Free Forsaking All Others by Lavyrle Spencer

night. Again she was all brisk self-assurance, a studious expression on her face as she did what she loved doing best. She had removed the army parka a while ago and now wore a white sweatshirt and blue jeans. As she bent forward, her hair fell across her cheek, but she seemed totally unaware of it, of anything but her work.
    Suddenly she stood up, biting her upper lip while deep in thought. She glanced at the darkened strobesstanding around the edges of the room, thought for a moment longer, abruptly smiled, clapped her hands, and declared, “Yup! It’ll work just fine.”
    “Good,” he returned, then sighed. He looked at his watch and reminded her, “Do you know what time it is? It’s eight-thirty, and I haven’t had any supper. Neither have you.” He heaved himself to his feet, gestured with a sideward quirk of the head as he passed her, and led the way to the front door. “Come on, let me buy you a hamburger.”
    Walking toward their jackets piled on her desk, she scolded, “Oh no, not after all the help you’ve given me. It’s me who’ll do the buying.”
    He automatically picked up her parka first and held it, waiting for her arms to slip in. “I asked first.”
    “I buy or I’m not going,” she declared stubbornly. “It’s the least I can do.”
    “Are you always this obstinate?”
    “Nope. Only when guys come along and save my discs.”
    “All right, you win.” He shook the jacket slightly. “Come on, get in, I’m starved.”
    At last she complied, buttoning up, retrieving her bobcap, and pulling it clownishly low over her forehead again while he slid his arms into his jacket and snapped it up.
    “My car or yours?” he asked as they walked toward the elevator.
    “How ’bout both of ours, then we can just hit home after we eat.”
    “Right.”
    On the first floor he turned toward the front of the building, she toward the rear, having agreed upon where to meet. But when Allison got to her van she realized, chagrined, that she was almost flat out of cash. She counted the money in her billfold and her loose change. She had a single one-dollar bill and hardly enough change to make up the price of two hamburgers, much less drinks to go with them.
    God, how embarrassing, she thought, and frantically started the van, thinking of her checkbook at home on the kitchen cabinet. The city streets were almost deserted. She had no idea what Rick’s car looked like, so she had no recourse but to drive to the appointed restaurant and wait in the parking lot for him to arrive.
    When she saw his face behind the window of a Ford sedan, she jumped from the van, left it idling, and was waiting when he came to a stop. She tapped on the window, and he rolled it down. She plunged her hands into her jacket pockets and looked up sheepishly.
    “I feel like a real dope, but I haven’t got enough money with me after all, so would you settle for an omelette at my place?”
    “Sounds good.”
    “It’s not far. I live on Lake of the Isles.”
    “I’ll follow you.”
    She shivered, ran back to her van, and twenty minutes later the headlights of his car followed hers into the driveway between the high snowbanks.
    When she emerged from the depths of the dark garage, he was waiting to lower the door for her, and once again Allison was struck by his unfailing good manners. He performed each courtesy with a naturalness that most men seemed to have long forgotten in this day of women’s independence. Allison felt special when he treated her in this gentlemanly way. Inwardly she chuckled as she led the way up the stairway to her apartment, realizing she was dressed more like a combat soldier than a lady. Yet he still afforded her chivalry at every opportunity. And he did it in so offhand a manner as to make her feel foolish for giving it a second thought.
    They stamped the snow off their boots and walked into her gaily decorated apartment. He was already pulling off his boots before she could turn around to protest,