The thunder raises a distant alarm

The waters shift in restless lake

You face great danger for her sake.

A fool and his money are soon parted.

“Have a good retirement, you old witch,” Paul murmured uneasily, and he could have sworn Madame Zelda’s eyes flashed back.

That night, they lay together in Nina’s four poster bed, having made love twice in an hour, first on a lounge pad under the moon on a private piece of deck, and again on the bed, or at any rate, partially on the bed. Bob was in Monterey with his grandfather, and would be flying out of San Francisco on a school trip to Williamsburg on Sunday. He would be gone for the next week.

Nina put a hand on Paul’s cheek and rubbed.

“I love a warm welcome,” Paul said lazily, his eyes closed. “We should argue frequently.”

“No. Let’s never argue again.”

“If we got married and lived in Carmel, we would never argue.” He had said what he came to say. He reached out a hand and ran it over her soft thigh.

“Why don’t you move to Tahoe, Paul?” she replied, not entirely unexpectedly.

“Would you marry me if I did?”

She pushed her head into his chest sleepily, saying, “I would think about it.”

“Yeah, but would you do it?”

“Don’t you know you complicate everything?”

“I don’t see it that way. To me, it’s simple. Man, woman, desire, love, to quote the great Eric Burdon. Oh, I’ve thought about it. But I have a very good business down there. I’ve been working in Carmel longer than you’ve been working in Tahoe. Seriously. Come to me.”

“What about your Washington job?” Her voice was very drowsy.

“I’d drop it like a hot potato for you, my love.”

But Nina had stopped listening. She appeared to have fallen into a nap. Paul yawned. The big bed was a universe unto itself, the covers so thick and warm… he drifted off, too.

Paul woke up about one, his stomach growling. Nina still lay on her side, her long brown hair spilling onto her white shoulder. What a shame he was starving. He shook her gently and said, “Awake, my little honeybee. We skipped dinner. Let’s eat.”

She opened her eyes and seemed glad to see him. What more could a man ask for? Except a good meal?

“But I do have one more question about this business before we throw back the covers and you expose that enticing body of yours to the air and my worshipful gaze.”

“Wha’?” she said.

“About Clifford Wright.”

“What about him?”

“You sure got lucky there.”

“Huh?”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd?”

She was waking up fast now. “Odd?” she said, the intelligence returning to her eyes. As he watched, absorbed by the transformation, the emphases of her face shifted from soft cheeks and full lips to jawbone and eyebrows. “There’s nothing new on him. Case closed. Just a freak medical occurrence.”

“Did you get a chance to look at the coroner’s report on his death?”

“Why would I?”

“Monumental coincidence or act o’ God?” said Paul. “Only Madame Zelda knows, and she’s getting out of the business.”

Her lips drew a hard line. “You smell fish everywhere you go, don’t you? There’s no mystery here. He died of anaphylactic shock from eating something.”

“Most people with allergies find out about it before keeling over in the jury room.”

“Oh, he knew he had food allergies,” Nina said. “He talked about them to everyone, practically. We even knew from all those super-duper quiz sheets we got about the jurors. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“I don’t remember hearing about it.”

“Apparently, he had medicine that might have saved him, but nobody knew. What’s it called…”

“You mean an adrenaline kit.”

“Yes. You poke yourself in the leg with epinephrine, which immediately stops the allergic reaction. Sandy told me about a doctor down in southern California with an allergy to shellfish who recently died from anaphylaxis. Stuck his nose over a pan of boiling seafood. He had forgotten his allergy kit.”

“Why didn’t Wright use his?”

“The jurors say he mumbled something about his jacket, which was right there in the closet, but they thought he was delirious. Deputy Kim found it after he was in the hospital. His breathing became blocked so quickly he never got to use it.”

“So you don’t plan to check further into what happened.”

“Why would I? It’s unfortunate, but nothing to do with me.”

“No urge to examine your gift horse too closely,” said Paul. “I do see your position.” He hadn’t meant it to sound the way it came out, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nina said, pushing his hand off.

“What’s the matter?” he said putting it back.

She batted it firmly away. “Why can’t you just accept it that I won this case, fair and square? Why can’t you let me have that? You chip away at my success, hinting around that I couldn’t have pulled it off if Clifford Wright hadn’t died. Jesus.”

Paul fell silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I never congratulated you. And you’re so terrific, even out of bed. You’re brilliant, beautiful, brave, bosomy…”

“Thank you,” Nina said.

“Soon to be rich,” he said.

Apparently mollified, she said, “Don’t go tacky on me now.”

“Okay, good. Let’s turn our attention back to that very issue that’s hovering around us like a swarm of starving mosquitoes. We need to talk about how this change in your financial status is going to affect our relationship. There are some things to consider.”

“I thought you were starving,” said Nina.

“Shhh.” Turning over to face her, he put a finger over her lips. “Mail-order catalogs, for starters. You can finally afford a pair of those undies… you know the ones, don’t you? With the missing bits here,” he said, showing her where, “and right here.” His hand lingered. “Let’s splurge. Get two, in black silk and red. Net stockings to match and one of those things women wore back in the good old days when men ruled the universe without challenge…”

“A garter belt?”

“That’s it! Yum. The possibilities rise up like… like-”

“Like wet dough!” she said.

“Like a hunk of burnin’ love,” said Paul, inserting his tongue into her ear.

Before she could say another thing, he jumped her.

Then they went down to the kitchen and made toast and eggs and drank all the milk.

On Saturday they rented separate paddleboats and raced each other around Zephyr Cove until the setting sun blinded them, then returned to Nina’s to change into their fanciest duds for a celebration dinner Lindy was hosting at The Summit.

Nina took Paul’s arm as they arrived at the restaurant on the seventeenth floor of Harrah’s. Piano blues surrounded them, sensual as incense.

“I feel so grown up, suddenly,” she said, enjoying the scratchiness of his jacket and happy he was here to share this night with her. “Do you remember the first time we met at that place in Carmel?” She led the way into the restaurant behind the maitre d’.

“How could I forget? A blind date. And then you went off and married Jack.”

“When did we become the kind of people that go to places like this? Where’s the band with the electrified hair and distortion pedal?”

“It’s perfect, Nina,” Paul said, reaching out to shake Winston’s hand.

They sat down at a window table. Outside, way down, the lights of town twinkled. Lindy had already ordered champagne. Sandy, dressed in a shiny amethyst-colored beaded shirt over a long black skirt, argued with Nina over who could order the salmon with lemon couscous and who got the rack of lamb. They compromised by deciding to share. Next to her, Sandy’s son, Wish, demonstrated how to play spoons to a Scott Joplin tune.

Wearing an emerald-green jacket over white slacks and low heels, Lindy faced the window. Nina knew she had invited her friend Alice to the celebration, but Alice couldn’t make it.