The squirrel waited; the blonde went back to her book.
"What," Ted asked hesitantly, "did you mean about doing business?"
"You and the blonde. Don't tell me you wouldn't like to get to know her."
Ted squirmed in his chair. "I—well, she's certainly lovely."
"Sure. I'll go down and sound her out. I'll keep in touch, Truesdale."
The squirrel went down the hill and hopped on the low, red brick wall that bordered the patio. The blonde looked up from her reading.
Was she talking to the squirrel? Her lips were moving.
Then she rose, and went into the house. When she came out again, she put some nuts on the low brick wall. And went back to her reading.
Ted watched for signs of further dialogue, but there were none. The squirrel came up the hill, the nuts bulging its cheeks. It didn't even glance at Ted as it went up the trunk of the tree.
The sun moved behind a cloud and a faint breeze came up from the west. Ted felt drowsy, but he kept his eyes open, waiting for the reappearance of the squirrel.