The next Saturday the fog was heavy. "She won't be there," Monty kept repeating during the ride over.
"She will," said John, turning the craft north toward the beach.
"What you makes me such an expert on women?" Monty grumbled, wanting desperately to believe him.
John grinned. "I'm Irish."
Monty groaned. This ride could not be over soon enough.
She was there waiting for them, her rucksack over her shoulder. John gloated as he set the flitter down, but Monty barely heard him. He had never been so happy to be wrong.
He jumped out first and kissed her hand. She allowed it with wry amusement.
"I won't be painting anything but fog today, but the way I see it, you--" she tossed her head to Monty, "still owe me a meal."
"Gladly!" said Monty. He double-checked for his ID this time.
She ordered cod. John and he ordered kippers. Monty wished he'd picked the langoustines again--or anything that took longer to eat. It was the best meal he'd never tasted and it would be over far too soon.
Midway through, John's comm beeped. It was his plasma field lab partner with a crisis in their project.
"So sorry, but I'm going to have to leave and take the flitter," he said. "Do you want to come with?"
"Lesa hasn't finished, and I promised her." Monty's voice took on that slight whine it did when stressed.
She gave him a peculiar look over her fork and chewed purposefully.
"I know Lesa doesn't mind walking. Monty?"
"Ih'll stay." His tone was firm.
"Have it your way," said John. "Ma'am." Again he kissed her hand before leaving.
"If I didn't know better, I would have thought you two planned that." Lesa sipped at her water.
Monty blushed.
"Monty, you're a fine, man and I enjoy your company. You're just so young in the ways of the world--"
"John is only two years older than me!"
She toyed with her fork. "That's not what I meant. It's just that...I'm not someone you want to lose your head over."
"Too late," he said with a goofy grin.
She looked to the wall. "That's what I mean."
"John has a girl, Anne, by the way--back home. I thought that you should know--before you lose your head." Monty blurted it all out at once.
She gave him a quirky smile that radiated a patient tolerance that he couldn't reconcile to the circumstances. "Don't worry about me. I can hold me own with men--and their women."
"So...I can see you again?"
She spread her arms wide apart. "Here I am."
"Ye know what I mean."
"I do. I shouldn't. It may not seem like it, but I am thinking of you."
"You let me worry about me," said Monty. "Tomorrow? You did lose another day of painting."
She thought. "John will come too?"
He pursed his lips. "Aye, if you want." Half a win was better than nothing.
"The same spot, then. Noon. If it's foggy, I could paint you instead."
"You ken do anything you want with me," Monty said.
She rolled her eyes and picked up her rucksack as they went out the door. They were going separate directions; she wouldn't let him see her home, but she waited at the airtram stop with him and kissed him on the cheek before he stepped aboard.