Three Little Words

I was already feeling the effects of so much alcohol, but Christy quietly rescued me a few minutes later. She sat on the arm of my chair, took my nearly full glass, and sipped it without giving it back. Marianne saw and winked at me. Her own drink looked to be more water and ice than whiskey.

We talked about who-knows-what for thirty minutes. Then Harry, bless his 80-proof heart, brought me a fresh drink when he refilled his. I took a polite taste and forced a smile. Marianne came to my rescue that time.

“I think I’d like to take a walk.”

“Me too,” I said so quickly that Christy nearly jumped.

“We’ll stay and watch the kids,” Anne said. She and Marianne exchanged a look, and I realized that Something Was Up.

Still, I donned my jacket and helped Christy into her sweater. It was fuzzy white cashmere, and it made her look like a bunny more than ever.

Outside, the cold air did wonders for my concentration. I closed the door behind us, and Marianne unobtrusively lingered between Christy and me.

“Let’s go, Birdy-bird,” Harry said without missing a beat. “Walk with your big brother.”

“Sure.” She glanced at me—she also realized we were being separated—

before she added, “I’d be delighted.”

We strolled toward the entrance to the neighborhood, but Marianne deliberately walked a little slower, until we were safely out of earshot. I didn’t mind, since she clasped my arm and half-leaned into me as we walked.

She was soft and warm, with just a hint of expensive perfume, and if she hadn’t been my girlfriend’s sister-in-law, I would’ve wondered if she had more in mind than just conversation.

“You’re not really that drunk,” she said at last.

“No, but I don’t want to be either.”

She nodded and mulled that over.

“Christy gets a little flirty,” I explained. “And one of us needs to be sober

if we want to… um… wait till the wedding, so to speak.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Marianne said.

I wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed, so I didn’t reply, which made her smile. We walked in silence for a while.

Then she said, “When Danny told us about you, he said you were a cool customer.”

“And what do you think?”

She studied me a moment before she said, “He’s always been a good judge of character.”

“Ah.”

“He also said you care about Birdy.”

“I do.”

“I can tell. And you’re getting serious.”

“We are.”

“Three-little-words serious,” she added.

“That too.”

“And, naturally, she’s been talking to me.”

“Naturally.”

She smiled again. “You are a cool one.”

“It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”

She laughed, bright and musical and genuine. She could’ve been a younger version of Susan, albeit blonde and with even more polish, if that were possible.

“You’re wondering whose side I’m on,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, put your mind at ease. I’m on yours. And Birdy’s.”

“And Anne’s.”

“Yes.” Her perfectly colored lips pursed with a grin. “She said you’re quick.”

“I see who’s really running the show in the Carmichael clan.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘running the show,’” she said. “Just… offering opinions here and there.”

“Does Harry realize he married a younger version of his mother?”

“I think he does now. But we’re a good team. We want the same things.”

She glanced at me sideways. “You and Birdy do too.”

“I think so.”

“Then let’s talk about this ski trip of yours.” She went on before I could

tense up. “This isn’t going to be a conversation about your intentions.”

I nodded with more than a bit of relief.

“We both know what they are,” she laughed. “Birdy’s too, for that matter.” We walked in silence while she decided what to say next, until she nodded at the couple ahead of us. “Harry and his father and brothers think she’s led a sheltered life.”

“She hasn’t?”

“Oh, please. We both know better. No girl is ever as innocent as her father thinks.”

I shrugged noncommittally.

“But Birdy doesn’t really have a lot of experience in the… um… How should I put this?”

“In the bedroom department?”

“No, not exactly. She knows plenty about certain bedroom activities. But not as much about… the marital one.”

“Ah. Right.”

“You have a lot more experience in that department, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. She looked over and waited for me to boast or deny it or something. She’d have to wait a long time, she realized, which made her smile. Again.

“What makes you say that?” I said at last.

She chuckled, low and throaty and suggestive.

I waited.

“Most guys your age would be flustered, especially walking arm-in-arm like this, with my body pressed against them. Or they wouldn’t be able to walk at all.” She smiled up at me. “I know the effect I have on men. But not you. I felt that as soon as I took your arm.”

“Oh? You did?”

“Mmm hmm. You reacted, but like a grown man—an experienced man—

not a horny teenager.”

“So you’re flirting with me on purpose?”

“Sort of,” she admitted. “I like you. And I’m fairly sure you know the difference between harmless flirting and the serious kind.”

“So you’re harmless?”

“Yes. As far as you’re concerned, at least.”