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Tony came with me, and since I didn’t have my coat I stood close to him, using him for a wind break.
    The breeze smelled of hot wax and grilled salmon. Other tailgaters were still enjoying their dinners. The parking lot had filled up considerably; at least a dozen other parties were dining al fresco, and on several tables wineglasses glinted in the sunset light. A couple of groups had even set up awnings, though Mr. Ingraham had the only true tent.
    A rumble made me glance behind us at the mountains. Definitely some storm-action there, but since the usual weather track was west-to-east, I wasn’t too worried about rain.
    “Great views,” Tony said.
    “Aren’t they? It’s magical up here, especially in the twilight.”
    “Mm.”
    I turned to look at him. Sharp jaw shadowed by the fading light, dusky-dark hair and his shoulders trim in the suit coat. He looked delicious.
    “Having fun so far?”
    He gave a nod. “The food was great.”
    “High praise.”
    “Hey, I’m not good at flowery talk. You know that.”
    “True.”
    I looked back at the sunset, feeling content. Took another sip of port, then caught my breath as Tony slid an arm around my waist. I leaned against him, soaking in the warmth of his body. His head rested against mine.
    “Hm.” His voice resonated through my skull. “The evening just got more interesting.”
    A little too interesting, especially since we had an audience. I finished my port, letting the last mouthful sear itself into my senses, making me blink, then turned to face him, sliding out of his clasp.
    “We should go back.”
    He looked disappointed, but smiled and with a formal little bow offered me his arm. I took it, soaking up more of his heat. I’d be needing my coat shortly.
    Manny and Mr. Ingraham had the remains of the feast packed away and were breaking down the table. Again, my offer of help was refused.
    “If you and Tony would escort the ladies in,” he said, relieving me of my glass, “we’ll be after you in a jiffy.”
    “All right. Thank you for an exquisite dinner.”
    Mr. Ingraham bowed slightly, an upturned corner of his mouth beneath the salted mustache betraying his pleasure. I collected my coat, beaded bag, and humble tote of weather gear from the car.
    “A jiffy?” Tony whispered hotly in my ear, making me shiver. I threw him a repressive glance but ruined it by smiling.
    Tony offered an arm each to Claudia and Nat, a deferential gesture of which I approved, and the four of us headed for the opera house. We joined a short line of people already filing through the gate. I dug our tickets out of my purse and we passed through the courtyard into the theatre.
    We found our seats—very good ones, orchestra center—and I put my tote beneath mine. “Since we have a little time, I could give you a tour of the grounds,” I said to Tony.
    “Sure,” he said, then glanced at Nat who was settling into her seat.
    “You go ahead,” she said. “We’ll stay to welcome the men-folk.”
    I bent down to smooch her cheek, then stepped out into the aisle with Tony and led him down to view the orchestra pit. The stage was set with minimalist Italian-looking pillars framing the westward view: the last of the sunset glowing over the Jemez. A table that suggested an altar stood in the middle of the stage. I recalled that Tosca opened in a church.
    “See the water here?” I said, indicating the gently restless, yard-wide band that curved around the orchestra pit. “That’s in honor of the first theatre. It had a pool between the orchestra and the audience. Something about the acoustic quality of water—I’m not sure exactly what.”
    “I see why they call it a pit,” Tony said, peering at the musicians who were beginning to gather beneath the lip of the stage.
    “Let’s go look at the terrace.”
    I led him up the aisle and over to the Stravinsky Terrace, where the views to the north were darkened by clouds. A few planters held token petunias. The snack bar was