The Howling III by Gary Brandner Page B

address with no trouble. It was a yellow clapboard bungalow with white shutters, set well back from the quiet street. The lawn was neatly mowed. A row of flowers before the house looked like somebody cared about them. As promised, Holly had left the porch light on.
    She met him at the door wearing a colourful silk blouse with a soft, dark skirt that followed the smooth curve of her hips. Gavin realized it was the first time he had seen her out of the more severe lady-doctor outfits she wore while working. He decided she looked pretty damn good, and told her so.
    “Thank you,” she said. “I like your jacket.”
    He held up the bottle of wine for her inspection. “Is this okay?”
    “Perfect. If you want to pull the cork we’ll let it breathe for a while before dinner.”
    They entered through a small living room that she had furnished in shades of brown, gold, and rust. In a dining alcove a table was covered with a white linen spread and set for two, complete with candles and long-stemmed wine glasses.
    He followed her into a sparkling kitchen and managed the corkscrew while Holly bustled about straightening things that did not need straightening.
    “I don’t exactly know what that “letting it breathe” business is all about,” she said, “but it seems to be part of the ritual.”
    “Like rolling the cork between your fingers and sniffing at it,” he added.
    “And what’s the difference between the aroma and the bouquet?”
    “I didn’t know there was one.”
    At the same time they stopped and looked at each other.
    “We’re babbling, aren’t we,” she said.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “We’re both adults, we’ve been in the company of the opposite sex before, so there’s no excuse for mindless social chatter, is there?”
    “None at all.”
    “Whew. With that out of the way, would you like a drink before I throw on the steaks?”
    “I’d love one.”
    “I have vodka, Scotch, bourbon and gin. I can make a pretty good martini.”
    “Scotch will be fine.”
    “Do you like anything in it?”
    “Ice.”
    She made his drink and a vodka and tonic for herself. They carried them into the living room and sat on the sofa with the drinks before them on a hatch-cover coffee table. Some easy cocktail jazz was playing on the stereo unit. Gavin could not tell if it was a record or the radio.
    “Do you ever hear from your wife?” she asked suddenly.
    For a moment he was startled into silence, then he laughed. “Ex-wife,” he amended. “You sure know how to break the ice.”
    “If we’re going to start dating, we ought to know about each other, don’t you think?”
    “Are we going to start dating?”
    “I think we have, don’t you?”
    “Apparently.”
    He sipped at the Scotch. It was good, heavy stuff; not one of the lightweights with pretty labels and no flavour. “No, I never hear from Elise. Ours was not one of those friendly divorces you hear about. Now and then I hear about her from mutual friends. They mean well, but I’d just as soon they wouldn’t bother.”
    “You sound bitter.”
    He considered for a moment. “If I do, that’s something I’ve got to fix. Bitter people are no fun to have around, and I certainly don’t want to be one. They pollute the atmosphere like sour meat. I don’t hate Elise. I am not down on humanity, or women, or even the institution of marriage. I got gouged in the divorce, but I guess that was mostly to soothe my wife’s pride. Elise never lost anything in her life, and if I was going to get away, she was going to be sure I didn’t take much with me.”
    “I saw her several times when you both lived in Darnay. She’s a beautiful woman.”
    “There’s no denying that,” he said. “She’s also intelligent, witty, and ambitious. Who invited her tonight, anyway?”
    Holly coloured, then smiled at him. “I have been asking a lot of questions, haven’t I? It’s only fair that you have a turn. Is there anything you want to know about me?”
    “Plenty, but