Lindy’s long, white-blond hair wrapped around her by the wind, her expression cocky, sassy. Maggie was squinting from the sun, which pierced through the dark glasses she wore. The summer of 1974. The year before she’d met J.D.—and, of course, the year before Lindy had met Rick and the craziness had started. Maggie had always harbored a secret guilt, that had she not introduced them, if they’d never met, maybe Lindy’s life would have taken a different turn. And yet she knew with absolute certainty that disaster would have found Lindy one way or another. The woman was marked for tragedy just as surely as the beginning of every new day was marked by the dawn. And who could have foreseen it, back then when they were young and still awaiting something that would define their lives? Maggie was on cloud nine, caught up in a romance that had seemed to come from nowhere and to blossom overnight. Lindy had been there with her practi cally from the start of it…
“ M aggie, you have to be the most difficult person in the world to catch up with. I’ve been calling you for days.” Lindy’s voice on the phone was half teasing, half concerned. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
“No, of course not, ” Maggie reassured her, absent- mindedly shuffling through a file that lay open on the top of her desk. “And it hasn’t been ‘days.’ I spoke to you on Sunday morning.”
“And have been unreachable since. I called your apartment last night about four times. The last time the phone seemed to be picked up and hung up at about the same time. It worried me.”
“No need to worry.” Maggie yawned, then laughed. “Excuse me.”
“Oh, I see,” laughed Lindy knowingly, “sounds like a big night. Dare I be so presumptuous to ask if there was some action at the Callahan hacienda last night?”
“No, you may not.” Maggie knew that Elena, whose desk was immediately behind Maggie’s and who had seen her leave the bar the night before with J.D., was hanging on every word.
“Hmmmm, let’s see, I know it wasn’t Jake—I saw him this afternoon on Pine Street and he asked me if I’d spoken to you over the past few days. He’s been trying to call you, too. Let me think, who’s a likely candidate … Mitch? Not Mitch, Maggie … ”
“What’s wrong with Mitch?”
“Nothing, except he’s just so serious all the time. Dull and dry and no sense of humor. He’s not a fun person, Maggie.” Lindy dismissed him.
“Well, actually, I did have a date with him last night, but it slipped my mind,” Maggie admitted.
“Then who was it?”
“Someone I met over the weekend. On Sunday. I’ ll tell you about it later… ”
“Wait a minute. Jake told me he was with you on Sunday, j ogging down on the drive … said you had some sort of a ccident … Oh, your foot. How’s your foot?”
“It’s fine. A little weak and sore, but okay.”
“… and that he found you on the ground and carried you tack to the car …” Maggie could tell Lindy was replaying Jak e’s conversation in her mind. “ … and took you home … When did you have time to meet someone on Sunday?”
“Lindy, give it a rest. I can’t really talk right now.” Maggie dro pped her pencil on the desk.
Elena was rummaging in a drawer of files immediately to h er left. Maggie’s silence over her date the night before and he way she had tucked away the card from the florist’s d elivery of another huge bunch of flowers that morning—a d reamy look on her face—was driving everyone in the office c razy.
“I haven’t given up. I’l l get it out of you one way or an other,” Lindy assured her. “Before I forget, can you get m e a ticket for the concert tonight? I know you won’t want t o go, but I’m dying to see this group. Monkshood. A bunch o f the girls from my office went down last night, and all they coul d talk about all day was this incredible band and this unbelievably hunky guitar player. A nd can I have your p
“ M aggie, you have to be the most difficult person in the world to catch up with. I’ve been calling you for days.” Lindy’s voice on the phone was half teasing, half concerned. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”
“No, of course not, ” Maggie reassured her, absent- mindedly shuffling through a file that lay open on the top of her desk. “And it hasn’t been ‘days.’ I spoke to you on Sunday morning.”
“And have been unreachable since. I called your apartment last night about four times. The last time the phone seemed to be picked up and hung up at about the same time. It worried me.”
“No need to worry.” Maggie yawned, then laughed. “Excuse me.”
“Oh, I see,” laughed Lindy knowingly, “sounds like a big night. Dare I be so presumptuous to ask if there was some action at the Callahan hacienda last night?”
“No, you may not.” Maggie knew that Elena, whose desk was immediately behind Maggie’s and who had seen her leave the bar the night before with J.D., was hanging on every word.
“Hmmmm, let’s see, I know it wasn’t Jake—I saw him this afternoon on Pine Street and he asked me if I’d spoken to you over the past few days. He’s been trying to call you, too. Let me think, who’s a likely candidate … Mitch? Not Mitch, Maggie … ”
“What’s wrong with Mitch?”
“Nothing, except he’s just so serious all the time. Dull and dry and no sense of humor. He’s not a fun person, Maggie.” Lindy dismissed him.
“Well, actually, I did have a date with him last night, but it slipped my mind,” Maggie admitted.
“Then who was it?”
“Someone I met over the weekend. On Sunday. I’ ll tell you about it later… ”
“Wait a minute. Jake told me he was with you on Sunday, j ogging down on the drive … said you had some sort of a ccident … Oh, your foot. How’s your foot?”
“It’s fine. A little weak and sore, but okay.”
“… and that he found you on the ground and carried you tack to the car …” Maggie could tell Lindy was replaying Jak e’s conversation in her mind. “ … and took you home … When did you have time to meet someone on Sunday?”
“Lindy, give it a rest. I can’t really talk right now.” Maggie dro pped her pencil on the desk.
Elena was rummaging in a drawer of files immediately to h er left. Maggie’s silence over her date the night before and he way she had tucked away the card from the florist’s d elivery of another huge bunch of flowers that morning—a d reamy look on her face—was driving everyone in the office c razy.
“I haven’t given up. I’l l get it out of you one way or an other,” Lindy assured her. “Before I forget, can you get m e a ticket for the concert tonight? I know you won’t want t o go, but I’m dying to see this group. Monkshood. A bunch o f the girls from my office went down last night, and all they coul d talk about all day was this incredible band and this unbelievably hunky guitar player. A nd can I have your p
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