calves.

She and I sat together on the couch and struggled with our footwear.  “I didn’t bring many clothes,” she said.  “Just enough for the wedding.  I didn’t expect to stay long.”

                “And your bikini?”

                She flushed a little.  “My sisters wanted to go for a swim yesterday.  I bought it in the swimwear shop next to the pool.  I, uh, kind of bought it when they dared me to.”

                I saw the shop when I walked around last night.  “You knew the colors didn’t match, right?”

                “Just a kind of joke, I guess.  It was on the sales table.”

                We stood up.  I offered her my arm to help her up, and she smiled and accepted it.  She grabbed a tiny white purse out of her suitcase---except for some white panties, the suitcase was empty---then slipped her phone and a small wallet I had not noticed her carrying before.  “I’m ready,” she said.

                I glanced at my own phone as I slipped it into a suit pocket.  “Almost eleven.  I guess getting ready took longer than we thought.”

                She took my arm.  “I don’t feel much like waiting.  Let’s stroll around some more.”

                “As you wish, m’lady.”  She giggled, and we went to the door.

#

                Jocelyn was a little unsteady on her heels.  I took it to mean she didn’t wear heels that often, but I said nothing.  I kind of enjoyed having her lean on me for support.

                We took the elevator down to the lobby.  The crowd seemed large as we walked through.  “Any one you know?” I asked.

                “Well,” she said, “I don’t know my sister’s friends that well, but so far, no.”

                Just then there was a call from behind us.  A woman’s voice, calling, “Jocelyn!”

                Jocelyn tensed up---I could feel it.  “Problem?”

                “My parents,” she whispered.  “Play along.”

                An older gray-haired man, heavy and husky, wearing a tuxedo, held out his hand to me.  I shook it.  The woman, dark-haired and wearing a formal gown, held out her own hand.  I held it for a moment.  I noticed a strong resemblance Jocelyn and her mother, though her mother was older and heavier and a little shorter, plus longer hair.

                We exchanged pleasant talk in the way of introduction.  I got their names, Matthew and Melinda Sutton.  “Jocelyn, darling,” her mother said.  “The twins told me you found someone to escort you to the wedding.”

                “Oh, yes, mother.  This is Timothy Deacon, mother.  He agreed to be my escort.”

                “Timothy Deacon?”  Her mother spoke with a tone of suspicion.

                Jocelyn nudged me with her elbow.  I said, “Oh, yes,” and, choosing my words with care, “Once she asked me, I couldn’t say no.”

                We chatted.  I sensed they were grilling me for more information.  It was clear why Jocelyn had tensed up.

                The questions?  How long had I known Jocelyn?  Jocelyn answered that one, saying not long, but we felt a friendship bond right away.  (True.)  Where had we met?  I said I met her at the pool, and we chatted and learned a lot about each other.  (True, but I didn’t mention the short time frame, or the bikini, or her sneaking into my room.)  I filled them in on what I did and who I was, also knowing I was telling Jocelyn at the same time.

                It did not seem appropriate to say anything about what we had done last night.  Or not done.  Or maybe should have done.

                Her father impressed me as bluff and hearty, but her mother struck me as a little snooty.  Either way, they both grilled me.  I could sense Jocelyn getting more tense, her hands tightening on my arm.  It was clear the subject and the conversation drove her to distraction.

                When her parents started to ask about my intentions---and I wasn’t clear on them myself---Jocelyn cut in and said, “Look, Mom, Dad, there’s just a couple hours before the wedding.  Hadn’t we better go and find seats?”

                “Oh, I’m party of the ceremony,” her father said.  “Giving the bride away, all that.”

                “It is growing late now,” her mother added.  “I have to find Patricia and tell her a few things.”

                We nodded to them and broke loose.  They went one way and we went another.  When we were out of earshot, Jocelyn whispered to me, “Thanks, Tim.  That must have been hard.”

                “I did what I could,” I said, and sighed.  “It wasn’t easy.”  After a moment, I added, “Shouldn’t we be getting seats?”

                “There’s plenty of time for that,” Jocelyn replied.  “Let’s sit down and talk somewhere.”

#

                We found a couple of lounge chairs by the pool, out of splash range and almost out of sight from anybody else.  Jocelyn leveled with me.  “My parents are kind of upset about my not being married like my sisters.  I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

                “Wasn’t bad,” I said.  “Just skull sweat and picking and choosing my answers.”  I smiled.  “My mother, now, she would have told you all the trouble she went to have me.”

                “That bad.”

                “Parents can embarrass their children, any time, any place.”  We both laughed.

                But the laughter was cut off when we heard a shout of, “Jocelyn!”  It sounded like one of her sisters.  But when I turned, I saw it came from a fast-approaching older woman.  Long blonde hair and a Nineteen Sixties style dress.  Her face, but not her body, looked something like the rest of the family.  “Aunt Dora!” Jocelyn said and got to her feet.  I started to rise as Jocelyn did.

                “Jocelyn,” Aunt Dora said, “your sisters---well, there’s a mild emergency.  They want to see you.”

                Jocelyn glanced at me, then said, “All right.  Where are they?”

                “Follow me.”

                Jocelyn took a couple of steps, and I followed her, but Aunt Dora stopped and stepped between us---I almost bumped into her.  “Sir,” she said, “this is a family matter.”

                Jocelyn said, “Tim is my guest at this wedding.  If he doesn’t come with me---”

                “Oh, all right.”  She went ahead again.  “Follow me, both of you.”

#

                Aunt Dora led Jocelyn, with me behind, to a private room on the first floor.  Her two sisters, and a third girl who didn’t look like a member of the family, were there, dressed in fluffy-puffy pink bridesmaid dresses.

                The bride, Patricia, was there in an elaborate white wedding gown.  She had the family appearance, too.  But even with the gown, she had little resemblance to Jocelyn.  Where Jocelyn was thin, Patricia was heavier, and where Jocelyn was straight, Patricia was curved.

                Another woman, wearing jeans and sweatshirt, hovered around the bride, making sure the dress fit.  When Patricia saw Jocelyn and started to move, this woman said, “Stand still!”

                Patricia did.  “Jocelyn!” she said.  “It’s a disaster!  Marie Walton can’t make it!”

                “Who’s Marie Walton?” Jocelyn asked.

                “Patricia’s other bridesmaid,” Joan said.

                “We have three and we’re supposed to have four,” Janie added.

                “Can you sub for Marie?  We have the dress, we can pin you in it.”

                The sisters, Aunt Dora, and the other bridesmaid started to talk at once.  Jocelyn let them go for a few seconds, then held up her hands.  “Enough!” she said.  Then in a softer tone, she said, “I didn’t want to be a bridesmaid.  I specified that I would come if I weren’t a bridesmaid.  I hate formal weddings.  Can’t you do it with just three?”

                “No, it’s got to be four,” Patricia said.  “For the pictures.  We can’t get someone else on short notice.  Please, Jocelyn, please?”

                She wavered---I could see it in her face---and then said, “All right.  Okay.  Does Tim have to walk me down the aisle as a groomsman?”

                Before I could say I didn’t mind, Aunt Joan said, “We have the four groomsmen waiting in their tuxedos.  You’ll be with Vince.”

                “Vince?”  Jocelyn made a face.  “No.”

                They all started talking again.  It was difficult to follow, but I gathered that Vince was, first, here, and second, already in a matching tuxedo.  And, third, it would be rude to ask him to bow out and let someone else have the job.

                Janie said, “Jocelyn, you’re making a fuss over nothing, considering you met---”

                I could see where that was going, and so could Jocelyn, because she seemed about to flare up in a serious verbal explosion of anger.  Before she could, I stepped in and took Jocelyn by the arm.  “Ladies,” I said, “if I might have a private word with Jocelyn?”

                She was tense as I led her into a corner.  The others backed off.  I was afraid she would blow up at me for getting into this, but I knew I wanted to say what I had to say.  “Listen, Jocelyn, family is important.”

                “But---”

                “When I was starting college, my grandmother passed away.  It was exam week and I couldn’t attend because I had to stay for that.  It turned out it was the last big gathering of our relatives.  We’ve gone our separate ways and I haven’t seen many of them in years.”

                “You must see some of them.”

                “From time to time, but never together.  We don’t even have Thanksgiving and Christmas together anymore.”

                “But---”

                “We don’t know much about each other, Jocelyn, but I don’t want to be the cause of your blowing your relationship with your family.”

                She sniffed, and I thought she was about to cry.  What I said must have affected her.  I pulled a handkerchief out of my breast pocket---a clean handkerchief, put there for effect---and handed it to her.  I said, “I’m just saying your family is worth a little trouble.”

Jocelyn wiped the almost-tears from her eyes, and said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I can get by,” I replied.  “I’m sure I can find a seat.  We’ll meet up at the reception after.”

She nodded again, handed my handkerchief back to me, and went over to her sisters and aunt.  They were huddling around the bride.  In a voice I could hear, she said, “All right.  I’ll be your bridesmaid.  For the sake of the family.”

They all started hugging each other while making happy noises, and then the sisters dragged Jocelyn off to one side.  The woman in sweatshirt and jeans started measuring her.  I took that as my cue to step out.

#

                The Sutton-Copperman wedding was to take place in one of the large banquet rooms on the other side of the hotel.  I got there at about eleven fifty, ten of twelve.  A man was at the door.  He said, “I’m sorry, sir, but this wedding is by invitation.”

                “I’m with Jocelyn Sutton, the bride’s sister.”  I smiled.  “I, ah, don’t know if there was time to make arrangements.”

                The man consulted a clipboard list, running the tip of a pen along the names on it.  He tapped the pen on the clipboard and said, “Timothy Deacon, yes.  Is Ms. Sutton joining you?”

                “She’s a last-minute substitute for a missing bridesmaid.”

                He glanced at the clipboard again.  “Yes, that’s here too.  Go right in, Mr. Deacon.  Please take a seat on the bride’s side.”

                I nodded and went in.  Nobody else had come in, the room was empty except for the decorations.  I took the first seat on the aisle---Jocelyn would walk down it, and I wanted her to see me.  I made myself as comfortable as I could while I waited.

                I watched people filter in and find seats---I felt surprised at how some were dressed in casual clothes.  But most wore suits.

                I had time to think.  I tried to strip down the events of the last night and day down to their simplest components.  It was a surprise.  Here I was, alone, attending a wedding of total strangers, because a girl I met the night before had asked me.

                But Jocelyn---well, I smiled at the thought.  We talked, got comfortable---hell, we shared a bathroom and I even let her use my razor.  I had gotten to know her---and, I realized, I wanted to get to know her better.

                For now, though, I was stuck.

                I had forgotten my watch.  I could glance at my phone any time, but I didn’t want to dig it out of my pocket and make myself look like I was obsessed with either time or phone calls.  I had muted it before Jocelyn and I came down.

                But time went on, with or without a clock.  I saw Jocelyn’s mother led in and taken to a seat up front.  Somebody started playing organ music---Bach, I think---and heads started to turn.  The minister, a woman in religious robes, walked down the aisle, followed by someone who I assumed was the groom.  They took up positions on the raised platform almost-altar at the front of the room and turned and waited.

                Then the groomsmen and bridesmaids came in.  Jocelyn’s two sisters were with---their husbands, I assumed.  The one bridesmaid who was not a relative was with someone.  Jocelyn came last.  I noticed she wore her white sandals, while the others wore matching pink high-heel shoes.  The dress didn’t look like a good fit, either.

                Jocelyn was looking around the room---I realized she was looking for me.  She caught my eye, or I caught hers.  I raised my hand in a subtle wave and grinned.  She smiled back and seemed to relax.

                Had she been afraid I wouldn’t be there?

                The bridesmaids and groomsmen split up and lined up.  Jocelyn kept looking at me as the ceremony continued.  I kept smiling, and, once, raised my hands and gave her a thumbs-up gesture.

                I noticed her groomsman partner, a man about her height with dark hair and what looked like permanent five o’clock shadow---Vince?---caught her looking at me.  He looked, well, a little disgusted and angry.  I had gathered Jocelyn didn’t care much for him.  Did it mean anything?

                The music switched to “Lohengrin,” or “Here Comes the Bride.”  Some little girl was the flower girl, and after she went up the aisle Patricia followed, on the arm of her father.  They took their places.

                The ceremony was the standard “Dearly Beloved” text.  Even “obey” was included in the “love-honor-obey” part.  No reading of vows or any variation.  No objections were offered.

                Then came the “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” and there was scattered applause.  I felt a little choked up.  Whenever I went to a wedding, I always felt touched by it.  The bride and groom departed together, followed by the others.  It was a while before the rest of us started to leave.

#

                I went through the same routine at the reception door.  Most of the guests took seats, but I decided I would stand near the door and wait for Jocelyn to come in.  It was a long wait.  Some guests looked at me with curiosity, or some other emotion, but none spoke to me, they just looked away and found seats.

                After a long while they came out, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, along with the mother and father, and the bride and groom.  They must have known, or realized, who I was, but they looked at me with surprise.  One groomsman---Vince, again?---looked at me with what I took for distaste.  He walked with Jocelyn, but, I noticed, she did not hold onto his arm.

                Jocelyn saw me and broke away from the others.  To my surprise, she gave me a big hug.  The others stopped.  Jocelyn turned to them and said, “You go on ahead.  Let me talk to Tim.”

                She pulled me off to one side as the others went into the banquet room.  Vince was still looking daggers at me.   Jocelyn whispered, “I hope you haven’t been bored by all this.”

                “It was a beautiful ceremony,” I said.  “Are you glad you were there?”

                She smiled.  “I am.  Yes, come to think of it, I am glad I came.  I mean, I got some guff from my family about not being married.  I told them I hadn’t found the right man.”

                I thought I should steer the conversation from that---I still wanted to get to know her, but it was way too soon for that.  I said, “Jocelyn, I’m happy to have been here.  But you’ll be sitting up at the main table with your family and friends.  I thought of going back to my room and ordering room service for dinner."

                She chuckled, then grabbed my arm.  “Sounds good.  Let’s go.”  She pulled me along, a few steps before I got the idea and we walked along.  Her family was in the banquet room and it was just a matter of blowing by some late-arriving guests and wait staff.

#

                I had to help Jocelyn remove the pins that made that pink bridesmaid dress fit.  She wore the white tube dress under that dress, but she could slip out of that herself.  She unstrapped her sandals and then lay back on the bed, put her arms over her head, and sighed.  “It feels so good getting out of that outfit.  Both outfits.”

                I had tossed my own outfit onto a chair back---Jocelyn’s outfits were on the seat---and was down to my shorts and socks.  I sat down on an empty chair.  “I know what you mean.  I don’t dress up much, but when I do, I hate it.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  She sat up and started to fiddle with her bra, one of those strapless bras that fastened in the front.  Was there a little padding in the bra?  She saw me looking, then reddened a little, and then said, “Do you mind if I take this off?  It’s kind of uncomfortable.”

                “Just remember that I saw you in that bikini,” I said, smiling.  “That did not conceal as much as that bra does.  So long as you’re not embarrassed.”

