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She waited for the sandwiches to cool, then followed
his
lead by picking up a quarter in her fingers, and taking
a
good bite. She knew she was in trouble almost at once. The cheese had a delectably sharp taste, but refused to separate from the bread when she bit down. When she lowered it to the plate, long thin streamers of cheese continued to stick to the portion in her mouth.

‘That’s lovely, Harry,’ she mumbled as she tried to break loose from the threads. ‘What kind of cheese did you use?’

‘Mozzarella,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t that a great taste?’ He
was
having as much trouble as she was, but it didn’t seem
to
bother him at all.

‘It’s fine, just fine,’ she congratulated him. But she picked up her knife and fork, and very carefully cut the sandwich into bite-sized pieces before she continued.

‘That was a fine meal, Harry,’ she repeated later as he cleared the table, stuffing the dishes helter-skelter into the dishwasher.

‘Well, making a meal is a pretty simple thing,’ he flung back over his shoulder. ‘Any sensible man could do it 2 he had to.’

‘Oh, of course,’ she murmured politely. She got to her feet, excused herself, and crutched her way out into the hall before her temper boiled over. Any man could do it! Meaning, of course, that making a meal might be a problem for a poor simple woman, but
man
need only apply his intellect to the situation, and it would be solved. ‘Damn you, Harry King,’ she muttered. ‘You’re not only a chauvinist, but you’re too egotistical to know it! Regardless of what your sister says.’ Still shaking her head, she meandered over to the door and went outside.

The wind had dropped, and the temperature had risen again. She crutched herself half-way down the path and looked off to the west. Storm clouds were piling up again over Washington County. Big billowing black clouds, occasionally lit by flares of lightning. Her raincoat, she remembered, was still in the back of the VW. Better get it now, she told herself, and moved carefully down the path to the gate. She had been surprised to see that the gate was closed. Now she got an even greater surprise. The gate was locked! A huge padlock, which normally hung on a peg beside the gate, now swung stolidly from the jointure of the heavy chain that sealed the gate shut!

She rattled the gate to be sure. It moved an inch or two on its pinions, but no farther. Why had Harry locked the gate after them? Deep in the pit of her stomach an answer sprang up. She felt a wave of emotion, anger, sweep over her. And then she saw the taxi pulling into the parking lot. Anger turned to elation. She struggled back up the walk to the house. He was standing in the open front door, a bland innocent look on his face.

‘Harry, the gate is locked,’ she announced through lips pressed hard together to keep from laughing.

‘Perhaps to keep strangers out?’ He refused to meet
her
eye, glancing instead at the beginnings of the storm massing above them, looking very much like a boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.

‘Mr King,’ she said flatly. ‘For once, the plain unvarnished truth. Why is the gate locked?’

‘Okay, Katie,’ he said sombrely, still fidgeting. ‘The truth. The gate is locked, and it’s going to stay locked until you and I have had a long talk.’

‘So,’ she hissed at him, ‘I’m a prisoner? Your prisoner?’

‘Now, Katie,’ he pleaded, ‘it’s not that bad. I locked it as well to keep people out, you know. It gives us a chance to know each other, without all the interruptions that go on around this crazy place.’

‘Well, I think you’d better give it a second thought,’ she said, turning her back on him. Not just to see the tall thin figure of the woman stalking over the bridge, but also to keep herself from giggling in his face.

‘Why should I?’ he gruffed. ‘I think it’s a grand plan.’

‘Your grand plan has just come unstuck,’ she returned, unable to restrain herself any further. ‘You have
a
visitor.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he growled, peering down at the gate. ‘Some old biddy. She can’t get in.’

‘She’d better, Harry King, if you know what’s good for you.’

‘What the devil are you talking about? Do you know her?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ And the giggles broke loose. She wheeled around to look up into his startled beet-red face. ‘You’ve struck out at last, mountain man. That’s the Seventh Cavalry coming to the rescue. Or, to be more precise, that old biddy down there is my Grandmother Russel!’

The
kitchen seemed very crowded, although there were only three of them there. Grandma Russel sat down abruptly in the biggest of the kitchen chairs and sighed. ‘At my age,’ she mourned, ‘to have to shorten my Miami vacation and come climbing around these stupid mountains. You’d have a fine lot of land here, sonny, if only it wasn’t piled up and down. You couldn’t pull it out and stretch it flat?’

