Mike. He was wearing a dark long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up casually on his forearms. His jeans were faded and worn, and he had on a pair of low, scuffed boots.
Standing there with a coffeepot in one hand, he looked very much at home, intimidatingly so. He seemed aware of it. "You must be the artist."
Mike blinked but rose to the occasion. He kept his voice just as politely dry as Flint's had been. "You must be the handyman or gardener or something."
Flint nodded agreeably. "That's me. Very handy. Here I am standing here with hot coffee just as you walk in the door. Where else are you going to get that kind of service?"
Rani stepped forward aggressively and took the pot from his hand. "This sort of thing isn't on your list of job duties and you know it," she muttered furiously, sweeping past him into the kitchen. "You've got your own kitchen. Kindly stay out of mine."
"Not my fault you walked in just as I was making the coffee."
"Really?" She smiled dangerously as she hauled cups out of the cupboard. "How long have you been here?"
Flint shrugged, ignoring Mike. "I came over to find something to read earlier and decided to make the coffee."
"Uh-huh. In other words you've been here all evening." Rani swung around, two coffee cups in her hands.
"Excuse me, Flint, you're in the way." She moved forward, silently daring him not to move out of the doorway. When he stepped aside, she hid her relief. "Here you are, Mike. Come on into the living room and sit down. Flint was just leaving."
"Actually," said Flint, "I wouldn't mind joining you. It's been a long, quiet evening. I'm Flint Cottrell, by the way." He nodded at the other man.
"Mike Slater." Mike glanced at him and then smiled quizzically at Rani. "Maybe I'd better be on my way."
He left it a question.
"Don't rush off on my account." Flint sprawled in a chair, a mug of coffee in his hand. Zipp immediately appeared from wherever he had been sulking and hopped into Flint's lap. After a few glares in Mike's direction, the cat finally settled down to a machine-gun purr. "You two have a nice evening?" Flint said conversationally.
"It's been lovely up until now." Rani urged her guest to a chair. Mike sat down somewhat reluctantly and accepted the cup and saucer she handed him.
"We went to the resort at the far end of the lake," Mike said politely. "Good steaks."
Rani's smile was determined. "Good band, too."
"The place was probably full of deer hunters," Flint observed, oblivious to the chill in her voice.
"Not really," Rani said. Mostly resort guests. The only signs of the hunters were the rifle shots we heard between here and the resort."
Mike nodded, frowning. "It was just at dusk. Some hunter must have been making one last try for a deer before nightfall. He was too near the road if you ask me. We could hear the shots quite clearly."
"Crazy hunters. No common sense," Rani complained. "They have no business shooting that close to civilization."
"Every hunting season someone gets hurt," Mike said. "Usually another hunter. It's a dangerous sport."
Rani grimaced. "Frankly, my sympathy is with the deer."
Flint looked at Mike. "You come up here to Reed Lake regularly?''
"I usually head for the mountains at this time of the year," Mike acknowledged politely. "Spent last winter in Tahoe and the winter before that in Lake County. I like mountains in winter."
Rani smiled, doing her best to shut Flint out of the conversation. "Are mountains in winter good for the creative juices?"
"I do some of my best work during winter."
Flint smiled blandly again. "Being an artist must be a lot like being a handyman. Not too stable a profession."
"Oh, I work on a regular basis," Mike assured him. "I show relatively often and have a fairly steady following. I haven't been a starving artist for a very long time."
"Where do you show?" Flint asked.
"Down in the Bay area and Carmel mostly. Why? Are you interested in art?"
"In a way. I'm in the process of changing
Jean-Marie Blas de Robles