                She smiled, a little weak smile, and unfastened her bra and pulled it to one side.  Her breasts jiggled as she fell back on the bed again---yes, her breasts were small, but they did jiggle.  “Thank you,” she said.

                After a few moments, I said, “Did you have a good time at the wedding?”

                “I, ah, I think so.  Yes.  Yes, I did.”  She sat up again.  “It was, well…it was good to see Patricia married.  You know, I thought my parents kind of threw Joan and Jamie at their future husbands, but Patricia, well, she found her man on her own.”

                “I hope it all works out for you.  Vince?”

                The look of distaste on Jocelyn’s face was greater than that same look on Vince’s face when he looked at me.  “Vince,” Jocelyn said.  “They’ve put him in front of me, on and off, since I was a teenager.  And he’s never so much as asked me on a date.  I mean, I have a closer relationship with, with…”

                She let that last sentence trail off.  I completed it, kind of.  “With me?”

                “Yeah, well, when you get down to it, yeah, I do feel close to you.”  Jocelyn looked down at herself, naked except for panties, and said, “Would I let you see me like this if I didn’t feel close to you?”

                “I did let you use my razor this morning,” I said.  “That’s close.”

                There was a knock on the door in the other room.  We ran out.  Jocelyn grabbed my robe, that she had worn before.  I looked down at my shorts and decided not to worry about what might be said.

                It was room service, all right.  I had the waiter put it down on the counter, pushing the suitcases to one side with my arm.  I tipped the waiter and he left.

                The meal was roasted boneless chicken breast, with sides of mashed potatoes and corn, and a side of green salad.  Jocelyn had let me pick out the meal, and I ordered the same for both of us.  We pulled up chairs opposite each other and sat at the counter and ate.

                I smiled and said, “I suppose this is kind of a date.”

                “Um, yesh,” she said, some salad in her mouth.  “I want to keep in touch with you.”

                I had finished my salad and was working on the chicken breast.  I said, “It depends on you, I think.  Now, my original plan was to stay here a week and sample the resort, ah, amenities.  Are you staying on?”

                She smiled and said, “I had planned to head home tomorrow.  A lot of my relatives are here for a while, and, well, I’d just as soon not run into them now.”

                “Right, then.  I could push on to the next hotel on my list, though I’d have to call and move my reservations up a notch.  Would you like to come with me?  One room or two?”

                “I would, yes.  One room.”  But before I could say anything more or say how my heart felt lighter at the thought of sharing a room with her, she spoke again.  “No, no, I’ve got to be back at work Tuesday morning.  I promised.”

                We were silent as we worked on our chicken with plastic utensils.  I had some time to think, and I reached a decision.  “I could drive you home and get a room somewhere nearby.”

                That seemed to throw her.  She put her plastic fork down, a piece of chicken still on it.  “You’re that serious about me?”

                “I’m serious about you.”

                Jocelyn blushed.  The blush ran down the skin, and I could see it through the robe she let hang open a little.  We ate in silence after that but spent our time looking at each other.  I had decided to do it.  It was a definite upping-of-the-ante in our brief relationship, but I felt I had to be somewhere near her.

                We finished at the same time.  Jocelyn took the dishes---room service came with plastic silverware but China plates---and put them in the sink in the kitchenette.  She said, “I’d like to get out of here before the reception breaks up.”

                I looked at the clock on the tiny oven / stove, off a few minutes but close enough.  It was now somewhere around four in the afternoon.  I asked Jocelyn, “How did you get here?”

                “Janie and Joan picked me up.”

                “Good.  I was afraid you had a car here.”

                “I could have driven.  It’s about forty miles.  If I had, we could have driven both.”

                I smiled.  “For the time being, I don’t want to leave your side.”

                She blushed again.

#

                It took ten minutes to pack, though we didn’t have much.  Jocelyn dressed in the T-shirt and jeans and sneakers she arrived in.  Her white dress and sandals went into her bag.  But she looked at the bridesmaid dress and said, “Maybe I should just leave it.”

                “We’ll put it in my garment bag,” I said.  “I’ll roll up my suit and stuff it in my suitcase.”

                “You’ll ruin your suit.”

                I chuckled and said, “I think it’ll survive.”

                I checked out by phone and left my room key on the counter.  I bent over to pick up my bags, then remembered something.  I ran into the bathroom and came out a moment later.  I had Jocelyn’s bikini in my hand.

                Jocelyn looked at it and said, “I don’t need that.”

                “You never know.  Anyway, the story of how you were wearing it when we met might be interesting to…someone, someday.”  Children came to mind, but I didn’t want to push that.

                She smiled.  Our cases were closed, but I stuffed the bikini into the back pocket of my pants.  Then I scooped up my bags and Jocelyn’s bags, too.  “Ready.”

                “We’ll take the back stairs.”

#

                Nobody was around in the parking lot.  My car was parked under a tree at the far end of the parking lot.  Jocelyn whistled when she saw my car---a white modern-day muscle car.  I said to her, “I swear, I just bought it to get from Point A to Point B.”

                “But it does it in style,” Jocelyn said.  “You didn’t buy it to pick up girls with, did you?”

                “No, but it’s been mentioned.  Would it have worked with you?”

                She laughed.

                I put our cases down, opened the trunk with the electronic key fob button, then put our cases in the trunk.  I went to the passenger door and opened it for Jocelyn to get in.

                Before she did, she said, “Before we go…”  Then she slipped her arms around me and kissed me.  It was warm and tender and meant a great deal to me.

                I don’t know how long it lasted.  When she and I let go of each other, I said, “We never did do it together.”

                “Maybe when we get where we’re going,” she replied, and climbed in.

                I went around to the driver’s side and got in.  We fastened our seatbelts.  I pressed the button and stepped on the brake pedal.  The engine turned over.

 We listened to the engine for a few moments.  I said, “Onward?”

                “Onward!” she said.

                I shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking spot, then shifted into drive and headed for the exit.  The future lay ahead of us.

#

                Jocelyn lived about forty miles away.  We left late enough in the afternoon for the sun to go down.  We headed east, back on the main highway, so the sun was at our backs.

                We talked, but I could see Jocelyn was nodding off.  She kept alert enough to watch traffic, but her conversation tended to lag.  I didn’t mind, realizing that that night before the wedding, when she was in my hotel room, she had not gotten much sleep.

                I did get Jocelyn to tell me she had spent the night sitting up in a chair, nodding off while sitting, waking up when she started to fall forward.  I told her to sleep, but she didn’t.

                I did try to tell her more about myself, as well as I could.  We were still kind of strangers.  I told her about my parents, once in the dry-cleaning business, but retired now.  I had worked my way through school, though my parents paid for most of it.  I left college with an engineering degree, and had job offers, but wanted to study.

                After a bump with debt in school, I tried to avoid it.  My student loans were paid off.

                “You too?” Jocelyn asked, the subject catching her interest.  “I didn’t go for further education because the cost put me off.”

                “I like the education,” I said, “but I like being debt-free better.”

                She nodded at that.  She told me she studied business administration but was working as a secretary right now.

                I had visited the town before, but, off the main roads, I was lost and Jocelyn had to guide me about which light to turn at and which road to take after that.

                We were deep in town when Jocelyn said, “There!” and pointed.  It appeared to be an apartment building---no, on second glance, it was an extended-stay hotel with a sign out front and everything.  I wondered if there were any vacancies.

                “Park there.”  Jocelyn pointed to a space next to a small yellow compact car.  “That’s mine,” she said.  “Not much, but it runs.  Had it since college.”

                I pulled in.  “Should I bring all the luggage in?”

                “Yours and mine both.  You’re staying with me.  Least I could do.”  She got a sudden look of surprise on her face, that faded into pleasure.  “Besides, that bridesmaid dress is in your garment bag.  I’ll have to hang it up.”

                So I collected all the luggage from the trunk and locked the car behind us.  I carried all the luggage inside as Jocelyn led me into the lobby.  A small and rather gray-haired woman, not so old, sat at the lobby desk, working the crossword puzzle on a page of the newspaper.  She looked up and said, “Jocelyn!  How was the wedding?”

                “Depressing,” Jocelyn said.  “I got roped into being a last-minute bridesmaid.”

They talked as if they were old friends.  The woman said, “Still, it all went well despite that.”  She looked me up and down.  “Who is…ah…?”

                I smiled at her.  Jocelyn touched my arm and said, “This is Tim.  Tim, this is Mrs. McVicar, who works the afternoon desk here most of the time.”  She slipped her arm in mine, despite my carrying luggage in my hand.

                Did Mrs. McVicar’s eyes widen just a little?  I felt a flush of embarrassment.  I started to speak, but Jocelyn tugged at my arm and led me away, down a short corridor towards the elevators.

                I said, “I was going to ask about vacancies.”

                Jocelyn pressed the elevator button.  “Right now, you’re staying with me.  What happened to that ‘never leave my side’ stuff?”

                “Every man sometimes needs a little solitude,” I replied, “and sometimes the toilet just isn’t enough.”

                She giggled and pulled me into the elevator as the doors opened.

#

                Jocelyn’s apartment was on the top floor, five floors up.  Room Five-Oh-Nine.  It proved to have a small kitchen and counter to the left, a shallow closet to the right, and a picture window straight ahead.  A small bathroom was visible through an open door between the closet and the window.  Just one room, with a large king-size bed up against the blank wall past the kitchen.  A TV on the wall opposite the bed.  Some furniture.  It was smaller than my hotel room at the resort.  I put the bags down next to the closet.

                “It’s not much, but I like it.”  Jocelyn pointed to the bed, which was unmade, the sheets coming up at the edges.  She kicked her sneakers off, then yawned and lay back on the bed and stretched out.  “Oh, I’d like to consummate our relationship, Tim, but I’m so tired.”

                “Don’t worry, I’m kind of done in myself.”  I stepped to the window, pulled the blinds back a little with my fingers, and looked out.  We were right above where our cars were parked.  I didn’t know anything about this neighborhood.  I hoped the cars would be all right, but the car was the one valuable thing in the car.

                The window faced east.  It was getting dark and streetlights had already come on.

                When I turned back, Jocelyn had fallen sound asleep.  She made a little snoring sound, more of a slight rasp, not happening with every breath.

                I said, “Jocelyn,” soft and quiet.  She didn’t notice or wake up, though I repeated her name several times.  I didn’t want to wake her.  I was tired, too.

                There was a padded armchair in a corner.  That would do, for now.  I pulled the covers over Jocelyn, taking care not to disturb her.  It wouldn’t do, I thought, to undress her. 

                I went to the armchair and sat down.  After I took my own sneakers off, I leaned back and clsed my eyes.

#

                I think we woke up about the same time.  I saw Jocelyn.  She looked around, a little confused, as if she wasn’t sure where she was.  But she saw me and must have remembered.  She smiled and relaxed.  It was early morning, and the sunlight shined through the blinds.

                Jocelyn sat up.  “It’s Monday morning.  I’ve got to go in to work.”

                The clock on the kitchen stove was way off.  I glanced at my phone.  “Just before six.”

                “Oh.  There’s plenty of time, then.  I don’t have to be there until ten.”  She slipped out of bed and got to her feet.  I stood up, too.  She looked at me, then said, “I gotta go.”

                “You do?”

                “I mean to the bathroom.”  I couldn’t recall the last time I went and couldn’t remember noticing if Jocelyn had gone.  She ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  I heard running water, which reminded me I had to go, too.  I rubbed my chin and thought I would need to shave as well.

                Jocelyn wasn’t in the bathroom for a long time, but by the time she came out I felt my bladder was about to burst.  I went in, and spent a little less time than she did, just enough to go and to wash my hands.  When I came out, I said, “What now?”

                “I’d suggest breakfast,” Jocelyn said, “but all I’ve got here is cereal and more cereal.  No milk, even.”

                “Anyplace nearby where I could buy you breakfast?”

                She smiled.  I loved it when she smiled at me.

#

                The place was small, a nook restaurant in a strip-mall plaza.  But it was a walk around the corner from Jocelyn’s apartment.  The breakfast food was pretty good, too.

                I managed to find clean clothes in my luggage.  I had a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt and clean socks and underwear.  But I was out of clean clothes after that and needed to do laundry sometime soon.  Jocelyn told me there were coin-operated machines in the basement.  My formalwear, suit and shirts, needed a dry-cleaning, but I spotted an in-an-hour place as we walked down to the café.

                Jocelyn dressed for work from her closet.  A tight pair of gray slacks and a white blouse.  She looked pretty good in them, to me at least.  I spent a lot of time looking at her as we sat together in the café booth.  She looked good to me, and I said so.

                She blushed and said, “Aw, the way you talk.”

                We didn’t say much else as we ate our bacon-eggs-toast.  It started to sink into me that I was getting deep in.  Was Jocelyn thinking the same thing?

                It was a short walk back.  As we stepped into the parking lot, Jocelyn glanced at her phone and said, “Might as well leave from here.  See you in the evening.”

                “I’ll be counting the hours and doing the laundry.”  I grinned at her.  “Anything you’d like washed?”

                “I, ah…I think I had better be there.  But you can do some of mine, I guess.  There’s a laundry basket in the bathroom.”  I nodded.  I saw it.  “Don’t wash my delicates.”

                Jocelyn rummaged in her purse---a bigger one than the small thing she carried back at the wedding, a good piece of leather goods---and pulled out a small blank business card.  She scribbled something on the card and handed it to me.  “Here’s the number and address for work, but don’t call unless you have to.  Oops!”  She grabbed the card out of my hand and scribbled something else.  “My cell phone number,” she said as she handed the card back.

                She then handed me a key.  “This is my spare room key.”

                “Yes, but---”

                “You’re staying here with me.”  She opened her car door---the old-fashioned kind of lock and key---and started to climb in, then stood up, and kissed me on the cheek.  I touched my cheek and smiled.

                She started the car, then backed out of her spot, and drove off.  I waved.  I could see her looking at me through the rear-view mirror, until the car disappeared behind some bushy trees.

                I looked at the key in my hand, then tossed the key into the air and caught it.  I slipped the key in my pocket and went inside.  There was much to do.

#

                Mr. Metzinger, the man on the front desk in the morning, had a note from Mrs. McVicar about me---I did not ask what it said.  But I learned there was room available on the top floor, the fifth floor, same floor as Jocelyn’s room, at the end of the hall.  It was larger, with a separate bedroom, but the amenities were the same.  Room Five-Two-One.  I took the room, sight unseen, on a six-month lease.

                After I moved my luggage down to the room, I went back and sorted out her laundry.  If I was settling in for a long stay---I thought I was---I wanted at least one clean pair of pants a day.  I picked up Jocelyn’s dirty laundry, piled mine on top of it, and went and found the laundry room.

                I left Jocelyn’s bridesmaid outfit hanging in her closet.  If she wanted it cleaned, I could take it to the dry cleaners with my suit, which I hung in my closet.

                It took about an hour and a half to wash and dry three separate loads of laundry, jeans, T-shirts, and whites.  There were five washers and five dryers, and a change-making machine to convert my dollars into quarters.

                The time I waited with the laundry gave me time to make a few phone calls.  Since my plans had changed---boy, had they changed!---I canceled several hotel reservations.  I had some boxes of clothing in storage, and I arranged to have them sent to this extended-stay hotel.

