Hidden Summit

problem, but while we’re having fun together, there will be only one man’s shoes under my bed and I expect to be the only pair of high heels—”
    He held up his hand. “It goes without saying.”
    “I assumed so. Now, are we squared away on the expectations? Because I’ll miss you if you go, but you shouldn’t worry you’re going to let me down.”
    He took in her bright eyes, her confident smile, the flush of happiness which included him but wasn’t only about him. She was remarkable. “I’m not going to let you down,” he said. And he wasn’t sure how he’d manage that, but it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.
    “Of course, there is one little issue that’s getting in the way of my striking out with complete independence....”
    “Oh?” he asked.
    “I don’t want to mention it if it’s going to make you all clingy....”
    “Throw it on out there, Les,” he said.
    “I’m having trouble with the garbage disposal....”
    He smiled broadly. “It will be my pleasure to have a look at your garbage disposal. Don’t get any ideas, though.”
    “Part of learning real independence is knowing who to ask,” she informed him.
    “Then, if you’ve had just about enough shrimp curry, why don’t you ask me back to bed.”
    Leslie had always been close to her parents, both of them, and talked to one or both of them at least every couple of days. But they had been married for ten years before she’d come along and to say they were tight as a couple was the understatement of the century; they made good role models for a successful marriage. In fact, it would occasionally occur to her to worry what would happen if one of them passed. Surely they would fit into that classic model of the spouse who followed his or her partner to the other side rather quickly.
    When Leslie married Greg she had wanted that kind of relationship. She’d always known she didn’t have it, but until it was over she hadn’t realized how far from that ideal they’d been. “In fact,” she had said to her mother during a recent phone conversation, “it’s only since I came here that I’ve really begun to see how much was missing from our marriage. Greg had the kind of marriage he needed and I helped him achieve it by going along with everything he said he needed. Isn’t that what a good wife tries to do? No wonder his defection was so hard on me. I couldn’t figure out what more I could’ve done for him!”
    “Oh, Les, it sounds like you’re finally getting ready to really let go of him,” Candace Petruso said.
    “Not just getting ready—I have!” She told her mother about Greg’s surprise visit and her fire-extinguisher attack on him, which sent Candace into a fit of laughter. “And,” Leslie confided, “I’m kind of seeing someone.”
    “And who might that be?”
    “Oh, one of the carpenters who works for Paul. Very nice man, very handsome. He’s helped me with a few things around the house—helped me with some landscaping and fixed my garbage disposal. We sometimes grab a movie or go to a restaurant or just hang out together. I’ve cooked for him a few times and recently he surprised me with a small backyard grill so he can cook for me. You’d like him.”
    “I can’t wait to meet him,” her mother said.
    Leslie’s conversations with her parents were usually dominated by all that sixtysomething Candace and Robert were doing to stay busy, which had saved Leslie from revealing too much about Conner or her deep fondness for him. Her parents were so busy that sometimes they joked they had to take a vacation to get a rest from retirement. The latest thing they’d taken up was learning Italian in preparation for a Mediterranean cruise in a few months. Some of their friends would also be going, and Leslie’s parents were in a fever of excitement.
    Now, as Leslie mentioned Conner to her parents, she tried to cover the subject quickly. She couldn’t help sharing news, but wanted to keep him to herself for now. Her connection with Conner seemed strangely wrong yet miraculously right. Wrong because she shouldn’t have that kind of rapport with someone she’d barely met when she couldn’t find it with a spouse of eight years. And right because it just was.
    Leslie thought the best of both worlds suited her magnificently—an independent life and a man who was free to spend two or three nights a week with her. Sometimes she’d sit on the back porch with Conner and just admire