Free Winter Affair by Doreen Owens Malek

back.
    “You’re right,” he said. “It’s a long time since I had a drink with a lady, or laughed. You’re helping me back into the world, Leda.”
    “Thank you. I hope so.”
    “Your father once told me how he picked your name. He always used to talk about you, when you were away at school. I think he wanted you home.”
    “Monica insisted on boarding school. She wanted me to be refined.”
    “You are. But your father wasn’t convinced that he’d done the right thing. There’s some poem about swans, he said you were named after the girl in it. He used to recite it, and show all of us your pictures.”
    Leda winced. “Not those pictures I sent from school. They were awful.”
    “No, they weren’t. I liked to see them.” He grinned. “I remember one with you in pajamas. You had your arm around another girl, a redhead.”
    Leda groaned. “I can’t believe he was showing that to people. That was taken at a slumber party. We both hadn’t slept all night and we looked it.”
    “I thought it was cute.” His expression became serious. “I knew who you were right away when I saw you in the cemetery. I think I would have known you even if I hadn’t seen the photos. You resemble your father.”
    Leda nodded slowly. “Yes. That’s what everybody says.”
    The grandfather clock in the entry hall of the inn chimed eleven. Reardon looked surprised, as if he had lost track of the time.
    “I’d better take you back to your car,” he said abruptly. “I have the midnight to eight shift at the hangar.”
    Leda looked puzzled. “Then why were you working when I was there last week?”
    “Oh, I’m switching shifts, filling in whenever they need me.” He stood and walked around to her chair, pulling it out for her.
    “That’s a difficult schedule to keep,” Leda commented, going with him to the hall.
    “I was lucky to get the job at all, I can’t be choosy about the hours.” He paid the bar tab and walked back to the table to leave a tip. Leda stood by while he got their coats and helped her into hers. She thought his hands rested on her shoulders a moment longer than was necessary, but she wasn’t sure.
    “Where are you parked?” he asked, hunching his shoulders against the cold, which clutched at them the second they stepped out the door. Leda shivered, and he put his arm around her as he guided her across the street.
    “In the lot behind the theater. What about you?”
    “I came late, had to park in the street, about a half mile down the road,” he answered.
    “Then go. I don’t want you to be late. I can get back to my car by myself.”
    He looked at her. “Would you rather I left?” he said. He had become tense again, withdrawn.
    “Why do you say that?” she asked, confused by his response to her innocent statement.
    He paused. “Are you afraid of me?” he said, putting his hands in his pockets and regarding her soberly.
    “No, of course not. I just went to the inn with you, didn’t I?”
    “That’s not the same thing as a dark, empty parking lot. There were a lot of people there, and you would feel safe.”
    “I feel safe right now,” she replied softly. “I feel safe with you.”  
    “You’re sure?” he insisted.
    “I’m sure. Now let’s go, or you will be late for work.”
    They hurried through the freezing air to the almost- deserted lot, and Reardon waited while Leda unlocked the door of her car. She got in and started it, then left it running to warm up while she got out and stood next to him in the feeble light from the arc lamps overhead.
    “Thank you for the drink,” she said. “I enjoyed it.”
    “Did you?” he asked, as if he needed reassurance.
    “Of course. And I’m glad you came to see my show.” She laughed suddenly. “I’m especially glad you came tonight. A few days ago we had a real disaster and you’re lucky you missed it.”
    “I like to see you laugh,” he said softly, touching her cheek. “It reminds me of what my life used to be like,