“Okay,” she said, pouring more wine for herself. “Give me five bucks.”
He dug into his wallet and handed it to her. She took his five and another from her wallet, stuffed them ceremoniously in the jar, which she tucked under an arm, and picked up her wine. “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to bed we go.”
She made love with unusual tenderness and gentleness, lingering throughout, and when they had finished, he rolled to his own pillow and said, “I’m gonna let the mutt out.”
She was breathing deeply when he returned. Newf flopped on a throw rug by the bed. Cat had gotten between the pillows while he was gone and opened her mouth with a silent hiss when he got into bed. He put his hand on Nantz’s hip to feel her warmth.
“Go ahead and ask,” she whispered.
“Four-F?” he said.
“Every time we fool around we’ll each put five bucks in the jar. When it’s full, it will pay for our honeymoon.”
“Four-F,” he said again.
“Frequent Fucking For the Future,” she whispered.
They both began to giggle.
She patted his shoulder with a warm hand. “Sleep.”
He fell asleep wondering if he had five dollars for the morning deposit to the jar.
27
They made love at sunrise, put their money in the jar, went down to do their workout routines, and showered.
Nantz had arrived Friday night with only a small duffel bag, but packed a huge suitcase and garment bag after they got out of the shower. When she was done she ceremoniously opened her purse, took out a ten-dollar bill, and put it in the jar. She lay back on the bed and held out her arms. “This one’s on me. Literally,” she added lasciviously.
By noon they were at the airport. He loaded her baggage and followed her through her walk-around and preflight routine. There was nothing about flying and airplanes that he cared for, but she had it in her blood and treated an aircraft like an extension of her body.
“Meet you in Jackson Friday,” he said.
“Plan on 2 p.m. We women will need time for construction before a big party.”
“I’ll bring a wad of fives,” he said.
She smiled and kissed him. “Sorry I can’t pick you up,” she said.
“Lori’s schedule is awful again this week.”
“I don’t mind driving,” which was true. “We’ll need wheels down there. I’ll call Tree about meeting him and Kalina for dinner on Saturday. You’re sure your boss won’t mind?”
“I suspect she and Whit are gonna be doin’ just what we’re gonna be doin’.”
Whit was the senator’s stay-at-home husband. “Ooh,” he said. “Our aspiring governor likes nookie?”
She poked him. “All women like sex—with the right man.” She paused and added, “And sometimes with the wrong man.”
Before he could say anything she added, “You fit into both categories, big boy. You’ll need a tux next weekend. I’ll take care of it. Bring your good black shoes.”
“The pumps or the sling-backs?” he said.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. He said, “The only black shoes I have are boots.”
“You want to polish them up, that’s okay by me.”
He said, “I’ll get some new ones. You sure a suit won’t do?”
“This will be a deep-pockets crowd, very neufy.”
They lingered in an embrace until she said, “Okay, gotta kick the tires and light the fires.”
“This thing has propellers,” he said.
“Whatever,” she said with a wink.
She got into the Cessna, closed the hatch, and started the engines. He saw her focused inside the cockpit and talking on the mike when she looked over at him, snapped off a crisp salute, blew a kiss, released brakes, and taxied away.
He watched her take off to the west and bank southeast toward Traverse City, experiencing a surge of fear as he pictured her all alone in the cockpit; but she was happy and knew what she was doing, and if she wasn’t worried, he wouldn’t be either. Too much.
Next Friday night they would be in Jackson and he would meet Siquin Soong, he thought as Nantz disappeared from sight. He had no desire to see the captain tonight. Instead, he called McCants who was patrolling in the Haymeadow Marsh area. They agreed to meet at a picnic ground at Haymeadow Falls. He was to bring fresh coffee.
The days were shortening and the tamaracks, aspens, and birches along Haymeadow Creek were beginning to show the result of reduced light, which kicked in chemical reactions that turned needles and leaves a pale yellow or bright gold. Some leaves were beginning to drop, spackling the ground like a sloppy painter’s palette. He breathed in the damp earth and decaying leaves, the perfume of fall hanging in the still air.