                Also, I knew some people and businesses in town.  I put out some feelers about jobs.  I had money, but I knew I’d need a job, to put some more short-term money in my pocket.

                Once I was back with the clean and dry laundry, I took it to Jocelyn’s room and sorted and folded it.  I made her bed---I thought of washing the sheets and hadn’t thought to ask if the hotel would provide clean linen on any regular basis.  I did some tidying up around the room, cleaned up the kitchen and bathroom, and washed some dirty dishes in the sink.

                When I heard the key in the lock, I stood up and waited.  When Jocelyn saw the cleaned-up apartment, clean dishes on a drying rack, clean laundry folded and on the bed, she clapped her hands together and smiled.  “When we met up, I didn’t think I was getting a domestic.”

                “I did have some time on my hands,” I replied.  “Before you get used to it, I’m looking for some work, so it won’t be for always.”

                Jocelyn looked around.  She saw the bridesmaid’s dress hanging in the closet, then looked below it, where I had put her piece of luggage.  “I, ah, don’t see your bags.”

                “I took a room down the hall.  It seemed the thing to do.”

                She half-smiled----disappointment?  But then she said, “Okay, Tim.  You rented your own room.  But you’re spending the night here.  In bed.  With me.”  She pointed at the bed and then at herself.

                It made me happy to think of that.

                Jocelyn then said, “You haven’t started dinner yet, have you?”

                “I could have cooked something, but I didn’t go shopping.  You know the town better than I do.  Any place you’d like to eat?”

#

                We wound up at the same hole-in-the-wall café we had breakfast in.  Neither of us ate lunch.  We dined on another round of boneless chicken, with potatoes-and-gravy and a veggie sampler.  A reasonable meal for a reasonable price.

                Jocelyn said, “I eat here when I can afford it, but my budget doesn’t stretch enough to make it an everyday thing.”

                “Breakfast and dinner,” I said.  “But what about lunch?”

                “I get a sandwich out of the machine at work.”

                “It’s no wonder you’re so thin,” I said.  “I’m paying tonight.”

                “I don’t want to get into that the-guy’s-gotta-pay situation.”

                “I can afford it, don’t worry.”  I paused, for effect, then added, “When I run out of money, then you can pay.”

                We both chuckled.  We might have discussed our finances and money right after that.  But just then her phone rang---one of those chime tunes that plagued cell phone use---and she glanced at the screen and said, “Oh.  Oh, God.”  She then touched the screen and put the phone to her ear and said, “Hello, mother.”

                I couldn’t make out the words from her mother’s end, but the tone seemed calm, maybe…resigned?  I could hear Jocelyn’s replies.  “No, mother, I’m not at the resort, I came home.  Yes, I know, but I didn’t have any reason to stay once the ceremony was over.  Besides…”

                Jocelyn listened to a lengthy monologue without saying a thing.  From her expression, she seemed to grow more unhappy.

                When the monologue wore down, Jocelyn said, “Yes, mother, I know, but I’m almost thirty now and I am living my own life.  I’m not interested in Vince.  I don’t care what he said.”  Then after her mother spoke again, a brief sentence, she looked startled, and said, “They told you.”

                After another comment, Jocelyn said, “Yes, I’m here with him now, we’re having dinner.”  Her mother said something, and Jocelyn tried to interrupt her, but her mother went on speaking.  “No, mother---mother---mother---I don’t want to talk to---”  Then, in a softer tone, she said, “Hello, Patricia.  Congratulations.”

                Patricia spoke in a higher pitched tone, but I still couldn’t make out a word.  Jocelyn said, “Yes, what?  It’s hanging in my closet.  She wants it back?  Why?  She didn’t wear it.”  She held her hand over the phone and said, “Marie Walton wants her dress back.”

                “I’m sorry,” I said.

                Jocelyn went on, “Yes, I’ll send it back, or on, or whatever.  Text me an address and I’ll ship it to her.  But not right now, sometime soon.”  After a moment, she added, “All right, Patricia.  Happy honeymoon and say goodbye to mother.”

                She disconnected, put the phone back, and sighed.  “Well, Tim, I love my family, but sometimes…well, you’ve met them.”

                I grinned and said, “Someday you’ll have to meet my family.  Think of that.”

                She seemed to cheer up some at that, and we got back to our dinner.

#

                I showed Jocelyn my room, not to different from her room except for the extra bedroom.  Then we walked back to her room down the corridor.  I stopped and reached into my pocket.  “Here,” I said when I handed it to her.  A room key.

                “For me?” Jocelyn said.

                “Fair’s fair,” I said.  “I have a key to your room, so you should have a key to my room.”

                “I’m reminding you again, you are spending the night here in my room.”  Her tone was firm.  We reached her door---though we had taken it slow, it still wasn’t a long walk---and she unlocked her door and let the door swing open.  “You first.”

                I went in.  Why would I expect any change?  We had been gone for about an hour, and the room looked the same as when we left.  Jocelyn faced me and started to unbutton her blouse.  “I’m going to take my clothes off and get into bed.  I expect you to do the same."

                “What about bathing?”

                “Maybe later.”  She smiled.

                She had gotten to the top button of her blouse just as I started to pull my shirt over my head.  But her phone rang.  I pulled my shirt down as she stopped and looked at the phone screen, and said, “Damn.”  She shook her head, looked around the room, then said, “Er, Tim, can I take this in the bathroom?  It’s kind of private.”

                “Ex boyfriend?” I asked, wondering, curous.

                “No, mother again.”  She went into the bathroom and closed the door.  I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my sneakers---new insoles, I reminded myself, first chance---then just waited.

                From where I sat, I could hear Jocelyn talking, but nothing on the other side.  It was muffled enough that I didn’t hear words.  Her tone was calm, reasonable.  I felt a little relief.  By now I was so into Jocelyn that I worried I might damage our relationship if I didn’t get on with her family---or maybe if I did.  But things seemed calm, at least as far as phone conversation went.

                Jocelyn came out.  While she had been in there, she had removed her blouse.  She stood a moment, glancing back at the bathroom, then said, “I’m beat.  It’s hard.  Hard.”

                “If you don’t want to continue---”

                “What?  No!”  She had forgotten for a moment, but now she remembered.  “Let’s go on.  But, well, just hold me for a while.”

                So we took off the rest of our clothes.  I saw everything I hadn’t seen when Jocelyn wore the bikini, and I don’t know how much of me she had seen before.  But nothing surprised me.  I could see she was a woman, maybe skinny and boyish in shape, but a woman.

                We ditched our gear on the counter.  I muted my phone and she did the same with her phone.  No awkward interruptions.  We climbed into bed from opposite sides.  She reached up to a switch and dimmed the lights---down, but not out.  I put my arm around her as she slipped up against me, her head against my shoulder.  It felt like some of the hair on her legs had grown in again.  Feeling it against my legs, it gave me a thrill.

                Jovelyn pulled the sheets up over us.  “I can see you’re ready,” she said.

                “My penis lives a life of its own,” I replied.  She chuckled but made no further move.

                After a bit, I sniffed, and said, “Should I wash these sheets tomorrow?”

                “You must get a new set from housekeeping.  You’ll be charged.”

                After a time, lights dimmed but still on, we still had not made a move.  “What time is it?” I asked.

                “About ten.  Plenty of time if you still want to make love to me.”  I felt her hand brush against my crotch under the sheets.  “You still want to.”

                Then she rolled over and then we lay, side by side, facing each other.  I moved and rolled over onto her, then said, “Should I be wearing a condom?”

                “Mood killer, you.”  She laughed and said, “I’m wearing a diaphragm.  Now, no more talk, get to it!”

                I did.  It was fantastic.  We went at it, several times.  I tried my damnedest to keep going, as long as I can.  I’m not sure how long I lasted.

                It wasn’t a matter of making love to just anybody---it was her.  I wanted to.  I wanted to keep going.

                Afterwards, we lay together, much as we had before, but now spent and exhausted.  “I don’t know quite how to put it,” Jocelyn said.  “But that sure worked for me.”

                “Me, too.  Maybe best ever.  No, no maybe, it was the best ever.”  After a moment, I added, “Do you want to try another go at it?”

                “Mmm…let’s save something for the rest of our lives, Tim.”  So we did.  Soon we were fast and well asleep.

#

                In the morning, Tuesday morning now, when Jocelyn came out of the shower, I noticed she was wearing my old bathrobe, that I had let her wear back at the hotel.  I’d forgotten about it, it must have been stuffed somewhere in her luggage.  It was now about six in the morning.  Early light came through the window blinds.

                “I left my clean clothes down in my room,” I said.

                “You’ll have to start leaving some here,” Jocelyn said.  She smiled.  “You left your shaving kit here.  Shave now, dress in your dirty clothes, go down to your room and shower.”

                I sniffed at myself.  “Yeah.  We had a pretty good workout last night, didn’t we?”

                “We sure did.  I’d have another one right now, but I’ve got to get to work.  Tonight again.”

                That made me smile again.  It felt good to be smiling.  I said, “Are you sure we didn’t get married sometime over the weekend?  It feels like we’re talking like a married couple.”

                “I don’t think my parents ever talked like this.”  She was smiling, too.  She had dropped the robe on the mussed-up bed and was putting her bra on.

                “Mine, neither.”  I picked up my dirty clothes and started to dress in them.  “Maybe it was some sitcom or other.”

#

                In the booth at the strip-mall restaurant, we spent a lot of time staring into each other’s eyes.  Jocelyn looked the same.  Same outfit, except that her top was light blue.  She worked as a clerk and accountant and secretary.  Maybe they had a dress code or something.

                The waitress, about our age, recognized both of us, and she already knew Jocelyn.  “You’re coming in more often,” the waitress---Marie, her tag read---said to Jocelyn.

                “I’m hungry and Tim is still paying.  Right, Tim?”

                I nodded.

                Marie asked, “This your boyfriend?”

                “I sure hope so,” Jocelyn replied.  She held her hand out over the table.  I took it.

                “Well, we have a discount program for regulars.  I’ll get cards for both of you.”

                After Marie took our orders and went away, I said, “I’ve got to find a gym.  I need to stay in shape.”

                “I’ve got a membership,” Jocelyn said, “but I skip sessions.  We’ll go tonight, if you want.  You were in great shape last night.”

                “I need to work at it to stay in great shape.  I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

                “Mmm.”  She smiled.  “I wish I could spend the day with you.  I don’t have another free day till Sunday.”

                “Working weekends?”

                “This Saturday, yes.  I promised to come in so I could…”  She frowned, and said, “So I could go off to my sister’s wedding for the whole weekend.”

                “Hard.”

                “I can manage.  Oh, and I’ve got to take that damned bridesmaid dress to the dry-cleaner before I send it back.”

                “The one in the plaza down the road?”

                “They’re all right.  I don’t have much to dry-clean.  You said your parents were in the dry-cleaning business?”

                I nodded.  “It’s more of a family thing.  I’ll take my suit and your dress there after you go to work.”

                “Works for me.”  Jocelyn giggled, and said, “Here we are, planning our domestic duties, and we just met a couple days ago.”

                “If you want, I could buy an engagement ring today and order some wedding rings.  Does this state have a waiting period?”

                “I’m not sure.”  After a moment, she shook her head.  “Tim, Tim, I love you but I’m not ready for marriage that soon.”

                “I love you, too, Jocelyn.”  It felt strange and good to say it.  We had talked of making love, but not of love itself.

                Marie came with our breakfast platters, eggs and home fries with a single slice of bacon.  She heard what we had said.  “Well, well, are congratulations in order?”

                “Just for being together.  We’re not going further, at least not that fast.”

                Marie smiled.  “Matter of time, then.”

                We ate and went back to looking into each other’s eyes.

#

                We separated in the parking lot again.  I had a good number of things to do.  I didn’t hear anything about my job search, no texts, no e-mails.  But my money was still good, so I picked up a few things right away.

                I took the bridesmaid dress and my suit to the dry cleaners.  They would be ready on Thursday.  The older manager knew, or seemed to know of, my family and their drycleaner business.

                Meanwhile I picked up a gym outfit and a gym bag, in case we decided to go.  Plus, a few other things.  And I stopped in one store to get something else.

#

                I waited for Jocelyn in her apartment.  I had put the gym outfit on, long loose-fitting plants and a loose shirt, and a sweatband around my head.  Jocelyn smiled at it.  “Very elegant,” she said.  “I’ll change and we’ll go.”

                Jocelyn slipped into the bathroom to change into her outfit, much the same as mine but a tank top.  She tugged at the loose and stretchy material and said, “If I was one of those big-breasted girls, I’d need a sports bra.”

                “You look fine just the way you are.  You look great.”  I slipped my arms around her and held her close.

                She seemed happy with that, but she said, “Then why go to the gym at all?”

                “Takes work to stay just the way you are.”  We broke out of our embrace, and I said, “Before we go…”

                I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small jewelry store box.  Jocelyn recognized it.  She said, “Tim, I said I wasn’t---”

                I dropped to my knees and opened the box.  Inside---it wasn’t a ring, but it was an elegant woman’s wristwatch.  Jocelyn took the box from me and said, “Tim, I don’t---I mean---I’m---uh…”

                “You don’t have to say anything.  I know you’re not ready for a proposal.  I’m just letting you know my intentions are---putting my money where my mouth is, I guess.”

                She held the box for a moment, looking at the watch, then at me, then at the watch.  Then she snapped the box lid closed and put her arms around me and kissed me.  “Tim, I love it!”

                I fell back a little and almost fell over.  “Glad of it,” I said.

#

                We worked out at the gym for more than an hour.  Most of the time we lifted weights, and we also walked treadmills side by side.  We drove to and from the gym in Jocelyn’s car---the first time I let her drive me around.  We snacked on some healthy nutrition bars between exercise bouts.

                It was after ten, very dark, when we got back to the hotel.  Mrs. McVicar was on duty again.  She smiled at us.  “You two are getting along well.”

                “That’s a good thing,” Jocelyn said, “because we are spending more time together.”

                Mrs. McVicar smiled.  “In your rooms, I gather.”

                “It’s comfortable and reasonable,” I said.  “Hey, I forgot to order clean sheets.  Jocelyn tells me we must ask.”

                “We’ll have a set for you in the morning.  Your room?”

                “Er, Jocelyn’s.”  I had not yet slept in my room.  I felt unease.  How much did I want to say to Mrs. McVicar, a stranger?  To tell the truth, I wanted to brag to people I knew.

                None were around.  I sort of giggled and we moved on to the elevators.  Jocelyn held onto my arm and snuggled close.  Then she sniffed and wrinkled her nose.  “Ew,” she said, a short syllable.  “I can smell your workout.”

                “As long as we’re bringing it up,” I said, “you could use a shower, too.”

                “Why don’t we adjourn to our separate rooms and clean up, then get back together after?”

                I had to agree.  If we showered together---well, getting cleaned up wouldn’t be on our minds.  There was plenty of time.  But as we got on the elevator, my stomach rumbled.  Those energy bars weren’t all that filling.

