Shattered

had slipped down his nose and now rested precariously on the very tip of it, though the boy did not seem to notice. “We were followed all the way from Philadelphia! “ he told Courtney as soon as she came on the line.
        Alex grimaced.
        “A man in a Chevrolet van,” Colin said. “No. We couldn't get a look at him. He was much too smart for that.” He told her all about their imaginary FBI man. When he tired of that, he told her how he had won a dollar from Doyle. He listened to her for a moment, laughed. “I tried, but he wouldn't make any more bets.”
        Listening to the boy's half of the conversation, Doyle was momentarily jealous of the warm, intimate relationship between Courtney and Colin. They were entirely at ease with each other, and neither one needed to pretend-or disguise-his love. Then the envy passed as Doyle realized his own relationship with Courtney was much the same-and that he and the boy would soon be as close as they both were to the woman.
        “She says I'm costing you too much,” Colin said, passing the receiver to Doyle.
        He took it. “Courtney?”
        “Hi, darling.” Her voice was rich and full. She might have been beside him instead of at the other end of twenty-five hundred miles of telephone wire.
        “Are you okay?”
        “Lonely,” she said.
        “Not for long. How's the house coming?”
        “The carpets are all down.”
        “No hassles?”
        “Not until the bill arrives,” she said.
        “Painters?”
        “Been and gone.”
        “Then you just have the furniture deliveries to worry about,” he said.
        “I can't wait for our bedroom suite to get here.”
        “Every bride's greatest concern,” he said.
        “That's not what I mean, sexist. It's just that this damn sleeping bag gives me a backache.”
        He laughed.
        “And,” she said, “have you ever tried camping out in the middle of an empty, lushly carpeted twenty-by-twenty master bedroom? It's eerie.”
        “Maybe we should have all flown out,” Alex said. “Maybe a furnitureless house would be easier to endure if you had company.”
        “No,” she said. “I'm okay. I just like to gripe. How are you and Colin getting along?”
        “Famously,” he said, watching Colin as the boy pushed his glasses up on his pug nose.
        “What about this guy following you in the Automover?” she asked.
        “It's nothing.”
        “One of Colin's games?”
        “That's all, he assured her.
        “Hey, did he really take you for a dollar?”
        “He really did. He's a sneaky kid. He's a lot like you.”
        Colin laughed.
        “How's the car handling?” Courtney asked. “Is six hundred miles a day too much for you, by yourself?”
        “Not at all,” he said. “My back's probably not aching as much as yours. We'll be able to stay right on schedule.”
        “I'm glad to hear you say that. I'm a little bit of a sexist myself-and I can't wait to get you in that new bed.”
        “Likewise,” he said, smiling.
        “I've had several nights to appreciate the view from this damn bedroom window,” she said. “It's even more spectacular tonight than it was last night. You can see the city lights on the bay, all distorted and glimmering.”
        “I'm homesick for a home I've never slept in,” Doyle said. He was also lovesick, and he was made more feverish by the sound of her voice.
        “I love you,” she said.
        “Likewise.”
        Say it.”
        “I've got an audience,” Doyle said, looking at Colin. The boy was listening, rapt, as if he could hear both sides of the conversation.
        “Colin won't be embarrassed by that,” she said. “Love doesn't embarrass him at all.”
        “Okay,” he said. “I love you.”
        Colin grinned and hugged himself.
        “Call tomorrow night.”
        “As scheduled,” he promised.
        “Say goodnight to Colin for me.”
        “I will.”
        “Goodbye, darling.”
        “Goodbye, Courtney.”
        He missed her so profoundly that breaking the connection was a little bit like drawing a sharp knife across his own flesh.
        
        When George Leland pulled the rented Chevrolet van into the macadamed lot in front of the Lazy Time Motel the No Vacancy sign was on, large green neon letters. He was not disturbed by that, for he had never intended to stay there. He was not as flush as