| OCR Text |
Show 299 That left them with nothing else to say. She looked for some place to put the trowel, and finally tossed it into the wooden tray next to a small square of soil containing two bright flowers. She wiped her palms on the seat of her pants and looked up at him. "I guess you wouldn't want to come in for a few minutes before you have to go find your chaperon?" He looked at his watch and listened to the blood pound in his head. "I could only stay for a minute," he said. * * * * * * In the living room she motioned him to sit down on the couch, and then looked over her shoulder down at the seat of her pants. "I'm too dirty to sit down in these. Let me go put on something else." She disappeared down the hall to the bedroom and was gone long enough to set his pulse fluttering, but when she returned it was in nothing to get excited about after all. She had found an old shirt of Richard's and a clean pair of new jeans that had not shrunk to fit her yet and made her look thin. "Can I get you anything?" she said. "Have you had lunch yet?" "Actually I had something at the hospital," he said, remembering the three cups of coffee that still had his nerves vibrating. She smiled uncertainly. "Well. I guess I'll just sit down then." She sat down on the chair she had sat in the first night he had seen her. She removed her rubber sandals, pulling the thong carefully from between the first and second toe of each foot, spreading her toes, and drew her legs up under her, sank down again, a hand on either arm of the chair, and only then looked at him. "I feel stupid wearing these things and they hurt my toes, but all my shoes are muddy." |