                Jocelyn must have felt it or sensed it.  She pulled her phone out.  “I’ll order a pizza,” she said.  “It’ll take thirty, forty minutes to get here, enough time to get clean.  They know me and know my card.”  She smiled.  “I can pay for this meal.  About time, too.”

                On the way up, we discussed what we liked as pizza toppings.  It was a brief discussion.  One pizza with everything had its place, but it was too much.  We settled on one medium-sized pizza, half pepperoni, half just cheese.  She called as she went in the door.

#

                I cleaned up in about ten minutes and put on a clean pair of pants and a clean shirt and clean underwear.  No socks, just slipping my feet into my sneakers.  I made a mental note to look for slippers, along with a new robe if Jocelyn kept mine, and maybe some fresh socks and underwear.  I knocked once on Jocelyn’s door, then let myself in with the key she gave me.

                Jocelyn was on the phone.  She said, “Gotta go, bye,” the moment she saw me, and disconnected.  She hadn’t yet changed.  She seemed annoyed.

                “Problem with the pizza?”

                “No, that was my mother.”  She sighed.  “She wants me---wants us---to come to dinner on Sunday.”

                “She wants me there?”  I thought for a moment, and said, “When you think about it, it’s obvious, sooner or later, that we’ll have to meet each other’s relatives.  Didn’t I meet your relatives at the wedding?  They seemed all right.”

                “Yeah.  They seemed all right.”  Jozelyn sighed again.

                “I mean, I’m not insisting you meet my family---it’ll happen, sooner or later.  But, for now, I’m willing to go to dinner with you and meet your family there.”

                “Dinner.”  She let out another sigh, then said, “Pizza.  Go down to the lobby, Tim.  They won’t bring the pizza up to the room.  Don’t tip them more than five dollars, though.”

                I got my wallet and pulled out five one-dollar bills---reminding myself to visit a bank or ATM and get some pocket change cash.  I leaned over and kissed Jocelyn on the cheek, then stuffed the in my pocket.

#

                It was more like forty minutes waiting.  I sat in the lobby and struck up a brief conversation with Mrs. McVicar.  I was a little uneasy about what to say, but, to my great relief, after a few question-hints from her and a few evasive answers from me, she left me alone with a gentle smile.

                I picked up the pizza and tipped the woman who brought it in with my five ones, then brought it up to Jocelyn’s room.

                Jocelyn sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her still-wet hair.  She wore my bathrobe again.  “If you like that robe so much,” I said, “you can have it.”

                She tugged at the robe lapels---I noticed she wore nothing under it---and said, “I don’t mean to deprive you.  It must be awkward to dress up every time you walk down from one room to another.  In the morning after.  Got any pajamas?”

                “I’ve got a couple sets in the clothes I’m having sent here…I think.  I don’t wear them often.”

                “Well, now, it’s my turn to buy something for you.  First chance.  You’ve spent a good deal on me and I should spend something on you.”

                “You paid for the pizza.”  I put the box down on the counter.  “We can discuss mutual finances after we eat.”

                We ate all but two slices of pizza, plain ones without pepperoni.  Jocelyn slipped the box onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.  There wasn’t much in it, just a few cans of soda and some milk and juice.  “Looks like I’ll have to shop for groceries.  Hadn’t occurred to me before.”

                “I’ll work up a list.  Fill your own fridge, too.”  She slipped off the robe.  “Right now, let’s go to bed.”

                I was still dressed in full.  “You’re not giving me a fair chance.”

                “Well, take it off, take it all off.  Come to bed.  I’m ready if you are.”

                I did.  By the time I climbed into bed next to her, she was drooping.  She leaned against me and closed her eyes.  No making love tonight, I thought, but I was having trouble keeping my eyes open by then…

#

                When I woke up, I wondered where I was before I remembered.  I was alone in bed.  I sat up and looked around.  The room lights were on.  Jocelyn sat in her---my---bathrobe, on the other side of the kitchen counter.  She hunched over, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

                She saw that I was awake and smiled.  “I’m taking you up on last night’s offer.  There’s a market down the street.  Pick up a few things after I leave for work.”

                I got out of bed and groaned.  I felt stiff---all the exercise last night, I guessed.  “Ouch!”

                “A little sore?”

                “A little.  No, a lot.”  I stretched some but still ached as I walked around the bed and towards her.  I looked at the list.  I could read upside down well enough.  Bread, milk, eggs, orange juice, tomato juice, some canned fruits and vegetables.  I said to her, “Any preference for brand names?”

                “No, store brands are fine.  Get what you want, though---fill your fridge, too.”  She chuckled.  “Tim, you’re making my life easier.”

                “Just remember I’ve got a few prospects, and if a good job comes along, I won’t have all this free time.”

                “Someday I’ll quit my job and have more time.”  Jocelyn looked at me, face all serious.  “Tim, I would never let myself be a drag on you.  I will always be doing something.”

                I walked around the counter and leaned over behind her to kiss her on the neck.  But then I yelped and jumped.  I was pretty sore.  I pointed to my neck.

                Jocelyn got up and put her hands on my neck.  She squeezed.  Damned if the sore muscles didn’t feel better.  She gave me a brief massage and then sat down again.  “With me, it was my leg.”  I started to bend down to rub the leg, but she said, “No, don’t.  It’s fine.  It’ll wear off.”

                “We could squeeze in a couple of exercise nights and we better get used to it.”  I smiled.  “In a while, I’ll be okay.  Sick day for you?”

                “No, I’ll keep up.”

                That seemed to settle that.  I ached, from the exercise.  And if Jocelyn did---  I said, “Sit down on the bed, and I’ll kneel at your feet and have a go massaging your leg.”

                “Calf,” Jocelyn said, but got up and went to the edge of the bed and sat down.

                I knelt as I said I would---I thought of proposing while I was on my knees, but I had agreed with Jocelyn that she wasn’t ready yet.  I rubbed her calf with both hands.  She said, “Ouch!” once, then seemed to enjoy it.  Then she stood up---

                We made love standing up.  It was so unexpected.  I hadn’t dressed and she just had my old robe, so it was easy.  It didn’t last even a tenth as long as our first session, but it was great.

                Afterwards, we sat down on the bed, Jocelyn in my lap, both of us breathing hard.  When we could manage to talk again, Jocelyn said, “Thanks.”

                “You’re welcome.  And thank you, too.”  I had deflated a little, but I said, ‘Care to have another go at it, in bed this time?”

                “No, I’ve got to get ready.  Work, you know.”  She glanced at the stove clock, seemed to do a little adding-up in her head to get the correct time, then said, “I think we’ll have to skip breakfast this morning…unless…”   She got up off my lap and went to the refrigerator and pulled the pizza box out.  She opened it and said, “One slice each?  Microwave?”

                We ate the pizza slices cold.  Pizza, cold or hot, wasn’t one of my favorite things, but I enjoyed eating it with Jocelyn.  Jocelyn cleaned up, folding the pizza box and shoving it in a small trash can under the kitchen sink.  “When’s garbage pickup?”

                “Friday,” Jocelyn said, “unless you arranged for maid service.”

                “I’m your maid,” I said, but I couldn’t remember if I’d arranged for maid service for my own room.  I was sure she had not.

                Jocelyn moved on.  “I’m going to trust you to do all my laundry right now.  But be careful.  Machine wash the delicates but hang them up to dry.  There’s a clothesline in my bathroom.”

                “I, ah, think there’s one in mine, too.  Which ones are the delicates?”

                “Check the label.”  Jocelyn leaned in and kissed me.  “At least I feel limbered up now.”

                I stretched my arms.  “Me, too, come to think of it.”

                “One good thing, then.”  Jocelyn smiled.  “Let’s get going.  We can bid farewell to each other in the parking lot.”

#

                Mr. Metzinger explained what I hadn’t taken in.  No, my room didn’t have maid service, did I want it?  (No.)  Garbage was my responsibility.  There was a chute near the elevators.  Jocelyn’s fresh linen, at my expense, was ready, and there was another chute for the dirty sheets and towels.

                Also, two boxes had come for me, first thing in the morning.  I thanked him, told him I was expecting more boxes, and took the boxes and the linen up to my room.  The boxes were large, but light and easy to carry.

                The boxes held some of my clothes, not all, but some.  Pants, dress and casual, and a couple pairs of jeans, in one box, and socks and underwear in the other.  My casual shirts hadn’t yet come---and to my delight, I found two sets of blue silk pajamas in with my socks and underwear.  No more worry about what to wear while walking down between our rooms.  I figured the rest would catch up with me later, and in the meantime, I could make do.

                I gathered up the dirty clothes I hadn’t washed before.  Jocelyn had a couple of silk nightgowns.  I thought they were a little dusty, maybe not dirty.  I thought, too, I had better check before I washed them.

                I managed to take care of Jocelyn’s “delicates,” and strung them out on my laundry line, where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.  That took care of my morning.  In the afternoon, I did some shopping.  I found a discount clothes store where I bought a cloth bathrobe and slippers.  Then I did the grocery shopping, Jocelyn’s and my own.

                I got back as it started to get dark.

#

                The evening wore on, and Jocelyn didn’t show.  When the last trace of light in the window was gone, I started to wonder where she was.  I kept looking out the window, to see if her car pulled up next to mine.  I kept busy by changing the sheets on Jocelyn’s bed and putting the clean sheets on.

                It was then that Jocelyn’s room phone rang.  I had not given it much thought.  I had my own phone.  I picked it up and said, “Hello?”

                “Hello, Mr. Deacon.”  It was Mrs. McVicar from the desk downstairs.  “Jocelyn gave me a message to pass to you.  She’ll be working late and you should go out and eat something yourself.”

                I hadn’t eaten more than another energy bar for lunch.  “I wonder why she didn’t call me,” I said.

                “Well, first,” Mrs. McVicar said, “personal calls on the house phone are a dollar for the first minute and fifty cents for every minute after---but you can have anybody leave a message at the front desk.”  I heard her chuckle.  “She’s a dear, but she doesn’t want to run up her bill.”

                “Thank you,” I said.  “First?”

                “Yes, first.  The second thing is, she told me that the two of you had exchanged a lot of information, and that she had given you her cell phone number, but she couldn’t remember if you had given her yours.”

                “Oh.”  Had I?  I should have.  I said, “Thank you, ma’am.  I’ll call her.”

                “She said not to, she’ll be busy.  You have the clean sheets you ordered for her bed?”

                “Yes.  I was just putting them on.”

                “You know where to put the dirty sheets, Mr. Deacon?”

                “The chute down by the elevators.”

                “The one marked ‘LAUNDRY.’”  She chuckled.  “Have a nice night.”

                I finished with the bed, then scooped up the dirty linen and carried it out the door and down the hall.

#

                I must have fallen asleep, sitting up in her chair, because I woke up when Jocelyn slipped her arms around me from behind.  “Ooh, silk!” she said, rubbing her hand on the pajamas I wore.  “I like it.  I’ll slip into a silk nightgown, and we can rub them together.”

                I looked up at her and smiled.  “You’re very chipper for someone who had to work late.”

                “Worth it for the overtime, Tim.  I may do it tomorrow again.  I can use the money to treat you to…something.  I’ll think of something.”  She let me go and said, “Did you have any dinner?  I’m hungry.  Did you shop?”

                “Yes and yes,” I said.  “I ate, too, and there’s a chicken breast and sides in the oven with your name on it.  The other one is mine.”  I got two takeout chicken dinners at the hole-in-the-wall restaurant.  I was hungry but decided not to eat till she got home.

                “A romantic dinner for two, late at night.”

                I glanced at the clock.  It wasn’t that late, a little after nine.  I pulled the dinners out of the oven and put them on the counter.  Maybe the chicken had dried out a little, but the vegetables were fine.  It was okay to eat.

                Jocelyn said, “Ooh, you feed me well.  I’ll have to start a diet.”

                “We could schedule more exercise.”

                “Er…let’s worry about that next week.  Look, first chance I get, I want to cook you a meal.  I want you to know, I can cook.  I’m a good cook, if I don’t get distracted.”

                “I can cook, too, you know.  Maybe we can cook together.”

                “Be crowding the kitchen.  Yours isn’t any bigger than mine.”  She looked past me, into the kitchen---we sat opposite each other---and looked back at me and said, “Maybe next week I’ll get a fine slice of beef and a bunch of sides.  Soon as a weekend opens, not this weekend.”

                “Not this weekend.”  I let a pause grow for a moment, then said, “We are still going through with your family dinner?”

                “Yeah…yeah.”  Seemed Jocelyn was a little out of it.  “I want them to meet you, more than they did at the wedding.”  She sighed.  “I suppose they’ll be there, oh, except Patricia and her husband, who must be off on their honeymoon now.”  Then she said, “Let’s not talk about that.”

                We ate a few bites in silence, but then Jocelyn said, “Where did you get those pajamas and that bathrobe?”

                “You like them?”

                “Didn’t I say so?”

                I pulled my robe open a little.  “Well, a couple boxes of my clothes came today.  I’ve had these pajamas for years, but don’t wear them that often.  Couple of sets.”

                “You sleep in the nude?”

                “Well, I did.”  I fingered the lapel of my robe and said, “The robe and slippers, I bought down the street.  You like my old robe.”

                “Wish I was wearing it right now.”  She still had on her blouse and slacks that she wore to work.  She had taken off her sneakers.  Then she said, “You washed my blouses?”

                “They’re drying in my room down the hall.  Should be dry by tomorrow.”

                “Good, because I think I need one to wear.  You can get them in the morning, because you’re spending the night here, no argument about it.”

                “I wasn’t about to argue.  Oh, and I need to give you my phone number.”

                Jocelyn nodded.  We got our phones---we had just finished eating---and spent a little time putting each other’s number on our speed dial features.  Then I cleaned up our plates and utensils while Jocelyn cleaned up herself in the bathroom.

                She did come out wearing one of her red silk nightgowns.  She looked pretty good in it, and as she swirled around so I could get a good look at her in it, she said, “Little dirty, but all right.”

                “I wondered about washing them---”

                “Drycleaners.  Drop ‘em off when you pick up your suit and my, er, Patricia’s friend’s dress.”  She came up to me and caught me in a clench.  “Enough about that.  Let’s go to bed and cuddle up together and then see what happens.”

                So we climbed into the bed, getting between the clean sheets.  I leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, then swung back to turn off the bedside lamp.  “’Night, dear,” I said as the light went out and I rolled back over onto my back.

                Jocelyn nudged me in the ribs.  “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Tim.”

                “I do?  It’s starting to seem like we’re an old married couple.”

                “Old married couples must do it, too.  Start by kissing me, and then we’ll see how it goes from that.”

                So I rolled back over onto her and kissed her with as much passion as I could come up with.  I lost track of time.

#

                The next morning, I went down to my room, got her now-dry blouses, folded them, and brought them back to her room.  Jocelyn was still in the bathroom when I got back, but the door was open.  “You’re a lifesaver, Tim,” she said.  “A regular domestic.”

                I smiled at that, a little wryness in it.  “If I hadn’t been taking up your time,” I said, “I’m sure you would have done your own laundry by now.”

                “Ee-yup,” Jocelyn said, “would have done it Monday morning.”  She had put on everything but a blouse.  She took the top blouse, a light green one, from the pile I put on the edge of her bed.  She slipped it on and buttoned it up.

