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Show 101 She would, she said. She had grown used to his man smell, the smell of his dead cigars; and his shortness, his brown shiny bald head only came to eye level, but she was no longer uncomfortable looking down on him, she could relax when they talked. Even enjoy him. "And one more thing." He paused, his small black eyes dancing. "Yes?" "Have a good weekend." He turned and jauntily walked toward the back, a trail of grey cigar smoke following him. She went on out the door with a light step. At the curb Roger was waiting in the car. When he saw her, he smiled, his big face lighting up. And seeing him, the delight on his face in seeing her, she felt suddenly like hugging him. He did kiss her, quickly-he had just shaved, her smelled of the aftershave she had given him for his birthday-and they were off, pulling out of the shopping center onto the street. Underway in traffic, he put his big hand on her knee. "Nervous?" "About tonight? No, not too bad. A little." "You'll like Dad." "I'm looking forward to talking with him." "Everyone does. He's got a way with people." He thought for a moment, checking the rearview mirror, "Basically, he likes people. That's why people like him, I guess." She liked the way he said that. The way he sat behind the wheel, his large hand guiding them down the road: she liked that too. She scooted over closer against him. |