6 Aunt Roro 02

"No, ma'am. We have got the rooms all fixed up, thanks to Mrs. Martin."

Andrew picked up the bags he'd left by the back door.

"I will show you where you are sleeping while Bobby fixes drinks." He walked over to a door and peered into another room. "Mrs Martin has the table all set for dinner." He turned to Rose, who felt perspiration trickle down her back. "would you like to follow me, Ms. Marti?"

"Of course," she managed to reply, and even made her voice sound remote and cool. She turned to her niece. "Francisca?"

"I will be along in a minute." Francisca rearranged Pookie in her arms. "Bobby's going to show me where pook can go do his business."

And of course that couldn't wait, not with a dog whose bladder was the size of a dime. "Oh, fine."

But nothing was fine Rose thought, following the tall cowboy out of the kitchen. He didn't remember her, she told herself, hoping for some kind of comfort in the thought. He must have had lots of sex in lots of hotel rooms during lots of blizzards.

And they had exchanged names, but she'd told him she was Roro. She'd never thought his name was, Andrew Johnson, was real. Who would do that?

Well, someone you thought you'd never see again, of course.

He led her past an old-fashioned dining room, down a wide hall and around a corner to a narrow set of stairs. "This is the back way," he said . "There's a front staircase off the living room, but no one uses it. But you can if you want."

She didn't say a word. And she didn't remove her sunglasses, despite the darkness of the staircase as they made their way upstairs. They stood at the end of a hall that smelled inviting, whose wood floors gleamed with fresh polish underneath dust-free pastel scatter rugs.

"You are here on the right," Andrew said, pushing open a door with his elbow. She followed him into a dimly lit room, the window shades drawn against the late afternoon sun. "It's small," he said, "but you have your own bathroom. We thought you'd like privacy."

She felt like an idiot with her sunglasses still on, so she slipped them off and held onto them as casually as she could manage and turned away to admire the yellow-stripped wallpaper and pine dresser. She glanced at the Double bed, simply made with white sheets, a blue and yellow flowered comforter folded at one end, and then dared to look at Andrew.

She'd pretend he was a stranger, no matter if he said otherwise. "It's lovely. And where is Francisca sleeping?"

"Across the hall. The upstairs hasn't been used for years, so make yourself comfortable." He dropped her bags at the foot of the bed.

"Thank you." So he didn't recognize her, she decided, despite the fact that he was gazing at her and frowning. "I guess I'm not exactly what you expected. How old was I supposed to be?"

He almost smiled, but something stopped him.

"About ninety. Have we met before?"

"I doubt it."

The man had the nerve to step closer to her. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." She held his gaze for as long she dared, then pretended to admire the room again.

"Do you go to Chicago often?"

"Chicago?" Rose edged toward the bathroom door. when in doubt, hide. "No. I teach algebra at...."

"Then you don't travel," he interrupted, as if he didn't want to hear anything other than her vacation plans.

"Not very often. I spend summers in Massachusetts," she declared, then shot him a bright smile.

"Mr. Johnson, would you mind excusing me? I'd like to freshen up."

"No problem. I will go get the rest of the bags."

"You don't have to wait on us. we can...."

"You don't understand, lady," the man said.

She hadn't forgotten how handsome he was, not in the months since she'd last him sprawled naked in the hotel bed. He'd hogged the covers, but she'd managed to snuggle against his back and stay warm. Very warm.

"Understand what?" Blue eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders and a very stubborn chin were not things she could forget easily, especially since those shoulders had pinned her very nicely to a mattress.

"My job is to show you around, take you places, see that you are happy."

"That's ridiculous. I certainly don't need...."