                I smiled again, more warmth.  “You look sexy, putting clothes on like that.”

                “And to think we met because I wore that micro bikini.”  She chuckled.  “Breakfast on me today.”

#

                We sat in the same booth.  Eggs and toast.  “It’s starting to seem like our place,” Jocelyn said.

                “Long as we have the time, Jocelyn.”

                “And the money.”  As she put the cash in the check wallet, a twenty and a five, which covered a generous tip, she said, “I will cook for you.  This I swear.”

                “You’ll have to try my cooking, too.”

#

                As we walked back, arm in arm, to the hotel parking lot, Jocelyn asked me, “What are your plans today?”

                “Well,” I said, thinking through things, “if more of my boxes come in, I’ll unpack them.  Our stuff at the drycleaners should be ready, so I’ll pick that up, too.  Nothing much else unless I think of something.”

                “Get our night clothes washed, if you can.  They’re kind of, well, kind of grungy from making out wearing them.”

                “I’ll drop them all at the drycleaners when I pick up my suit and the dress.”  I shrugged.  “I just don’t have the technique to wash silk in a machine or by hand, so the drycleaners it is.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  “We’re already acting like a married couple.”

                “You give the orders,” I said, “and I’ll obey them.”  I leaned forward and said, in a low voice, “There’s nobody I’d rather take orders from than you.”

                But I thought of something as I finished saying that.  I leaned back.  “Oh, one more thing.  If any of my contacts contact me about a job, I’ll follow that up.  But I’ll pick up the drycleaning first.”

                “Good.”  We got up, leaving the check wallet behind.

#

                A couple more boxes of clothes were delivered.  I took the boxes to my room and unpacked them.  Then I took the pajamas to the drycleaners and brought back the bridesmaid dress and my suit.

                It might have been a dull day, but I checked my texts and found a job offer.  An old friend, a college buddy once upon a time, wanted to hire me as a design troubleshooter in the firm he worked for in personnel.  Bert Gilligan.  I knew him pretty well from college.  He was the kind of guy you just had to refer to by both names, rather than the first or last.  He was surprised I was looking for job here, but he had one.  I put on my now-clean suit and went down to see him.

                It was a pretty good salary and benefits, all things considered, and I could start in two weeks.  I did tell Bert I had several inquiries around, but I thought I liked his offer.  I gave him a tentative acceptance, and I’d let him know for sure early Monday.

                Bert Gilligan gave me a rundown of the problems I’d face, and a brief tour of their offices.  I also told him why I was here in town, which seemed to amuse him.  “So the mighty bachelor tree that is Timothy Deacon has been cut down!”  He gave me a big grin.  “I can’t wait to pass this on!”

                Bert Gilligan was also the kind of guy who liked to phrase things in an odd and sometimes salacious way.  “Well, I am serious about this, but who knows?  That’s why I’ll tell you Monday.  Just keep it under wraps until then, at least, please.”

                “I’d like to meet the little woman,” Bert said.  That was the way he talked.  “We’ll have to get together whether you take the job or not.”  Bert was engaged, I knew.

                “We’ll have to see.  I’ll have to talk it over with Jocelyn and see.”

                “Dinner with friends…it’s quite a step.”

                I didn’t get back to the hotel until it was dark.  Jocelyn’s car was in the hotel parking lot.  I couldn’t pull in next to her car, there were cars already there.  So I parked two cars down and got up out of the car and looked up.  I could see the curtain of Jocelyn’s room flutter---was she watching?

                I got up to Jocelyn’s room as fast as I could.  The first thing I said was, “I didn’t get a chance to call.  I was off on a job interview, and we ran a little late.”  I took her into my arms and hugged and kissed her.  “I’m sorry.”

                “Bound to happen, Tim.  Is it a good offer?”

                “I think it’s good.  I’ll take it unless something very good comes along.”  I smiled at her and let her go.  “The personnel director is an old friend.  Bert Gilligan.  Wants us to have dinner with him and his girlfriend some time.”

                “Sometime.  Let’s see how you do with dinner with my family first.”  Now it was her turn to put her arms around me and give me a kiss.  “I started to worry.  I worried you yesterday.”

                “Well, some, but I got a message.  Didn’t get a chance to call you.”  After I let a pause fill the space, I said, “You didn’t work late.”

                “A little, but I finished up the job.  Let’s get something to eat.  I’m starved.”

                It was just after seven.  “Is, uh, our place, still open?”

                “Till nine, I think.  But we’ve got to start eating at home.  I need to watch my diet.”

                She was skinny as could be without looking like a starvation victim, I thought.  “Maybe we could get a salad with our meal.”

                “Some fruits and vegetables would be nice.  Can you pick up some sliced melon at the market?”

                “Anything you want.  You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “Not as far as I know.

#

                We ate at “our place” again, me in my suit and Jocelyn in her blouse and slacks.  “I feel overdressed,” I said.

                “You look good in that suit,” Jocelyn replied.  “But I like you fine with no clothes at all.”

                For some reason, that didn’t sink in right away.  I was looking over the menu when I “got it.”  Then I laughed, a hearty laugh.  Jocelyn laughed, too, and as the laughter died down, I said, “I’m sorry, I thought I was faster about things like that.”

                “What’s a little sexual innuendo between us now?  We’ve done it---we will again.  I think we can keep up with each other.”  Jocelyn smiled.  “See?”

                I nodded.  Jocelyn chuckled and said, “As for that ‘no clothes’ part, well, let’s just say I’m glad I stayed in shape.  I would have hated for you to think I was some kind of slob.”

                “Same here.  I let exercise slide while I traveled, but, well…”  I leaned back.  “I guess I’m settling down.  We can go together, if we can manage it.”  I felt a twinge in my leg, and added, “But not till sometime next week.”

                “We’ve got enough on our plates for right now.  Speaking of which…”  We turned our attention back to the menus.  We settled on some thin steak fillets, and side salads.  They were good.

#

                Back at the hotel, we went to our respective rooms to wash up.  I came back wearing my other set of blue silk pajamas and my robe.  I found Jocelyn wearing my old bathrobe, but nothing else.  “We could go to bed right now,” Jocelyn said.  “Save ourselves the trouble.”

                “I suppose.  We are going at it, aren’t we?”

                “We can neglect it later.  Meanwhile, climb in, and we’ll watch TV together.”

                I blinked.  “There’s a TV in here?”  There was a flat TV screen mounted on the wall where we could watch it from the bed.  I said, “I hadn’t noticed it before.”  I don’t know why---I mean, most hotel rooms had a TV.

                “I haven’t turned the TV on since I got back here with you,” Jocelyn said.  “I’ve been, ah, busy.”

                She took off the robe and climbed into bed.  I took off my robe and started to unbutton my pajama top.  She lay on her side, elbow crooked, hand against her head, watching me.  “I should put on some music.”

                “I’m self-conscious enough as it is,” I said.  My pajama pants came down and I slipped into bed.  We kissed and then started in.

                After that finished up---I wasn’t sure how long it lasted, I was just trying to keep up as long as I could---Jocelyn said, “I suppose we could talk about things.”  She traced lines on my chest with her fingernail.  “Anything on your mind?  Say the first thing you think of.”

                “I love you,” I said.  “I want to marry you.”

                “Look, Tim, we’ve known each other for five days.”

                I shrugged.  “You did ask me to say the first thing I thought of.”

                She put her ear to my chest.  “Well, I love you, but I want to take it slow.  Slower.  Let’s see how we feel after you’ve had dinner with my family.”

                “We can go and get married after dinner.  Is there a waiting period in this state?  I haven’t checked.”

                “I don’t know, either.  We’ll check after dinner Sunday.”  She tensed up.  “We’re rushing things.  We’ll check, but don’t order any rings yet.  And don’t propose.  Not till I tell you.”

                I thought about that.  I said, “When I said I love you and I want to marry you, that was a proposal.”

                She chuckled and hugged me tight.

#

                I had bought enough groceries to whip up breakfast.  Some eggs-bacon-and-toast, along with some orange juice and milk.  Jocelyn said, “They’ll miss us at the restaurant.”

                “We’ll eat there tonight,” I replied.  “Unless you’re up for two breakfasts.”

                “Not me,” she said, as she put a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.  “Mmm, this is good.  I couldn’t eat more.  It’s a generous breakfast.”

                I had to agree.  Four scrambled eggs, six slices of microwaved bacon, four slices of toast, all the butter anyone could want…  “More than enough,” I said.  “Lots of calories.”

                Jocelyn was all dressed and ready to go.  She kissed me on the cheek.  “Bye, dear,” she said.  “You don’t have to take me down to the car.”

                “I’ll watch from the window, then.”

                So I did.  Jocelyn looked up and waved as she climbed into her car.  I watched until she was out in traffic.

                The rest of my parcels had come in, the last of my clothes and the basics of my computer workstation.  I was able to get a small folding table, courtesy of the hotel and Mr. Metzinger, and set up my laptop on that.  A temporary arrangement---and anything more permanent depended on so many different things involving Jocelyn.

                I washed the plates and disposed of the garbage.  After that, though, I had time on my hands.  No need to go out.  I stretched out on the bed in my room, not crawling under the covers but just lying down on the bedspread.  I spent the time thinking.

                I had found the girl of my dreams.  Or at least I thought I had found her.  We met in a cute way.  Seeing her in that three-colored micro-bikini left nothing to the imagination, and gave me the courage to talk to her.  That led to her following me up and seeing me drop my room card.

                I had been involved in a family wedding.  We had “gone back to her place” and, for all practical purposes, moved in with each other.  The sex was great.

                But she was uneasy about going too fast.  So was I.  But I couldn’t help it.  Like I told her, I wanted to marry her.  More than anything I had ever wanted.  But was it too soon?  She worried about her family and their reaction to me.  Could that make everything go bad?

                Maybe we should consider staying away from each other for a while.

                The thought hung in my head.  Not being busy is sometimes a dreadful experience.  Too much time to think.

#

                I must have fallen asleep without realizing it.  I awoke to find Jocelyn climbing onto the bed next to me.  “First time you weren’t down in my room,” she said.  “But your car is still in the lot.”

                “Oh.”  I looked away from her, up at the ceiling.  “I was just thinking.  Lying here thinking.”

                “You look a little down.”

                I gave her a brief outline of how my thoughts had fallen out, ending with the idea that we should spend some time apart.  Jocelyn stayed calm, adding just a few thoughts about how some of it fitted in with her own thoughts.  “You might have a point,” she said.  “But I am telling you, you won’t lose me even if you go away for a bit of ‘me time.’”  She waved her arm around the room.  “You’ve taken a lease.  And I’m not giving up my room.  So even if we don’t hang out together, we’ll see each other.”

                “Hmm.”  That reminded me of something else.  “I haven’t asked, but is there anybody else on this floor?”

                “I don’t think there’s anybody long-term, maybe down at the other end of the hall.  There are plenty on the lower floors.  But this place does fill up on the weekends.  You’ll see.”

                “We’ll be gone Sunday.”

                “Just in the morning and back in the evening.  Have you heard anything more on the job front?  That’ll take you away.”

                I checked my phone messages from time to time.  “One definite no.  Nothing from the others.  There’s Bert Gilligan’s offer.  Anyway, my roving days are over.”

                “Well, when we take a belated honeymoon, we can roam then.  We’re young, and there’s time to see the world.

                No engagement or marriage, but honeymoon planning.  I decided not to say anything about that.  But I chuckled and said, “I’ve always had an urge to look into some of those tourist trap limestone caves you find up and down the East Coast.  Haven’t ever gotten around to it.”

                “That’s very good,” Jocelyn said.  “Maybe.”

                “What about you, Jocelyn?  Where would you want to visit?”

                “Well…”  Jocelyn hesitated, as if I were squeezing the information out of her.  “I’ve always wanted to visit a few Civil War battlefields.”

                “Mmm.  I visited Gettysburg one.”  I held my tongue for a moment, as some memories came back.  “I felt it was kind of haunted, what with everything that happened there.”  After another hesitation, I added, “I didn’t know you were a Civil War buff.”

                “I’ve got a shelf of books back home---back at my parents’ house, I mean.  Just a subject that caught my interest.  I’ve learned a lot of history.”

                I thought I knew a lot of history, too.  I was no expert, but I had plowed through several shelves at the library.  My small book collection---paperbacks, most of them---were still in storage and even at this hotel I didn’t have room to keep them.

                Jocelyn went on.  “I suppose I could go into a cold and damp cave if you were with me.  I hope you can take the ghosts of soldiers on battlefields.”

                “You might have something.”

                “How do you feel about horror movies?”

                I nodded and said, “I’ve seen a fair share, but they’re not part of my diet.  I guess I like the classics.”

                “Me, too.  Even with horror movies.  I’ll take a Hitchcock movie over any gory splatter movie playing at the multiplex right now.”

                “Yeah, me, too, but I don’t go to the movies much.”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “We can watch them on television.  The cable here is an excellent selection.”

                “All right.  We’ll watch some later.”

                I ran over our plans.  Had we decided on anything?  “Let me lay it out.  We stick together from now till dinner with your family.  After that---do you want to separate for a week or so right after?  I don’t much like the idea.”

                “I think we’ll need a little time to ourselves after that.”  Jocelyn smiled again---she was a frequent smiler, with an occasional chuckle or out-and-out laugh.  The smiles lasted just a short time, but they lit up her face.  I was coming to appreciate them every time.

                Jocelyn added, “Unless Sunday night things look so different that we do something else.”

                “Right.”  I had a good idea of what “something else” might involve, and I think Jocelyn did, too.  I said, “We seem to be falling into the assumption that we will be together.”

                “How so, Tim?”

                “Talking about a belated honeymoon, for one.  A honeymoon follows marriage.  Doesn’t it?”

                “I guess it does.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “Okay.  All right.  Call me your fiancé, and I’ll call you my intended.  But, uh, don’t bring this up with my family, because it will just mean more questions.  You’re my date.  That will discourage them from fixing me up with someone else…I hope.”

                I grimaced.  “Is it that bad?”

                “My mother will not let drop that my sisters, my younger sisters, are now all married.”

                “Mmm-hmm.”  I let the thought sink in, but then said, “We could lie to them and say we got married six or seven years ago.”

                “You beast!” Jocelyn said and punched me in the ribs---a gentle punch.  She laughed and then sighed and said, “Ah, they would never fall for that, but it’s a pretty good idea.  Besides, I’m sure Janie and Joan have told them about how we met---don’t bring that up, either.”

                Jocelyn snuggled up next to me.  It felt good.  “Let’s take a nap before we go out to eat.”

                So we stopped talking and tried to sleep.

#

                We must have napped well, because when we woke up, about the same time, sunlight came in through the cracks in the closed blinds.  We were in much the same positions as we had been in when we fell asleep.  It was a good and solid sleep, but my muscles were stiff and sore.  “Ouch!” I said as I moved.

                Jocelyn sat up, put her feet over the side of the bed, and then stretched her arms and legs.  “Ouch is right,” she said.  “My feelings, too.  We never did eat last night.”

