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the low rumble and
rhythmic vibration of the motorcycle. (Better than having a
vibrating cell phone in your pocket!) Add to that the musty scent
of Ted’s cologne, the muscular warmth of his back, and the feeling
of oneness as we leaned into the curves, and I was close to heaven.
But, the icing on the cake was the feeling of elation and freedom I
got from the wind in my face—the same sensation I felt as a kid,
when I coasted my bike down the long, winding hill in front of my
parent’s house. I snuggled closer to Ted as we took the swooping
curve where A1A paralleled the beach. Maybe Ruthie was right; I
should relax a little.
    The food was waiting when we returned to the
condo. No time was wasted since our dinners were cooling fast and
re-warming steak seldom worked. As we caught our breath before
tackling dessert, Ted asked, “What are your plans for the week? I
assume you’ll hit some of the bike events.”
    “Do you think it’s safe for the three of us
to attend without a male escort?” Ruthie asked nervously.
    “Some of the places in Daytona can get a
little rough, but you’ll be fine if you stick to the beaten
path.”
    “Bobby Barnes suggested we go to the Pub,” I
said.
    Ted nodded. “The Pub, J.B.’s, the
restaurants on Flagler, even Main Street in Daytona—you’ll be fine
at any of them. In fact, I’ll probably be doing traffic duty at the
Pub most of the week.”
    The Pub it is, I thought. I turned to
Ruthie. “Bike Week is world famous. We really should go to a few
events.”
    Ruthie didn’t look particularly excited, but
didn’t get a chance to argue. Penny Sue started the tape for The
Rocky Horror Picture Show and began passing around the
desserts. The rest of the evening was a blur of food and frivolity,
which did everyone, especially Penny Sue, a world of good.

    * * *

Chapter 4

    I awoke to the smell of coffee which
summoned a memory so old, I’d never have guessed it was there. I
thought of Zack. When we were first married, before the kids, Zack
would make the morning coffee. An ambitious young lawyer in Parker,
Hanson, and Swindal, one of the most prestigious law firms in
Atlanta, he got up at five so he could beat his colleagues to work.
In those days there was intense competition between the associates,
each vying to rack up the most billable hours to insure they’d
receive a coveted partnership. Everyone tried to be the first to
arrive and the last to leave, which meant no one left while a
single partner was on the floor, after which, they still played a
silly cat and mouse game to see who could outlast whom. Thankfully,
by the third year, Zack and his close colleagues came to an
unspoken agreement that they’d all leave together. A darn good
thing, otherwise I’d never have seen my husband, and we certainly
wouldn’t have had children.
    I rolled onto my back and stared at the
ceiling. All of that happened twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five
years, a quarter of a century. I suddenly felt very old.
    Old. Hey, today was Ruthie’s birthday.
Finally, we were all the same age.
    I snatched a cotton robe from the closet and
followed the scent of Colombian roast. Ruthie sat at the kitchen
counter reading the newspaper. The television, tuned to CNN, played
in the background. An insatiable news junkie, Ruthie was never out
of touch with world events. Which struck me as ironic, considering
her metaphysical leanings. As far as I could tell, most of the
woo-woo people avoided the media claiming, at best, it fostered
fear and wanton materialism. At worst, it was nothing but a
mouthpiece for a vast right wing—or left, depending on one’s
political philosophy—conspiracy.
    I snuck up behind Ruthie and started to sing
softly. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you—”
    A thunderous warble came from the hall.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR RUTHIE,” Penny Sue skipped into the great
room, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU-U-U. And man-n-ny mo-ore.” She was
wearing the red silk robe with a dragon