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shortened my half by a couple of bites.
    She or a maid had made up the bed, and she was sitting in the lone chair, reading. She had showered and changed her bandage, a less dramatic single wrap of gauze. We went outdoors to a picnic table to attack the sub.
    She rode the length of the motel parking lot and decided that discretion was the better part of valor, though I think being a mathematician, she might express that differently. “D >> V”?
    We drove back to my place because I had tools and a workstand, and we drank wine while I cleaned and adjusted her bike. I even tuned the spokes on her rear wheel, ping-ping-ping, a process she’d never seen, which delighted her.
    She picked up a family portrait that was sitting on top of my nailed-together bookcase. “Hear from your dad recently?”
    â€œStill boning what’s-her-name in Chicago, I guess. I did get an e-mail day before yesterday that went to a couple hundred of his closest friends. He’s opening in Chicago next week. Probably go up.” Dad was a sometime actor, though most of his money came from teaching drama in adult ed, a sure road to big bucks.
    â€œThat would be a good gesture,” she said carefully. “It wouldn’t bother you if what’s-her-name was there?”
    â€œNo, no. She’s all right. I guess collecting fossils is a legitimate hobby.”
    She studied the picture. “I don’t know. I’d say he looks pretty good. He looks like you.”
    â€œNot anymore. He has a bushy white beard now, and horn-rim glasses. Not as much hair. Closer to Lear than Hamlet.”
    â€œHamlet’s overrated. Who wants a worrywart?
    â€œCareful, there. I played Hamlet in high school.”
    â€œNo, really? I’ve known you all this time and I didn’t know that?”
    â€œWasn’t a big deal. I’d already decided not to follow in Dad’s footsteps.”
    â€œTrotting in front of the footlights. Was he disappointed?”
    â€œFunny, no; not at all. He was all for me getting a doctorate and teaching. It was Mom who wanted me to act.”
    She laughed. “While your dad was cheating on her with actresses?”
    â€œFunny business.” I shrugged. “She might’ve known back then; maybe not. It didn’t all come out until the divorce.” Five years ago.
    â€œDid your dad ever say . . . did you know?”
    â€œOh, hell, yes. Not in so many words, just a wink or a raised eyebrow now and then. And when he was happy he really showed it. By the time I was sixteen I could tell that his being happy didn’t have much to do with what was going on at home. Then Mother caught them together, I think by accident.”
    â€œâ€˜There are no accidents.’ Who said that?”
    â€œSchiller? Maybe the captain of the
Titanic
.”
    â€œWas it what’s-her-name?”
    â€œNo, not even an actress. She was a tech person, a lighting engineer. Not even pretty—that annoyed the hell out of Mother.”
    She traced her finger over the glass of the picture. “Your mother’s more than pretty. Glamorous.”
    â€œYeah, I guess. Little life lesson there.”
    â€œI’m glad you’re not attracted to beautiful women.”
    Nothing safe to say to that. I touched her nose, then kissed her gently.
    She giggled while we were kissing. “Sorry! I can be so awful!”
    â€œNaw. You just need an editor sometimes.”
    She stood up and pulled her T-shirt off in one cross-arm jerk, and then stepped out of her shorts. “So come edit me. If you’re done with the bicycle.”
    I wasn’t, quite. But it could wait.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Relaxing after a big meal, Hunter sometimes let his mind wander back to other times and places.
    His home planet, Vantor, was beautiful but not pleasant, a hard place to grow up—if you lived long enough to grow. Of his twelve littermates, all male, only one other lived to become