                “I, ah---”  I could just see the clock on the kitchenette stove.  “I think we have enough time.  I think---does the restaurant open at six?”  I had climbed out of bed and reached for my phone on the counter.  I looked at it.  “It’s six thirty.  We’re already dressed.”

                Jocelyn sniffed at her rumpled clothes.  “I’d like to clean up and go down to the restaurant after.  Shouldn’t take long.  Besides, if I showed up wearing the same clothes as yesterday, people would talk.”

                “The truth isn’t so bad,” I said.  I ran my hand over my face.  “Well, I need a shave.”

                Jocelyn scratched her leg under her slacks.  “Yeah, me, too.  But I can do that tonight.”  She laughed.  “Here I have my own electric shaver.  I don’t have to borrow your razor.”

                “You can if you want.”  I smiled at her.  “Using my razor brought you closer to me.”

                She smiled at the thought.  I was sure I had said something like that before, but one fond memory was coming after another now.

#

                “My treat, my treat,” Jocelyn said as she grabbed the check.  “I was paid yesterday.”

                I patted my hip pocket, where my wallet was.  “Yeah…I didn’t get around to getting any cash yesterday.  The banks don’t know me here, and I’m not crazy about using ATMs.”  I sighed.  “I suppose I’ll use an ATM, but I don’t have to like it.”

                Jocelyn put a couple of bills in the check wallet.  “This will clean me out for now, too.  We could charge things.”

                “I hate running up charges even more than I hate ATMs.”  I pointed to the remains of our eggs-bacon-toast breakfast.  “I hate charging anything I can’t return if I have to.”

                “I’m leaning the most delightful things about you,” Jocelyn said.  She leaned across the table, a smirk on her face---and then she rubbed her nose against mine.  Then she leaned back.  “I’ve arranged it so I have half a day off, so be prepared to do something with me sometime after one.”

                “Would you like me to pick you up at the office?”

                “No, I’m going to drive in, and I’d still have to drive the car back.  How about I pick you up at the hotel and then we take a spin around town, me driving this time?”

                I smiled.  “It’s a date.”

#

                I loosened the lugnuts from Jocelyn’s right front tire.  “I have to admit,” I said, “that this wasn’t something I would have thought of doing on a date.”

                “I could have changed it myself,” Jocelyn said, standing beside me.  “I just couldn’t get enough leverage to get those lugnuts loose.”

                “We’ll have to get you something,” I said.  We used Jocelyn car jack, but I had a four-way tire iron in my car which gave a little more.  At least Jocelyn had a spare tire, not one of those inflation kits, and the spare tire had air.

                I pulled the tire off and let it fall flat on the asphalt, and Jocelyn rolled the spare towards me.  Together we lifted the spare onto the bolts.  I tightened the lugnuts in a star pattern, then released the jack.  The spare held.  I said, “You want to go to the tire store and get your tire plugged?”  A nail had done her tire in.  I’d left it in the tire.

                “Oh.  Hadn’t thought of it.  I was going to get a new tire, but on Monday.”

                “You don’t want to spend too much time driving around on a spare.”

                “I meant I didn’t want to spend the afternoon hanging around waiting for someone to put a new tire on my car.”

                “What about Sunday?”

                “Oh.”  That we had plans for Sunday had dropped out of her thoughts.  She smiled with embarrassment.  “I did so want to drive you to my parents.  Well, a new tire this afternoon it is.”

                I looked at the tire, then the other three tires.  “Maybe four fresh tires.”

                “That’ll bust my budget---and I’m not letting you pay for it, Tim!”  She crossed her arms and stood there, her lower lip thrust out.  She looked so damned cute.  I smiled, and then she started to laugh.

                I laughed with her.  “I’ll buy groceries and breakfast and dinner, till your next paycheck.”

                “Well,” Jocelyn said, “I’ve got savings.  I can cover this.  I’ve been trying to save up some money for…well, for things like this.”

                “Well, too, my savings won’t last forever---I think I will take Bert Gilligan’s job offer.”  I looked up at the steel and glass multi-story building whose parking lot we were in.  It was after one, and I came when she called.  “This is where you work.  Lot of glass windows.”

                “Yeah, all that glass makes it warm in the winter and very hot in the summer.”  Jocelyn looked up, shading her eyes, then looked away, almost covering her head with her hands.  “Oh.  They’re looking down at us, the Saturday crew.  I just know it.”

                “Well, Jocelyn,” I said, “I do hope to be a permanent part of your life---”

                “We’ll talk about that later.”

Jocelyn said that with enough firmness to shut down discussion.  Instead, I said, “let’s load the gear and the flat tire into the trunk and get a move-on.  Any place in particular?”

“I, ah, think I have a deal with Irv’s Autos.  It’s where I got these.  I’ve got a warranty.  In the glove compartment.”

“Okay.”  Once I had gathered everything up, I closed the trunk.  I had thrown my tire iron in with everything.  “Hop in and head out.  I’ll follow.”

“At least you can see a little more of the town.”

Jocelyn climbed in her car and had backed out as I was climbing into my car.  “No racing!” I shouted, but she was halfway down the parking lot, and she couldn’t have heard me through a rolled-up window anyway.

#

                The tires had a warranty, but it had expired.  But Jocelyn did have a loyal-customer discount.

                We sat in the waiting room of Irv’s Auto, a small room with a few uncomfortable plastic chairs just off the main bay.  We could look out a large window and see Jocelyn’s car being worked on.  Jocelyn told me she used Irv’s for repairs and five-thousand-mile checkups.

                The elderly man who handled Jocelyn’s car wasn’t Irv, but Chuck, at least according to the nametag sewn on his overalls.  He wore a hat that came down almost over his eyes.  Chuck knew Jocelyn from previous visits, which, I gathered, were getting more frequent.  “You gotta understand, Miss Sutton,” Chuck said.  “There’s just so much a car this age can handle.  The tires are the least part of it.”

                “We’ll make do, Chuck,” she said.  “I can’t afford a new car just now, not even a new old car.”

                Chuck looked at me, but I stayed silent.  Jocelyn had made it clear that I was not to get involved.  I knew enough about cars, but I was no expert.

                Chuck looked back to Jocelyn, and said, “Well, all right.  Four new tires on the poor old thing?”

                “Four new tires,” Jocelyn said, and nodded.

                So Jocelyn and I sat down and waited.  It would be a couple of hours before the car was ready.  I offered to take her back to the hotel or take her anywhere.  Jocelyn was firm about that, too.  She wanted to wait for it, wait it out, right there.

                Our conversation seemed to peter out for a while.  It felt good to me, to just sit there next to her.  I tried to think of what she could be thinking…cars…us…just about anything.

                Our thoughts, whatever they were, were interrupted when Chuck came back into the waiting room.  “Well, four new tires,” he said.  “That ought to hold you till your next checkup, if she doesn’t break before that.  Also, we changed the oils and filters.  You’re set to go.”  He handed Jocelyn a clipboard with the paperwork.  He looked at me, then said, “Would you like your car serviced, sir?”

                “I just had it serviced a few weeks ago at the dealership.”

                “We also do warranty work.”

                “Maybe some other time.”

                Jocelyn finished signing for the work, her credit card in her hand.  Chuck took both and was gone for a minute or so, then came back and handed back Jocelyn’s card and her copies.  And her car keys.

                Chuck, or somebody, parked Jocelyn’s car right outside the garage.  Mine was at the other end of the small lot.  Jocelyn sighed, looked at the sun going down, and said, “So much for seeing something of the town today.”

                “There’s always next weekend.”

                “You might be working.  You won’t have time.”

                I put my hands on her shoulders and pulled her towards me.  “I will always have time for you, Jocelyn.”  Then we kissed.

                I thought I heard an “Aw!” from the general direction of the garage, but I couldn’t see anyone there when I looked.  Jocelyn blushed and pushed me away, then got in her car.  I walked down to my car as she zoomed by in her car.

#

                The spaces I had come to think of as “our spaces” were both taken---this extended-stay hotel did, after all, have other guests than us.  But spaces were open at either end, well in range of seeing the cars from Jocelyn’s window, and maybe my window too.  I hadn’t yet checked.

                Jocelyn had already gone on up.  Mrs. McVicar had a smile on her face as I came in.  She said to me, “The two of you were gone so long I thought you might have gone off on your honeymoon.”

                I smiled at the thought.  “No, but I’m hopeful.  Did Jocelyn pass by?”

                “Yes, but she didn’t think my joke was as funny as you did.  Maybe she’s still at the elevator.”

                I hurried along.  The elevator doors were closing, but when I pressed the button, the doors opened again.  Jocelyn was inside, blushing a little.  Embarrassed?  Maybe.  “Nothing to worry about,” I said.

                “We are in kind of an intense relationship,” Jocelyn replied.  “It must spill out sometimes.  But I’m not sure I like people assuming like that.”

                “What about tomorrow’s lunch with your family?”

                That produced a grimace.  “That could go the other way.  They might try to fix me up with someone else.”

                I stepped into the elevator.  “That won’t happen.”  I took her in my arms.  “I’d like to say you are mine, Jocelyn Sutton, and I would not let anyone take you from me.”  I grinned.  “That’s a poor sort of relationship claim.  Let me just say I love you.”  Saying that came easier.

                “Remember our deal?” Jocelyn said.  Half question, half statement.  She went on.  “Monday morning, we spend time apart.  I don’t want us to be one of those joined-at-the-hip couples.”

                I didn’t like it.  For Jocelyn’s sake, I would put up with it.  It was hitting me that I was into her, into her very deep.

                As I stood there, listening, taking it, Jocelyn said, “Maybe tomorrow we should just meet up and then go.  Spend tonight apart.”

                The elevator door opened on our floor.  “Oh, no,” I said as we stepped out.  “If I’m going to be separated from you Monday morning, I want as much time with you before then.”  I kissed her in front of the door.

                “Hmm!”  It wasn’t either of us, it was a cough.  An older man stood there.  He stepped past us and pressed the elevator button, then stood there, waiting.  The elevator had descended a little and was on its way back up.

                I guess there were other guests on this floor now.  I nudged Jocelyn, and we went down to her room.  She fumbled with the key card but then got the door open.

                Once we were inside, with just a few words between us, we were out of our clothes and into the bed together.  Afterwards, I looked at her leaning against me, eyes closed.  It wasn’t just the sex, not at all.  It was everything about her.  I thought I understood those joined-at-the-hip couples now.  How could I give her up on Monday, even if it was for a little while?

#

                Sunday breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.  Jocelyn cooked.  It tasted good to me.

                We talked as we ate.  “My parents will put out a big spread,” Jocelyn said.  “It’s all right if you make a pig of yourself.  I plan to do that.”

                “Maybe I should try to impress them with my manners.”

                “My parents aren’t big on that, either.  I wouldn’t know if I was using the wrong fork.  They won’t, either.”  We finished at the same time.  As she put the dishes in the sink, Jocelyn said, “Go and put on your suit.”

                “The luncheon is formal?” I asked.

                “I think so, formal as far as it goes.  But wear a suit.  I think my parents and sisters and their husbands will be, well, well-dressed, I suppose.  At least I don’t have to worry about Patricia.  She would.  But she’s somewhere in the Bahamas on her honeymoon.”

                I nodded.  “What will you be wearing?”

                “Oh, my best blouse and slacks.  But you wear a suit.”

                I stood up.  “The Bahamas, right?  Would you prefer a honeymoon at Niagara Falls?  It’s a traditional honeymoon place.”

                Jocelyn laughed.  Just then, her phone, sitting on the counter next to where we ate, started to put out its ringtones.  She glanced at the screen, then sighed and picked it up.  “Hello, Mother,” she said.  Her tone was bleak.  I could hear her mother’s voice, but just a few words here and there.  Jocelyn said, “Yes, I remember.  Yes, we’re getting ready, right now.  We’ll be dressed right.  We’ll be there before noon, don’t you worry.”

She listened to a longer speech from her mother, and said, “That’s…good, Mother.  Who did you say is coming again?”  After another long reply I couldn’t make out, Jocelyn said.  “We’ll be there.  We’ll be dressed for it.  All right, then.  Good-bye, Mom.”

She hung up, put the phone down, and looked at me, her expression sorrowful.  “I’m sorry.  It looks like I was right about dressing up.  Mom is planning a big formal picnic.”

I nodded.  “Casual wear not wanted?”

“I imagine some of the guests will be wearing more casual clothes.  Not us.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “I’m sure she’s invited someone to fix me up with, but she didn’t give a name.  I have a few ideas.”

                “Vince?”

                “Ooh, maybe.”

                I let her think about that for a while.  Jocelyn went back to the kitchen sink where she washed the dishes.  There weren’t that many, just the egg pan and two dishes.

                I wondered about being in a situation with someone who might be Jocelyn’s date for the picnic.  I said, “Just remember, Jocelyn, to come back home with me.”

                Jocelyn glanced over her shoulder at me.  “No fear.”

#

                We took her car.  It seemed reasonable to me.  Besides, my plans were to stay until Jocelyn wanted to leave.  As we turned off the main highway into the development where her parents lived, Jocelyn said, “Somehow I don’t think we’re going to have a good time.”  It was eleven-fifteen, plus or minus a few minutes.

                I nodded and looked around.  This development, or maybe neighborhood, wasn’t small.  The houses on the winding road were few and far apart, large, sitting on big spreads of land.  Multi-room multi-story ranch houses.

                Did it!  Jocelyn drove all the way down the road, two to three winding miles, to the very end, to the beginning of a long private driveway.  There was a gate, but the gate was open, and Jocelyn turned her car and drove in without hesitation.

                This driveway was gravel, and maybe a quarter mile around.  The house was large, somewhat rustic and woody in appearance.  In front of the house was a sort of roundabout.  There was a flagpole in a spread of grass in the middle, without a flag on it.

                A dozen cars were parked around the roundabout.  Jocelyn pulled in behind one, a sedan out of which somebody, a man in a suit somewhat less formal than mine, was just getting out.  I caught his eye just as he spotted me and smiled.

                It was Bert Gilligan!

                To say I was surprised was an understatement.  Bert smiled as I emerged.  I tried to go around and help Jocelyn out from behind the steering wheel, but Bert was faster and intercepted me before I could.  “Tim Deacon!” he said.  “What brings you here?”

                Jocelyn had climbed out, and she saw him.  He put on a broad grin.  “Jocelyn Sutton!”  He looked again at me and said, “Who’d have figured?”

                Jocelyn came over and stood next to me.  “Bert,” she said, “what brings you here?”

                Bert laughed and thumped the car he was now leaning against.  “My old war horse here.”  It was a pony car, all right.  “Ninety thousand miles and it still runs.”

                Jocelyn groaned, a faint sound in her throat, and said, “No, Bert, I mean---”

                “I know, I know.”  Bert held up his hands and hunched his shoulders.  “Your parents invited my parents, and since I was here for the weekend, I was invited, too.”  He said, “So you’re the girl that Tim, here, has fallen hard for.”

                Jocelyn looked at me.  I coughed, and said, “I suppose that’s true.”

                “We’ll catch up later.  I guess I’ve got to go in and greet our hosts---your parents, I mean.”  He nodded and smiled and moved on.

