Smoke in Mirrors

grocery stores in all the world, you walked into this one and chose me to honor with your tale.”
    His black brows rose. “Damn. The cautious type. I was afraid of that.”

    “It’s an old habit I’m trying to break, but it kicks in once in a while in spite of all my good intentions.”
    “Ah, yes.” He nodded with an air of grave wisdom. “I know all about old habits. You could say I’m something of an expert in the field.”
    “Really? How did that happen?”
    “I’m in the business of breaking old habits.” He drew a black-and-silver case out of his pocket, opened it and handed her one of the little white cards inside. “I’m a stress-reduction consultant. I specialize in helping people deal with the problems of modern life. That usually means getting rid of old habits. I do counseling and I sell a special nutritional formula designed to offset the metabolic effects of stress.”
    She glanced at the card. Alex’s name and a phone number were the only things printed on it.
    “Are you expensive?” she asked.
    “Very. But the real money is in the nutritional supplement. You wouldn’t believe how willing people are to take a spoonful of medicine rather than make genuine changes in their lives.”
    “Nice work if you can get it.”
    “You can say that again.” He gave her a Cheshire cat smile. “And I’ve got it. Want to go back to my place and look at my stress-reduction videos?”
    “Some other time, maybe.”
    He gave a theatrical sigh of deep regret. “All right, I get the point. You aren’t going to let me sweep you off your feet and onto my couch.”
    “You actually have a couch?”
    “Sure. Clients expect it. And it gives me a place to take a nap between appointments.”
    “I can see the logic. How long have you lived here in Wing Cove?”
    “Opened up my practice about a year ago. I can giveyou a list of references, if you like, but you probably can’t afford me.”
    “Probably not.”
    “I occasionally do some pro bono work, however.”
    “Thanks, but in my family we have this thing against taking charity.”
    Alex Rhodes had been in Wing Cove while Meredith was here, she pondered. They would have met. Alex would have made certain of it. And Meredith would have found him entertaining, to say the least. More importantly, she would have considered him a prime source of information. A stress-reduction consultant who catered to the high-end market was bound to pick up a lot of interesting tidbits about his clients’ private lives. Meredith had collected interesting tidbits that might prove profitable the way other folks collected antiques.
    “No need to give me a list of references,” she said, “and the only nutritional supplements I use are the chocolate-covered kind.”
    “Can I talk you into having a cup of coffee with me, instead? There’s a place just down the street.”
    “I’m still looking for a reason.”
    “How about because I saw you from the far end of this grocery aisle and I was captivated by the vision of you bending over to reach into that freezer?”
    “How about you try again?”
    He laughed. “All right, I’ll tell you the flat-out truth. As I mentioned earlier, this is one small town. Most of the women who are anywhere near my age are either married or clients of mine or students. I never date members of any one of those categories, so that seriously cuts down my social options in Wing Cove.”
    “I see.”
    “I’m a mature, intelligent, sensitive man, Ms. Hutton. I have needs.”

    “I’ll bet you do.”
    “What I need,” he said deliberately, “is a conversation with a sophisticated, interesting woman that does not revolve around a personal neurosis or a relationship issue that is impacting her ability to deal with stress or to have an orgasm. I need such a conversation very badly, Ms. Hutton. I do believe that I would sell my soul for such a conversation.”
    “Oh, well, in that case, let’s have coffee.”

    She ordered tea , of course. Alex got an espresso. Of course. The little cup of extra strong, extra dark coffee went with the rest of the outfit.
    They sat at a small, round table near the window. The crowd was a mix of academics, students and townsfolk. The walls were painted in warm hues of brown and ocher. The wood floor had been finished to look old and worn. A fire burned on a central, open hearth in the middle of the room.
    The fog was back. Outside the window it was so thick it was difficult to make out the shops and