Janet by Peggy Webb Page A

world, she could
whistle, and the asprin would jump out of the bottle.
    o0o
    Dan felt lower than a worm. He stood,
watching Janet walk out the door. When it closed behind her, he
walked back to the table and patted the big dog’s head.
    “My God, Harvey. I can’t believe I said that.
Did you see the look on her face?” He cuddled the dog some more,
taking comfort from the thumping tail and the soft whines. “Heck, I
used to think I knew more about making women happy than any man in
the world. Some expert I turned out to be.”
    Dan stared into space for a while and tried
to think what to do.
    He gave Harvey’s head an absentminded pat.
“Do you mind if I cut this visit short, old boy? I have some tall
apologizing to do.”
    He left Harvey with Billie Jean Haskins and
drove across town. The lights were on inside Janet’s apartment. He
sat in his pickup for a while, drumming his fingers on the steering
wheel and whistling a tuneless song. Now that he was here, what in
the world was he going to say? He felt like a fool. Was he really
the same man who had only recently bragged about the joys of making
up?
    Still whistling nervously between his teeth,
he got out of his truck and punched the dinky little buzzer, and
then in a fever of impatience he lifted his hand and banged loudly
on the door.
    It swung open, and there was Janet, wearing a
soft-looking pink robe belted at the waist and a towel wrapped
around her hair. Backlit by the glow of her lamps, she looked like
something he’d imagined in one of his more erotic dreams.
    “Won’t you come in?”
    She was cool and formal, like a schoolteacher
talking to an unruly child.
    He stepped inside and was immediately struck
by the differences between his home and hers. Her apartment was
immaculate. Most of the furniture looked second hand but if he
didn’t miss his guess, that was a Ming vase.
    “I suppose you came to tell me about Harvey,”
she said. “Won’t you sit down?”
    Everything in this small apartment looked
about the size of his niece’s doll house. He felt big and
awkward.
    “Well, actually, no.” He cleared his throat
and looked around for a chair that might be big enough to support
his weight.
    Janet was amused by his obvious discomfort.
Amused and touched. Standing there dripping on her cheap rug, his
wet curly hair plastered to his head, his face a study in wicked
innocence, Dan Albany tugged at her heartstrings. She decided to
put him out of his misery.
    “Why don’t you take that big chair by the
fireplace? Don’t worry; it’s sturdy enough to hold an
elephant.”
    “I’m hardly an elephant.” Laughing, he eased
himself into the chair. “But I am a jackass.”
    “Always?” She smiled as she sat on the sofa
and tucked her legs under her.
    “Not always. Only when I’m around you.”
    “I see.”
    “Do you?”
    Her smile got bigger. “I believe I’m hearing
an apology.”
    “You are.” He stretched his long legs toward
the cold fireplace, made a careful tent of his fingers and propped
them under his chin. He gazed at her thoughtfully for a while. It
was a comfortable silence. Neither of them felt the need to fill it
with words.
    Finally Dan spoke. “I’m not good at this, you
know.”
    “That makes it all the more charming.”
    “Charming?”
    “Sometimes.”
    He smiled at her. “I’d be willing to make a
jackass of myself again to hear you tell me that.”
    “Surely other women have called you
charming.”
    “No one who counts.”
    There was a stillness in the room, a
breathless waiting, as if some long-anticipated event were about to
take place.
    Janet felt a pleasant heat seep into her
bones. She leaned her head against the back of the sofa, never
taking her eyes off Dan’s.
    “I truly am sorry, Janet.” His voice was as
soft and rich as a blues song, and just as mesmerizing. She let the
melody wash over her. “I had no right to judge you or your
profession. Each person feels pain and joy and...