                I stood with Jocelyn, who looked at me, an expression of---well, disapproval was present, but the expression seemed stronger than that.  I said, “I didn’t know you knew Bert Gilligan.”

                “His family and mine are, well, friends, I guess.”  She pointed back the way we had driven in.  “They live down on the other side of the main road.  I think they have even more money than my parents.  You?”

                “College friend.”  I had always thought he was a good guy, except for how he phrased things, a love of misconstruing things.  I let that hang in the air before I dropped my other thought.  “You never mentioned your family was rich, Jocelyn,” I said.

                “Never came up,” Jocelyn replied.  “And they’re not that rich.  I’ll have to sit you down and fill you in.”  She brightened a little.  “Of course, you will have to fill me in about your family.  Drycleaning, you said?”

                I nodded.

                “Well, we’ve lingered enough.”  She slung her purse, a white leather pouch over her shoulder, that matched the white calf-length dress with belt she wore.  She smoothed out her dress and said, “Let’s go in and face the music.”

#

                Out of the sun, it was cooler.  It was a warm day.  Jocelyn knew her way about in the house, and she led me through what I took to be a living room and a formal dining room into the backyard.  A large tent had been set up, up against the house.

                There were three or four dozen people around, and Jocelyn knew some of them and greeted them as the two of us passed through.  But she didn’t linger on any person or couple.  Instead, she greeted them.  “Mrs. Smith!  How nice to see you again!  “Mr. and Mrs. Jones, I haven’t seen you in ages.  Ben, good to see you!”  Her tone seemed pleasant, but, I thought, it was a little phony.

                I whispered, “You know all these people?”

                “Just that they’re friends of my parents,” Jocelyn whispered back.  “I don’t---oh, damn!”

                Jocelyn looked angry and upset at the same time: her face reddened.  She pointed and said, “Vince.”

                It was Vince.  From the wedding.  Jocelyn’s escort.  He stood near the open door, in the tent, and was looking in the other direction.  Jocelyn took my elbow and steered me around, so we were heading the other way.  When we had moved into the other room and stopped in an isolated corner behind a couch, Jocelyn said, in a soft voice, “Damn, damn, damn!”

                “Does his presence upset you so much?” I said.

                “I could tolerate it,” Jocelyn replied, “if I didn’t think my parents had some ulterior motives.  Vince doesn’t live around here anymore, not even in town.”

                “So if he’s here---”

                “Yeah, I think my parents might try to put us together.”

                I felt some annoyance myself, rising in me.  I said, “I know your parents know you’re here with me, Jocelyn.”

                “They---I mean, I told them.”

                I sighed.  “Well, let’s assume Vince is here for, uh, innocent reasons, and it’s nothing to do with you.  Or me,” I said, adding that as an afterthought.

                Jocelyn seemed to accept that, but she still seemed to seethe.  I said, “Look, Jocelyn, if you’re so upset, let’s just leave and text our regrets to your parents.”

                “It’s just that---”

                Just then we were interrupted by a cry of, “Jocelyn!” and we both turned.  It was Vince.  Looked about the same as I had seen him last, though he wore a lighter gray shade of suit and his shave looked better.  He had a big smile on his face.  He had seen us, or, at least, seen Jocelyn, after all.

                Jocelyn sighed and stepped out from behind the couch.  I followed.  Vince came right up to us, or to her, and said, “Boy, am I glad to see you!  When you left the wedding---”

                “I had something to take care of,” Jocelyn said.  Her tone was as cold as Vince’s was warm.  She said, “Let me introduce my very good friend Timothy Deacon.”

                I wasn’t crazy about being referred to as “very good friend,” but I understood her reasoning.  And I wasn’t crazy about the idea of causing any sort of scene, at least not yet.

                Vince didn’t offer to shake my hand.  I saw that flicker of distaste on his face, that I had seen when I caught his eye at the wedding.  But it was in the middle of a big smile this time and he returned to warmth.  “Yes, your parents said you had brought him to the wedding.  It was sad, being alone with your empty seat next to me.”

                I realized I had been in contact with Vince long enough, and received enough information about him, to form a dislike, a hearty dislike.  It was time, though, to speak.  “Yes,” I said, stepping forward so I was just a little closer to him than Jocelyn, “she went off with me after that.”

                “I hadn’t planned on staying much beyond the wedding itself,” Jocelyn said. 

                “Ah, well,” Vince said, a definite glare---at me---on his face.  He turned away from me and looked straight at Jocelyn.  “You look good in that dress.  You wouldn’t know how good.  Now if your hair was a little longer…”  He glanced over his shoulder, then said, “Perhaps we can talk later.”  He nodded in farewell to Jocelyn, but not to me, and turned away and left.

                Jocelyn let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

                “I’m sorry,” I said.

                “It was bad,” Jocelyn said.  She lowered her voice almost to a whisper.  “I thought he might say I didn’t look like a boy.”

                “He said that?”  I kept my voice down, too---after all, there were other people around.

                “You don’t think I looked like a boy.”

                I chuckled.  “Remember what you wore when we met?  You didn’t look like a boy then.”

                “Vince has said that.”

                I nodded.  “If he had, well, I don’t know what would have happened.”

                Jocelyn looked at me and said, “Maybe we should just leave.”

                “I wish we could, but…”  I glanced to one side.  “Aren’t those your parents approaching?”

                It was and they were headed right for us.  “Jocelyn!” her mother said and took her in her arms and gave her a big hug.  Jocelyn remained tense.

                Her father hugged her next, and shook my offered hand, using both of his to hold my arm as we shook.  He seemed happy to see me---or was it an act?  “Good to make your acquaintance again, Timothy, was it?”

                “Tim, they call me,” I said.  I looked at Jocelyn and her mother.  Her mother did not look happy to see me---or be thrilled with Jocelyn.

                Her mother said, “I’m glad you were able to come today.  We’ve got a big banquet planned.  I would---your father and I---would like to speak with you---”  She glanced at me.  “---alone?”

                “I don’t want to leave Tim alone,” Jocelyn said.  “He doesn’t know anybody here.”

                “Nonsense!  Bert Gilligan told us he’d gone to school with him.  I saw him here a moment ago.”  She took Jocelyn’s elbow and started to guide her away.  Jocelyn pulled her elbow away in a sharp up and down gesture.

                Jocelyn said, “I’d rather stay with Tim.”  She looked at me for support.

                I was ready to do whatever Jocelyn wanted, as soon as I figured out what it was.  She gave me a pained look, but then said, “Oh, all right, but not for long.”

                “I guess I’ll…mingle?”

                Jocelyn nodded, and then her parents took her off, going out through an open door and into a corridor beyond.  I watched them go, then turned around.

                I spotted Bert Gilligan, just outside in the tent.  He was talking with a man I recognized as the husband of Joan or Janie.  I wasn’t sure which.  As I approached, another man came up as well.  I recognized him---he was Jocelyn’s sister.  I couldn’t remember if I had gotten his name.  “Junior,” Jocelyn had said.

                Bert said to me, “I don’t think you had a chance to meet at the wedding, I gather.  John, this is Timothy Deacon, a friend of Jocelyn’s, her date for this event.”

                A brief sour look passed across John’s face.  He held out his hand and shook it.  “I feel you should be warned.”

                Had I offended someone?  My own face must have revealed something, because Bert Gilligan said, “He means there’s been a change in the seating arrangements.”

                “What?”  Some of the implications penetrated.  I said, “I’m here with Jocelyn.  I figure---that is, I---”  I looked upward, and said, “You mean I won’t be sitting next to Jocelyn?”

                John sighed, and said, “I’m afraid, sir, my parents have, well, peculiar notions about us children.  What would make them happy would be if we dated and married somebody they approved of beforehand.”

                “That seems…”  I felt extreme annoyance rising, and hesitated before I answered.  “…barbaric,” I said.

                “It’s not quite as bad as all that,” the other man said.  “They hadn’t met me before Joan and I were engaged.”

                “You kind of eloped,” John said.

                “They knew where we were.  They didn’t stop it.”

                “It’s true of John, here, too,” Bert Gilligan said.

                “Well, we had a church wedding,” John replied.

                I said, “Then they don’t exercise control over this?”

                “Oh, no,” Joan’s husband said, “I think all of them married the spouses they wanted.”

                “Even without expressed parental approval,” Bert Gilligan added.

                I had to think about this.  I realized Jocelyn was now off with her parents---what were they saying to her?

                I turned to Joan’s husband and said, “I’m sorry, Mister, ah…I don’t think I got your name.”

                “Harold Campion,” he said, holding out his hand---the other had a drink in it.  After we shook hands he said, “Her parents aren’t, well---”  He glanced at John, then said, “They aren’t the easiest people to get along with.”

                John said, “Oh, don’t I know it.”  He turned to me and said, “Timothy…can I call you Timothy?”

                “Most people call me Tim,” I said.

                “Well, then, Tim, our family is well-to-do, you must realize.”  He waved a hand around.  “Look at this place, the side of this spread.”

                “Yes, I noticed,” I said.  “Jocelyn hadn’t brought it up, other than to say that.  But I can look around and draw some conclusions.”

                “They’re not gazillionaires, Tim,” Bert Gilligan said.  “But they’ve, ah, got some.”

                John said, “They were after us all to marry other people who---”  He looked at Bert Gilligan and said, “ ‘Got some?’  Interesting phrase.”

                “But accurate.”

                “Yes.”  He sighed, and said, “I don’t think any of us married anyone who was dirt poor---I don’t know about Jane’s husband, to be honest---but it was on their minds.”

                An awful premise arose in my mind.  I kind of wished I had a drink in my hand, though I don’t drink.  I said, “You mean that your parents might be in there with Jocelyn right now, telling her I’m marrying her for her family’s money?”

                “I’m afraid so, Tim,” John said.

                Up till that morning, I hadn’t thought anybody would think that---I think I had a vague idea Jocelyn’s family was well-to-do, most of that from the somewhat lavish wedding I had kind of attended.  But the idea---well, it must have given me a sour taste in my mouth, and it must have shown on my face.

                Bert Gilligan said, “I told them, Tim, when they asked me about you.  You’ve got money.”

                “I haven’t got a lot of money,” I said.  “My family is in the drycleaning business.”

                “And you’re a top-flight engineer who can write his own ticket anywhere else,” he added.

                John sighed.  “I know how my parents feel.  And how they act.”

                It hit me then that, above all, I had to talk to Jocelyn.  I started to take a step away from them, then stopped.  I had no idea where Jocelyn was.  Somewhere in the house.

                Harold said, “I don’t know Jocelyn that well, but if you’re worried this will somehow get in the way, I wouldn’t worry.”

                “They’re willful,” Bert Gilligan said.  “Even John here is willful, even if he is the least willful.”

                John frowned.  “Thank you,” he said with sarcasm.

                “Not his fault, he’s just a Junior and you know how Juniors can be.”  Bert Gilligan blinked, then said, “It’s not a problem, Tim, unless it were true that you’re a fortune hunter looking to marry Jocelyn for her money.  Is it?”

                I was starting to get annoyed with this conversation.  I fought down the idea of replying with some heat, and said, calm as I could manage, “I am not.  It so happens I’m in love with Jocelyn.  Love at first sight, I think.”

                Harold nodded.  “Joan told me how you two met.  String bikini that didn’t conceal a thing.”

                “Knowing what you were getting into,” Bert Gilligan said.

                I was looking for an excuse to step away from this conversation.  It looked like John was about to reply to Bert Gilligan’s comment, defending his sister on the notion she wasn’t attractive---he didn’t have to sell me on the idea.  I found Jocelyn very attractive.

                And just then Jocelyn came up and took my arm and gave me a tug.  “Come with me, Tim,” she said.

                I came, not saying goodbye to the others.  She gave them all a single glance, a glare out of a face that I could see had an angry and upset expression on it.

                I let Jocelyn lead me down a corridor and then another corridor until we reached one door.  Jocelyn opened the door and almost pushed me inside.  It was a bare room, with two bare mattresses.  “This was my room,” Jocelyn said, “or, I mean, I shared it with Janie or Joan most of the time.”

                “I shared my room with my brother,” I said, “until he went to college.”

                Jocelyn didn’t hear me.  She walked into the room and turned around and sat down on one of the bare mattresses.  “It seems so…so empty now.  I had my half and Joan had her half and it’s all gone now.”

                “Have you stayed here since you, ah, moved out?”

                “No, there’s a guest room, other end of the house, I stayed there.”  Jocelyn gave way to a flash of anger.  “My parents!  I couldn’t believe what they said!”

                I sat down next to her and patted her thigh---the dress Jocelyn wore had come up to about the middle and I patted the flesh of the thigh.  I said, “I think I can tell you a little.  I talked with your brother and brother-in-law.”

                Jocelyn looked alarmed.  She eased away from me a little.  “What did they tell you?”

                “That your parents think I’m marrying you for your family’s money.”

                “Oh, you heard.”  Jocelyn shook her head.  “They must have had a private investigator look into you.  Names of family, properties, bank accounts, debts, mortgages.”

                “Well, I don’t have any debts.  I’m in the clear.”

                “Yes, they admitted that.  But you’ve got to admit---no, no.”  She held up her hand and shook her head at the same time.  “You don’t have to say anything, admit anything.  It’s my parents who are to blame.”

                Jocelyn stood up.  “Let’s get out of here, Tim.  I don’t see any point in sitting through a boring lunch next to Vince Knebel.”

                That was Vince’s last name?  Knebel, pronounced with the “K?”  I hadn’t gotten it before.  I looked at Jocelyn and tugged at her arm.  “Sit down.  You’re upset.”

                “You bet I’m upset!” Jocelyn said.

                “Well, Jocelyn, I’m upset, too.  I’m being accused of something, something that’s not true.  Did they out-and-out accuse me of, uh, fortune-hunting?”

                “Nno….”  Jocelyn dragged out the syllables, hesitant.  “Not in so many words, but that was what they, they implied.”

                I sighed.  I decided to suppress my own anger at the whole situation, at least as well as I could.  I got Jocelyn to sit down again with a tug and then took her hands in mine.  “Look.  I’ll say it.  I love you.  I want to marry you.  As long as you’re willing to have me.”

                She blinked, then nodded.

                I went on.  “I admit my family does not have that much money, maybe not compared to your family, but, well, we’ve always gotten by.  My parents put three of us children through college without us children having to go deep into debt.  They didn’t go into debt either.  My parents look forward to a comfortable retirement.”

                Jocelyn nodded again.

                “Besides that, I can earn a living.  I’ve already got a job with Bert Gilligan’s company---”

                “Er, before you go too far with that, Tim.”  Jocelyn sniffed, and said, “My parents said---I mean, they implied---that they were going to put the screws on Bert Gilligan to get him to fire you.”

                “What?  No!”  I felt shock.  I’d just been talking with Bert Gilligan---I had not seen any sign that he had spoken about something like that with anybody, much less Jocelyn’s parents.  He seemed normal.

                In fact---   “Jocelyn,” I said, “I’ve known Bert Gilligan for a while, since college.  In all honesty, I don’t think he would give in to something like that.  Your parents have a connection with the company he works for?”

                Jocelyn shrugged.  “I know my parents are friends with his parents.  I’ve known him, on and off, since we were kids.  We went to the same school.”

