"Now what do we do?" I felt at a loss, a little tired and let down. I hadn't expected to get time off and consequently had made no plans for spending the next ten days. The sun was bright, the clouds were small and fluffy, the air was warm. It was autumn at its best. Surely it would be a shame to waste such wonderful weather.
Pat was speaking, her clear grey eyes thoughtful behind the heavy-rimmed glasses. The soft Louisiana voice was a treat after the harder northern accents of the Canadians.
"I don't know. I haven't made plans to do anything."
"Well then, let's go have some coffee and talk it over."
She nodded and fell into step beside me, her long legs, long for her medium height that is, keeping up with my short ones. In her high heeled shoes she stood as tall as I, her broad shoulders and slim but prettily rounded figure contrasting nicely with my stocky frame. We make a good pair, I thought, she, the American of Irish descent and I, the immigrant Irishman, educated in Canada and naturalized American during the Korean War. She had come to British Columbia just a year ago, when her marriage had broken up, to make a fresh start. The year before that I had returned to Canada to join the staff of the Civic Hospital as a pathologist.
We crossed the parking area to the main hospital building and went into the restaurant through the back entrance.
"How about this table?" I said and pulled out a chair for her. I tipped my head to the girl behind the counter and held up two fingers. The coffee came, not too strong, but at least it was hot. Pat shrugged out of her mackintosh, reached for the Players I held out to her and dragged at the battery match flame. I watched her as she leaned forward over the lighter. The tiny creases at the corners of her eyes, the slightly deeper lines of her mouth, marked her as a woman of thirty, mature, a little worldly, but still attractive. Delightfully so to me, I thought, since, at thirty-five and a casualty of the divorce mill too, I was no longer interested in young girls, good to look at but unseasoned by life.
She sat back in her chair and looked at me quizzically.
"Did I pass inspection?" she said.
I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious. It was a little disconcerting, even after dating her frequently in the last six months, to have my thoughts read the way she seemed to do.