"Dar-r-rling!" Peter caroled, giving me a brain-rattling hug and smooch on the cheek. "Our brave, brave Alex! Heroically wounded in the line of duty! And dearest Fargo! Trying to save you from that horrid man!" He stroked Fargo, who smiled graciously, but didn't move.
"Fargo did save me," I corrected. "If he hadn't awakened me, we wouldn't be here. He's the hero, not me. I just stood there and let Santos bop me one."
"Well," Wolf put in, "We'd have given you a party anyway. You just wouldn't be here to enjoy it."
The other three men gave him looks of deep despair and Vance said quickly, "These things need to be kept cool. We'll go put them in the fridge." I wondered how they were going to fit, but today that was not my problem. He dragged Wolf toward the back door, while Peter and Dan excused themselves to head for the makeshift bar Sonny and Richard had set up near the grill.
Trish and Cindy pulled chairs up close to me. "I'm relieved about Mary," Trish remarked. "I was going to talk with John about a place for her, but this sounds perfect. I wonder where the casus belli is keeping herself?"
Unthinking, I answered. "Oh, she's with her old roomies for awhile, but she'll be transferring back to Boston. She's going into some corporate training program. I hope she gets into some sort of sales job, she'd be good at that."
"Indeed, she would," Cindy agreed. "How did you hear about this, locked up in a hospital, darling?"
"Well, ah, she came by the other morning. You know, kind of to say goodbye and that she was sorry about all that had happened."
Trish drained her glass. "Probably sorrier about what didn't happen."
"At least, we assume it was what didn't happen," Cindy said sweetly. I was delighted to point out the arrival of Jeanine and her husband, bearing a large casserole, and Cindy had no choice but to go and greet them. Trish followed. Maybe Cindy would forget this conversation. Maybe I would win the lottery.
Fargo and I found ourselves alone for the moment, and I don't think either of us minded. I sipped at my excellent Krug. I was watching my intake. I was admiring my tomatoes and peppers from afar, when I heard a raspy, "Hiya, Alex," and looked up to see Harmon standing beside me, attired in clean overalls and a fresh, blue work shirt.
He gave me a horny handshake and then proffered a somewhat ratty looking red geranium in a pot wrapped in foil of violent purple. "Uh, Alex, me and the boys down to the Rat all kicked in, Joe too, to get you this flower and hope you're feelin' better. We was sorry you got hurt."
"Harmon, how lovely! And how nice of all of you to think of me!" I had a great desire to cry. The yellow roses were gorgeous, the Krug champagne was a delectable elegance, but I would treasure that geranium.
Sonny had come over when he saw Harmon arrive and saved me from making a fool of myself. "Harmon! Glad you stopped by. Come on over here with Richard and me and let's get a beer."
"That's good, Sonny. We'll let Alex get her rest. I heard that when you get them concushions, you're s'posed to get lots of rest."
"Indeed." Sonny was trying not to giggle as he steered Harmon toward the bar. I wondered what the very proper Richard would think of our latest guest.
I looked around the yard, and took another small sip of my drink. I was alone again, but not really. I was extremely lucky in the assemblage gathered here. I let my hand drop to my side, where it encountered a sleek black pelt. Fargo—especially, always—Fargo.
The Weekend Visitor Page 21