                “I just don’t think he’d do that.”  I looked away and then grinned.  “Besides, there are other companies.”

                “Maybe not near here, near me,” Jocelyn said.  She stopped, and before I could bring up anything else, she held up a hand and said, “Let’s not talk about me quitting my job, or you finding one.  This has nothing to do with any of that.  I want to be with you, you want to be with me, and everything else is just a detail.”

                She sighed.  “But my parents---” she said and let her sentence trail off after three words. 

                Once again, I patted her thigh---in moving around, she had pulled the skirt of her dress down a little and I patted fabric.  “Look, Jocelyn, however I feel, I don’t want to come between you and your parents.  Maybe I should talk with them.”

                “Yes, maybe.”  But as I started to stand up, Jocelyn held onto my arm and I stayed sitting down.  “No, Tim, not now.  Later.  After they have more time---weeks, maybe, or months, even---more time to think about it.  They’ll figure it out.  They had better.”

                That time, Jocelyn stood up.  I stood up with her, but she said, “No, Tim, you stay here for the moment.  The bathroom is down the hall, and I need to fix my face.”

                Jocelyn hadn’t worn, didn’t wear much makeup, but what she had was in fact a little mussed-up.  I nodded and sat down again.  She went to the closed door, turned and smiled at me---and her smiles just lit me up inside---and said, “I won’t be long.”

                I sat down, twiddled my thumbs in a figurative manner, and waited.  And thought.

#

                It was more than twenty minutes---I checked the clock on my phone a couple of times.  Jocelyn’s face did look better.  And she had done something to her dress, something I could not define.

                “Let’s go,” Jocelyn said.  “We’ve got to get in our seats, you in yours, and me in mine, far away.”

                I took her hand.  “Look, Jocelyn, if this whole thing upsets you, let’s slip out together and just leave and go home.”

                Jocelyn smiled.  “No, if we did, I’d never hear the end of it.  We’ll stick it out, then leave.”  Her smile got a little broader…almost an evil smile, I thought.  “I’ve got something in mind, if something comes up.”

                “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” I said.  I sighed and said, “Well, we had better get out there.”  It was almost noon.

                She reached over and hugged me.  “I’m glad you understand.”  I hugged back, feeling good about it.

                While we were in each other’s arms, I said, “Jocelyn, you don’t think I am what your parents think, do you?  I mean, fortune hunter and all that.”

                We broke off our hug and Jocelyn said, “Of course not!  And even if you were, I wouldn’t care!  I’ll make my own way in the world.  I’m not getting anything from my parents right now, and that can just go on.”  She winked.  “Do your parents think I’m a fortune hunter.”

                “I…ah…haven’t let them know about us, yet.”  It seemed like an appalling lapse once I said that.  “I don’t think they’ll mind.  I don’t know.”

                Jocelyn sighed.  “Well, my parents are going to be difficult enough.  We’ll deal…we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”

                Now it was my turn to hug her first.  And gave her a kiss.  It was as if we melted in each other’s arms.  But it didn’t last long.  We broke off, straightened our clothes, and were off.

#

                We went back to the tent attached to the house.  It was large, a giant tent, and there were several tables laid out within the tent.  Long tables, forty-foot folding tables covered with tablecloths and dishes and silverware.

And people were sitting at the tables already.  I looked around.  There was one table at the far end of the tent.  People milled about, and some were already seated at the tables.  Behind it, I saw Jocelyn’s parents, chatting with Vince.

                Vince looked in our direction and said something to Jocelyn’s parents.  I couldn’t hear what---we were too far away for me to make out anything.  Jocelyn’s mother turned and looked, then gestured for someone else to come over.  They were approached by a tall man with a white jacket---the head waiter?  I noticed several white-jacketed men and women around.

                In all honesty, the first thing I thought of was I had no idea what we would be eating.  I hadn’t thought to ask.

                In any case, the tall man---must have stood a full head over everyone else around---came over, threaded himself around the other guests, and made a beeline straight for Jocelyn and me.  “Ah, Miss Jocelyn,” he said, “and you must be Mister Deacon.”  He had an artificial smile on his face---something that made me long for one of Jocelyn’s smiles.

                Jocelyn knew him.  “Yes, Ambrose?” she asked.

                Ambrose kept his smile on his face, and now his face had a slight hint of having to do something he found distasteful.  “Miss Jocelyn, I am instructed to show Mister Deacon to his place at the table.  You are to sit with your parents.”

                “Yes, I can find my way.”  Jocelyn looked sad for a moment, then said to me in a whisper, “Don’t be surprised at what I might do.”

                “What you might---are you planning on doing something?”

                “It all depends.”  Jocelyn looked at Ambrose, who appeared to have heard.  “Nothing terrible.  At least I don’t think so.”

                “Yes, Miss Jocelyn,” Ambrose replied, then with a wave of his hand said, “This way, Mister Deacon.”

                “Just a moment,” Jocelyn said.  “Hold this for me.”  She handed me her small matching white purse.  “I don’t want to lose it.”

                “Lose it?”

                “Mislay it, then.”

                “Sir,” Ambrose said.  “If you will follow…”

                I nodded and followed him.  I looked back and saw Jocelyn head for the head table and her parents.

                My place was at the far end of one of the long tables, just as far from the main table as was possible.  To my surprise, I found Bert Gilligan sitting next to me.  He laughed and said, “I had to slip something to Mister Ambrose to get here.  Isn’t that right, Mister Ambrose.”

                “Yes, sir, Master, er, Mister Gilligan,” Ambrose replied.  “You would have been near the head of one of the other tables.”  He pulled out the chair for me to sit in.  “Here, sir.”

                I sat down.  Ambrose nodded and left.  Bert Gilligan went on.  “I figured you might need somebody to talk to.”

                I put Jocelyn’s purse on the table, and said, “I do have more questions.  You aren’t in any trouble over hiring me, are you?”

                He shook his head.  “No.  A little flak from the Sutton parents, but they haven’t said anything to me straight.”  He blinked.  “My bosses at the company were pleased at the idea of getting you.  Your reputation as a project troubleshooter comes before you.  They were glad to know you were available.”

                “You don’t think the Suttons, Jocelyn’s parents, could interfere with that.”

                “I rather doubt it.”  He raised a goblet glass---it appeared to have red wine in it---and said, “Skoal!”  As he took a sip, I regretted not having a glass.  I didn’t drink but it seemed, what with the rough of the day, I could use one.

                Better to stay sober, I thought.  I looked.  Jocelyn stood with her parents, and they were talking---they were way too far to hear or even make out their lips and try to read them.

                I noticed Vince hanging around in the background, not part of the conversation.  He had a smile on his face.  Hard to tell from a distance, but it seemed he was happy.  About what---I couldn’t tell at this distance.

                Jocelyn’s two sisters and their husbands were already sitting at either end of that table.  Others---relatives?---were getting into seats.  But for the moment Jocelyn and her parents and Vince were still standing, talking.

                By then, most everyone had taken a seat.  I saw Ambrose and others guiding people in, and food was being laid out on plates.  Seemed like barbecue.  I wondered if someone would take an order, or if I’d get just what comes.  It looked like it would take some time before they got down to our end of the table.

                Jocelyn and her parents sat down.  Jocelyn sat next to her mother---and Vince.  I had a good look into Jocelyn’s face.  She looked very unhappy.  I wondered if she could see me…wondered what my face would show.  I sure didn’t want to see Jocelyn unhappy.

                But then Jocelyn’s father, on the other side of her mother, stood up.  He had a knife in his hand, which he used to tap on a glass in front of him.  With each ding-ding-ding, the noise of the party died down and attention was on him.

                He made a throat-clearing noise, then said, “People…friends.”  He looked around, then said, “Many of you attended the wedding of our daughter Patricia last week.  It had been our hope that we could make this announcement at the reception afterwards, but it wasn’t possible.”

                Jocelyn glared at him, I could see.

                “But we can make the announcement today, people.”  Jocelyn’s mother and Vince stood up.  Jocelyn stood up right after---I saw Jocelyn’s mother tug on Jocelyn’s arm, and Jocelyn did a slow rise.

                Her father went on.  “We are pleased to announce---”

                “Just a minute!  Just a minute!”  Jocelyn waved one arm.  “I’ve got something to say now!”  She was louder, and her voice was more piercing.

                “Jocelyn!” her mother said.

                Jocelyn ignored her.  “My parents want to announce that I’m engaged to Vincent Fara, here.  I want you to know he proposed and I said no!”

                I was on my feet, and saw I wasn’t alone, others had too.

                Jocelyn’s mother tried to grab Jocelyn’s arm, but Jocelyn shook her hand off and stepped up.  She put a leg on the chair and climbed up on that and stood on the table.  “My parents are trying to get me to marry a man who tells me, again and again, that I look like a boy!  I won’t do it!”  She was shouting.

                Jocelyn’s hand went up to the neckline of her dress.  And with one hard tug she pulled the dress loose and stood there.

                A gasp from the crowd went up.  I gasped, too---but then, I could see that Jocelyn was wearing the multi-colored bikini she had worn when we first met.  Had she worn that under her dress all along?  Or had she put it on sometime?

                “Do I look like a boy to you?” Jocelyn said, pointing with her thumb to her chest.  She walked across the table---I saw she was thrusting her chest forward, as if she did have large breasts.

                Jocelyn’s father stood up and tried to grab her by the leg, but Jocelyn stepped away and he missed and almost fell on the tabletop.  She looked away and smiled.

                Then she pointed to her chest with her thumb.  “I’m not marrying Vince Fara!  Besides, I’ve met someone else, and I’m going to marry him!”

                Another gasp from the crowd, and many in the crowd looked around, and then in my direction.  I felt myself blushing.

                Jocelyn pointed---at me.  “There he is!  Timothy Deacon!”

                I felt an urge to sink into the floor and disappear.  But then Jocelyn cupped her hands to her mouth, and shouted, “Timothy!  Will you marry me?”

                That seemed to shock Jocelyn’s parents.  Her mother fell back in her chair and seemed to faint.  Her father stopped another try at grabbing Jocelyn’s legs, then turned to her mother and started to prop her up.  Her mother revived---if it was a faint---and sat up, her face angry.

                I could see Vince’s face.  His face was a mask of rage.

                Jocelyn started to get down from the table, on the other side.  I heard a whisper in my ear.  “Go to her.”  I turned.  It was Jocelyn’s brother John.

                I took his advice.  I had to round the end of the table, and by then Jocelyn was running past everyone and we met just a little past where I had been sitting.  We fell into each other’s arms and kissed.

                The embrace didn’t last long.  I looked around.  The crowd seemed in shock.  But when we broke our embrace, there was the sound of scattered applause.  I said, “I think we had better go.”

                Jocelyn looked around.  “I think you’re right.  But answer me, Tim.  Will you marry me?”

                “Yes.”

                “Come, then.”  Jocelyn gave me a tug on my arm.  We moved around the tables, slowing down just long enough for Jocelyn to grab her purse.  It made me think, “Your outfit---”

                “Forget it.”  We moved into the house.  No one tried to stop us.

#

                Jocelyn’s car was kind of blocked in by another car.  It turned out Bert Gilligan had followed us.  Without saying a word but giving a single wink and a broad smile to us, he got in his car and pulled it a little forward and we could get out.

                Jocelyn started to get into the driver’s side, but then she said, “Tim, you drive.  I’m, well, a little shaky.”

                “And I’m less?”

                Jocelyn smiled.  It had been an ordeal, and she was starting to recover.

                We were turning onto the highway when I said, “Did you have to do that, Jocelyn?”

                “Oh, yeah.”  I couldn’t look straight into Jocelyn’s face, but I sensed her tone.  Nervous, fearful, but starting to relax.  Jocelyn said, “I told my mother, again, that I was not going to marry Vince.  She said it was settled.”

                “That was when you were alone with your parents?” I asked.

                “I couldn’t tell you before---besides, I didn’t know that Dad would get up and start to make an announcement.”

                “You must have suspected something.”  I tried to glance over at Jocelyn, but the traffic kept my attention beyond a single turn of the head.  I said, “I mean, you had that bikini on under your dress.”

                “I had it in my purse.”  Jocelyn chuckled.  “It didn’t take up much space.  I put it on in the bathroom and also made a couple of cuts in my dress so I could pull it off like that.  I’d plan to confront Vince with it, but my parents---well, you were there.  You heard.”

                I nodded.  “Did you mention my name to your parents when you talked to them alone?”

                “No, I’ve got to say, I didn’t.  But it was a matter of being difficult to get words in edgewise, as they say.  My mother talked, and I could put in just the occasional start of a sentence.”

                “I see.”

                I supposed there were many more details to fill in, like how others in her family seemed kind of sympathetic, or why Vince seemed so convinced Jocelyn was a boy, or for that matter why Vince would go along with an engagement announcement when Jocelyn rejected him.  Or had she?

                But that was for more in-depth conversation…later.  Right now, we were on the road, back to town.  After a lull, with nothing but traffic noise by us, I said, “So now what do we do?”

                “I hadn’t thought about it,” Jocelyn said.  “I suppose we just go back and pick up where we left off.”  Jocelyn slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out her phone.  “I’m glad this was on mute,” she said.  “I’ve got calls from my parents already.  My sisters, too.  And…well, I don’t recognize this number, and it doesn’t say who.”

                “Nothing you have to deal with now?”

                “Nothing I want to deal with.  We’ll just ignore them, until my parents cool down.”

                “I don’t think I can look at my phone now.  But never mind.  I do think there’s one more thing we should be doing.”

                “What’s that?”

                “Getting married.”

                Jocelyn gasped---I guess the thought startled her---but it seemed, not so much.  “Do we go down to City Hall and take out a license?”

                “I don’t know if they’re open on Sundays.  Or if there’s a waiting period.  Or a blood test.”  I sighed.  “When we get home, I’ll do a search and see what has to be done.”

                “When we get home.”  Jocelyn sighed.  “They’ll know where to look for us.”

                “By the time they get there, we’ll be married.  If we can pull it off in time.”  I laughed.  “Maybe we could get Mrs. McVicar and Mr. Metzinger to say we’ve checked out---no, that you checked out, and they’ll look while you’re down in my room, which they won’t mention.”

                Jocelyn laughed at that, too.  She had gotten very tense and some of the tension was starting to leak away.  “Yeah, I, ah, don’t think I mentioned you were staying in the same hotel as I was.”

                “It’s a good sign, I guess.”

                We were silent again for a bit, as we got closer to town.  I said, “You know, Jocelyn, I do think this might have gone better.  But it can’t be helped now.  I don’t want you to lose your family over this.”

                “Oh, I’m sure I won’t.  But it was bad, no doubt about that.”

                “Well, cheer up, some.  We’ll be married soon, or sooner.  And besides---”  I grinned.  “You haven’t met my parents yet.”

                She laughed, and we laughed.  It seemed we had gone from a bad experience to a good beginning.  Jocelyn slipped next to me as we went into town.  I didn’t say anything, thinking of the possibilities.  Nothing ever goes like you think it would.

                But I was happy, and, I think, once over the shock of it, Jocelyn was happy, too.

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