‘We—uh,’ he stammered. Katie moved around the table for a better view, a wide grin on her face. She had stood to attention during Grandmother’s interrogations more times than one. Mr Harry King was about to have his head handed to him, piece by piece.

‘We people sort of like it this way,’ he finally got out. The matriarch looked around at her grandchild. ‘Somebody—some Aunt Grace—?’

‘Yes, Aunt Grace,’ Katie confirmed.

‘Aunt Grace called your mother yesterday, and gave her some mishmash about you had a broken foot, and would be all alone up here at the mercy of some man. You know how your mother dithers. Rather than tell her husband, she called me in Florida. And here I am. Is this the man?’

It hardly seemed worth pointing out that there was only one man on view. ‘Don’t like red-headed men,’ Grandma continued. ‘Never did. Devious, they are. What’s your name, sonny?’

‘Er—King,’ he gulped. ‘Harry King. You look a great deal like your—like Katie, ma’am.’

‘Typical,’ the old lady snapped. '
I
came first. Seventy- one years ago, to be exact.
She
looks somewhat like me. Wear the same size clothes, we do. Or at least we did.

Katie, you look like a scarecrow. They’ve not been feeding you?’

Before Katie could whip up a reasonable answer there came a pounding on the door. ‘Better tend to your door,’ Grandma said grandly. ‘I don’t answer doors, and my poor Katherine has a broken foot.’

Harry had been just ready to sit down, and actually had his knees half-flexed when the first knock came. At the second pounding, a look of confusion on his face, he went down the hall to the front door. When he came back there was a small white-haired man with him.

‘She said you would pay, Mr King,’ the man said. ‘All the way from the airport at Johnson City, mind you. I was goin’ to turn her down, you know, and I was all set to say so, when the first thing I know we was driving down the highway. She said you was going to pay.’

‘I’ll pay, I’ll pay,’ Harry groaned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. His eyes blinked when the taxi driver told him the amount, but he peeled off the required payment.

‘Katherine,’ Grandma snapped. ‘No hospitality? No coffee? Don’t tell me you can’t get around at all?’

‘I—I can get around,’ she returned, blushing. ‘Coffee?’

‘You too, Mr—?’ Grandma turned to the cab driver. ‘We can’t have you driving off in a storm without at least a cup of coffee.’

‘Lauder, ma’am,’ the driver said. ‘Frank Lauder. And I’d be pleased to have a cup of coffee.’ He took the chair she motioned him into. Harry stood with his mouth half-open. At Katie’s giggle he snapped it shut and glared at her.

She bustled as best she could, with her mind not at all on what her hands were doing. He looks as if he’s just been assaulted by half the army, she told herself. And if Grandma keeps it up she’ll cut him down from six foot four to two foot nothing. And why does that bother me? Because—because I don’t want that to happen, that’s why! Because underneath that disguise of his he’s really such a nice guy—and I imagine that I—that any girl— could fall in love with him. Even Eloise. His ego is important to him—and he’s important to me! She stopped what she was doing and sent a pleading look at her grandmother. And got back a non-committal smile.

The men carried the coffee mugs to the table. The cab driver treasured his between his hands, warming them. Grandma Russel sipped delicately at hers. Harry gulped, and immediately sputtered as the hot liquid brought him to his senses. Katie barely touched hers, but kept her eyes on their faces.

‘So now,’ Grandma said. ‘What do you do for a living, Mr King?’

The cab driver leaned interestedly forward. ‘I’m an inventor,’ Harry returned. ‘I invent things. You know.’

‘Oh yes. I know.’ Grandmother was being her sweetest. ‘We have a couple of men like you in my home town, so you don’t have a steady job?’

‘Well—’ Harry stuttered. ‘I work every day, if that’s what you mean.’

‘He works very hard,’ Katie interjected. He looked up and smiled across the table at her, a special
thank you
smile.

‘Of course,’ Grandma continued in her musing, ‘some men are like that. They never seem to realise that it’s less work to have a job than to keep avoiding one. Never
ever
had a steady job, have you?’

His face was stone-carved. The fingers of one hand drummed on the table top. Lord, he’s mad, Katie told herself. Like a volcano. Any minute now, his top is going to blow off, and there’ll be lava all over the kitchen! But then, very slowly, it was no longer anger that formed facial contours. His lip twitched, and a worried expression flashed at her out of those deep blue eyes. As if he wanted to impress someone.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I had a job when I went to college. I worked as a waiter. Does that count?’

