Shattered

housekeeper.”
        “I don't want to marry a housekeeper,” he said. “Hell, I can hire housekeepers by the dozen!
        “And I'm not a really terrific cook.”
        “Why did God make restaurants?” he asked.
        “And,” she had said, scowling at the thought of her own sloppiness and slothfulness, “I usually let the laundry pile up until I either have to do the wash or buy all new clothes.”
        “Courtney, why do you think God invented Chinese for, if not to do laundry? Huh?”
        Remembering that exchange, how they had broken into fits of laughter and giggled helplessly, holding each other and rocking on the floor like silly children, she smiled and went over to their new bed and sat down on it, testing the springs.
        She actually had tested them before. She had stripped off all her clothes and jumped up and down in the center of the mattress, just as she had told Alex on the telephone. It had seemed a splendid idea at the time. But the exercise and the cool air on her bare skin had given her ideas and an appetite for loving. She could hardly get to sleep that night for wanting him. She kept thinking of Alex, of what it was like with him, kept thinking how perfect they were together and how bedtime with him was unlike anything she had ever known with anyone else.
        They were good together in many ways, not just in bed. They liked the same books, the same movies, and usually the same people. If it was true that opposites attract, then duplicates attract even more.
        “Do you think we'll ever get bored with each other?” she had asked him toward the end of the first week of their honeymoon.
        “Bored?” he had asked, faking an enormous yawn.
        “Seriously.”
        “We won't be bored for a minute,” he said.
        “But we're so similar, so-”
        “Only three kinds of people bore me,” he had said. “First: someone who can only talk about himself. And you're not an egomaniac.”
        “Second?”
        “Someone who can't talk about anything . That kind bores me to tears. But you are an intelligent, active, exciting woman who always has something going. You'll never be without something to say.”
        “Third?
        “The most boring person of all is the one who doesn't listen when I talk about myself,” Alex said, half serious but trying to get a laugh out of her as well.
        “I always listen,” she said. “I like to hear you talk about yourself. You are a fascinating subject.”
        Now, sitting on the bed which they would share tonight, she realized that listening to each other was the main thing that made their relationship work so well. She wanted to know him, and he wanted to fully understand her. He wanted to know what she was thinking and doing, and she wanted to be a part of all that concerned him. When you got right down to it, maybe they were not duplicates at all. Maybe, because they listened so well, they came to understand and appreciate each other's tastes and, soon, to share them. They did not duplicate each other so much as they helped each other expand and grow.
        The future seemed so promising, and she was so happy that she hugged herself, an unconscious expression of satisfaction and delight which she had unknowingly passed on to Colin.
        Downstairs, the doorbell rang.
        She looked at the bedside clock: ten minutes past two.
        Could they be here an hour early? Could he have overestimated the length of the drive by that much?
        She got off the bed and hurried into the hall, took the stairs two at a time. She was excited at the prospect of seeing them and asking lots of questions about the trip, but… At the same time she was a bit angry. Had he just mistaken the length of time they would need to drive in from Reno? Or had he broken all the speed limits getting here? If he did… How dare he risk their future only to shave an hour off a five-day trip? By the time she reached the front door, she was almost as angry as she was pleased to know they were finally home.
        She pulled off the chain and opened the door.
        “Hello, Courtney,” he said, reaching out to gently touch her face.
        “George? What are you doing here?”
        

    Twenty-two
        
        Before she could turn and run, before she could even grasp that there was something sinister about his unexpected appearance, he took her arm in a viselike grip and walked her over to the