"I was up for it. It's nice to see the country that way once in a while—you forget how big it is. Those high rolling plains in Montana are something else. They'll have snow in a couple of weeks. I could use some new tapes and a book or two."
"You know the place: Elliot Bay Book Company."
"Yeah, I thought I'd check it out this afternoon. I'm going to get a room at the Edgewater and be Mr. Luxury for a couple of days."
"You could stay with me. Audrey's on a trip for a week; it wouldn't be any hassle."
"Thanks, but I don't want to be in the way . . . I'd take some home cooking, though."
"How about tomorrow night? You could meet Jackson."
"Sounds good. What happened to Rolf?"
"Oh, Rolf. We have lunch. I love Rolf, but he doesn't really want to live in this period. That's what he calls it, 'This period.' He's happier in bookstores reading about early Scandinavian immigrants."
"I was just reading about a Swede who was making cider with a hand press he bought for a quarter when he was 12. It was in the paper this morning. He'd been married 50 years. Said his wife was Norwegian but she was taking pills for it." Kate laughed, a full wraparound laugh. She had her mother's coloring—chestnut hair, light brown eyes, and rosy cheeks.
"You'll like Jackson; he's very different."