‘A college man? Well, that wouldn’t be held against you. Not ordinarily. Enjoy the hard work, did you?’

‘I can’t say that I did, now that I think back on it. Inventing seems to be a much better way of life. Oh, I spent some time in the army, too. In Vietnam. Does that count?’

‘That’s something. Nothing I like better than a boy who serves his country. Work your way up, did you?’

‘I—well—all the way to Private First Class.’

‘Ain’t wrong to be ambitious,’ Mr Lauder commented. ‘And there’s plenty of jobs down in the valley. White Cabs could use two more drivers, tell the truth. You drive?’

‘Can’t say that I do,’ Harry reflected grimly. ‘Besides, I couldn’t stand all those talkative customers.’

‘Ah, there’s always that,’ the driver responded sadly. ‘Talk, talk, talk. Makes a man old before his time.’

‘Don’t you have to get back to work, Mr Lauder?’ Katie felt compelled to get him out of the way. The cabbie took the hint. He took one last swig at the coffee, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and got up. Harry escorted him to the door. Sitting in the kitchen, the two women could hear his high-pitched laugh as he had a parting word.

‘You be sure to let me know how it all turns out!’

‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ rolled Harry’s deep bass. ‘Nice to have interested neighbours—I think.’

Katie looked over at her grandmother and caught the solemn look playing at the corners of her mouth. ‘I came, young lady, because it seems to me you’re in a terrible fix.’

‘I don’t know what you mean, Grandma.’

‘I do believe you’re a little slow,’ the old lady laughed. ‘You don’t have the slightest idea what he’s about, do you? You know, there’s someone he reminds me of—I can’t seem to put my mind to it exactly. Oh well, it’ll come to me. Has he asked you to marry him?’

‘Yes—well—’ Katie sighed. ‘He seems to have this thing against marriage. He wouldn’t mind a live-in girlfriend, but the ring bit, that seems to put him off.’

‘I know. I’ve seen a passel of them before.’ Grandmother shifted herself around in the chair to get comfortable. ‘Lost too much flesh myself, I have,’ she grumbled. ‘Bones stick out everywhere. When sittin’ ain’t fun, lovin’ ain’t either. Your grandfather used to say that. Well, don’t worry your head about him, girl. He’s no prize. We’ll start off to Ohio tomorrow morning. Everybody is expecting you. Marion is head over tea-cup about the wedding. Like this man, do you?’

‘I—I’m not sure,’ Katie sighed. ‘Well, I’m sure about me, but not about him. I don’t think—’

‘That’s the trouble with your generation,’ her grandmother interrupted. ‘Too much thinking. You need to let yourself go!’

‘Grandma!’ Any further conversation was cut off, as Harry came back into the room.

‘Now, where were we,’ he asked, rubbing his hands together in that patented shuffle that meant he was spoiling for a fight. I should have warned Grandma, Katie thought. He’s dangerous when he’s like that. But then so is Grandma!

‘Employment,’ Harry offered.

‘Which you don’t have much of,’ Grandma snapped. ‘Can’t hardly afford to keep yourself, never mind a wife. Huh!’

‘I was thinking about getting work,’ he offered, ‘and then I thought to marry money. Can I offer you supper?’

‘Oh? You cook do you?’ Oh no, not that, Katie screamed to herself. Not that. He’s a major catastrophe in the kitchen. A threat to life and limb!

‘I could cook something,’ she offered. Anything to keep him out of the kitchen. Anything! She struggled up on to her crutches and started to forage for a meal.

‘Too bad about your foot, Katie,’ her grandmother mused from her throne at the kitchen table. ‘However did it happen, Mr King?’

He was caught off-stride again, and the colours flushed through his tan. ‘I—there was this accident.’

‘Oh? Tell me about it.’

‘Grandmother, do you like—’ she interjected, trying to change the subject, but the matriarch had the bit in her teeth, and was running.

‘You know what I like,’ the old lady snapped. ‘Just get about your business while I get about mine. You were saying, Mr King?’

‘It was—well—Katie wanted to get some pictures from the top of the mountain. So I took her up there, and she was taking some snaps, and this rock fell and hit her foot.’