Hathaway's home being the nearest, Lewis drove there first. As James unfolded himself from the car, Lewis was sure he saw James give a thumbs-up to Laura. What was that all about? He really had missed something going on between them, hadn't he?
Shortly after, the car pulled up to Dr. Hobson's house. She did not immediately open the door, however. After a pause, she turned to him rather decisively.
"Why don't you come in for a glass of wine? You've been boringly sober all evening and one glass won't put you over the limit. Besides, I've hardly had a word with you all night."
Feeling a bit put out at being considered boring, Lewis snatched at the opportunity to prove otherwise. He was also a bit surprised at the competitive urge he suddenly felt.
"Why not? I could use a little warm-up. Thanks." After all, he added to himself, this may provide the perfect opportunity to find out what's going on. Not many chances for a one-on-one with the good doctor.
She unlocked the door and gathered up the post, switching on the light as they entered. She put on some quiet music and brought a bottle of tempranillo, two glasses, and a corkscrew from the kitchen. Lewis settled himself in a comfortable chair and Laura sat across from him.
"Would you maybe like something a little stronger, brandy or something?"
"Ahh, no thanks. I only drink brandy when I want to forget."
She pulled the cork, and poured two generous glasses. Lewis took a long swallow, enjoying the warmth that spread downward from his throat.
"You really let Hathaway revel in his own glory on this case, didn't you?"
"Ah, he seemed to be doing so well with it. I just let him take the wheel." He paused. In a quieter voice, "Guess I should start getting used to taking a back seat to him." He realized he was seeking reassurance, and could not for the life of him figure out why.
"Nonsense. He's still wet behind the ears. He got lucky on this case."
"I think he has more luck than I do in more than just our cases, y'know?"
She gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean—socially? James?"
Lewis sighed. "Well, he has that music group and seems to have a lot of friends his own age. Who've I got? I feel like I should be, I dunno, meeting people and doing things with people. I have no idea how to do that these days. What the rules are."
"Women, you mean?"
He gave her a bit of a perplexed look and a shrug. Then,
"Yeah, women. James seems to do okay."
"The rules haven't changed much since the last time you were playing the field, really."
Lewis couldn't help letting out a snort. "Last time I 'played the field,' as you so nicely put it, I ended up marrying the lass I was courting. I don't see myself doing that again." What was he telling her this for? The conversation was going nowhere near the direction he had intended. "I get the impression that James knows much more about all this—y'know, dating and sex and all—despite his priestly inclination."
Laura studied him a bit with narrowed eyes, then cracked a crooked smile. "Are you saying that after all those years of married life, you don't know about sex?"
This kept getting worse. Redirection was needed. "What I mean is, James has experience in that tricky area of figuring out what's expected, what's hoped for, and what's out of bounds when you're with someone you're not married to."
She continued to consider him closely. "Well, how did you figure all that out with Val? When did you know it was the right time to . . . ?" She left the question hanging in the empty air.
"Well, we were married, man! It wasn't hard to figure out, once we were married, we should be . . . y'know, doing something about it."
Now she looked at him with what he recognized as her best, part-mocking, part-serious, interrogating look, head cocked to one side. "Are you telling me, Inspector, that you were a virgin on your wedding night?"
Bloody hell, had he really just told her that? Wildly embarrassed, he shot a glance around the room, anywhere but at the chair across from him. He ended up focused on a point floating somewhere to the side of her left knee. Hoarsely, he muttered, "If you tell anyone—" He took another swallow of wine, hoping it would unclench his throat a bit. If anyone at the station learned this bit of news, he'd never hear the end of it. Finally, he peeked up at her, expecting to see her stifling laughter.
Instead, she was looking at him in a different way, though he wasn't sure how, exactly. She smiled. "Hey. It's okay. Only, I feel a bit like I've just found a unicorn—something you hope exists no matter how unlikely it seems. But don't worry, I'll keep it to myself."
Great. He was a unicorn. So far, his attempt to find out what was going on between James and Laura was costing him a lot, with nothing to show for it.