Der Witwer (The Widower)

Dinner was a subdued affair, since Steve was in a less than stellar mood. But before he went to bed, he sought out Kevin.

"Francesca hasn't been to town for almost a week, so maybe you could drive her in tomorrow. The ranch manager supplies us with groceries, but ask her to check if we are low on any other necessities. Custer is the closest town from here, and there are a couple of stores and specialty shops, as well as restaurants there. There's a bookstore too. Maybe you could get lunch in town. Go up and see the Crazy Horse memorial. It's only a couple miles out of town."

Kevin nodded, and added, "If I don't see you in the morning — have a good flight, and I hope your deal goes through."

Steve agreed, "Yeah, if this deal goes through, it's millions of dollars for the company, and it will probably get me a Vice-Presidency. So it is a high-priority. Otherwise I would have to be dragged away from Francesca kicking and screaming."

They said their goodnights and parted.

The next morning as Steve got into the Hummer that had been sent to pick him up; he didn't notice Kevin watching him leave from the bedroom window in his suite.

Kevin was downstairs in the kitchen, when Francesca arrived. It was a strategic role reversal from the day before. Kevin had the coffee going in the coffee-maker, and was chopping green onions and mushrooms then putting them on a plate. On a similar plate was a pile of shredded sharp cheddar cheese. The strips of bacon were sitting on the counter-top ready to be placed in the pan that Kevin already had on the stove pre-heating.

Kevin grinned at Francesca, "Help yourself to some coffee. Would you care for an omelet?"

"Oh, that looks good. Yes, thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Sure. Could you make us some toast?"

Francesca was laughing lightly at the exchange, recognizing her own words from the morning before.

As she passed behind him, Kevin felt her hand gently touch his shoulder. It was if a spark had jumped from her to him. Her simple fragrance, which lingered in the air as she passed, said 'Spring' to his olfactory sense.

"So what is the plan for today?" she asked with a smile, when she and Kevin finally sat down to breakfast. She was so lovely and vivacious that it took his breathe away.

"Steve told me that you hadn't been away from the cabin for awhile. We could drive out to Custer or Hot Springs, if you'd like."

"Oh no — you're not getting off that easily. I want to get out to the BIG city — Rapid City!" she said with a gentle laugh. Kevin couldn't help smiling at her, at her obvious joie de vivre, her enthusiasm.

Rapid City wasn't really a long drive, once you got back on to the paved roads — however it still took close to forty-five minutes. There was a compensation for the time though; the sight of literally hundreds of white-tail deer, and wild turkeys. All that caused Kevin to mention how different it was from L.A.

"No kidding," exclaimed Francesca in agreement, "When I take a walk in the mountains around L.A., there are always hundreds of other hikers. Around here, you can be the only person for miles in any direction.

"Plus, you can make your own trails as you walk through the forests and fields. There aren't all of those signs telling you, 'Keep on the trails — if you set a foot off into the field, you'll cause an ecological disaster!"

Kevin had to laugh with her, because while Francesca was going a little over the top, it wasn't that far from the reality of L.A. living.

Rapid City is small compared with L.A., but it is large enough to have most of the national chain stores and restaurants represented, shopping malls, and the other amenities of modern 'city' life. Kevin and Francesca walked together around the downtown area, astonished to find life-sized bronze statues of the Presidents lining the streets.

The hours of the day rushed by for Kevin.

Lunch at a small, out of the way restaurant; Francesca's bright eyes and his, meeting across the table as they touched their wine glasses. He was charmed by the way she took his arm as they walked along the streets, browsing in the odd shop, examining books, arts and crafts by local artisans. Hearing her laughter lightened his pain, and eased his memory.

Late in the afternoon, they shared an early dinner in town before returning to the ranch. Kevin couldn't help but to gaze on his friend's fiancée with envy, and regret, and guilt at what he knew he was going to do.

Let her have her day to be happy and light-hearted before he opened her eyes as his had been opened only days before.

Kevin was subdued as he drove them back the long drive to the lodge. Francesca wasn't saying anything either, but she kept looking at Kevin as if she expected him to speak.

When they had arrived back at the ranch, Kevin ran up to his room, bringing down a folder from his luggage. He found Francesca waiting in the great room.

"Do you want a drink, Kevin?" Francesca asked quietly, "I mean a real drink?"

"What are you having?" he responded.

"I think that tonight is a Jack and Coke night. Well, Jack and diet Coke."

"I'll have the same," Kevin agreed.

Once the drinks were in hand, Francesca finally sat down on the couch across from the chair that Kevin had selected.

"OK, Kevin. Out with it. Now. I know you have something to say to me, and I've been waiting for two days for you to say it. Steven isn't around, if that's what has been holding you back," Francesca demanded, proving Kevin's suspicion that she could read his thoughts. At least to some degree.

"Francesca," he started, "This isn't easy for me, because I've really come to... appreciate you, the past few days.

"First, before I came up here I arranged for Steve to be lured back to L.A. and kept there for a couple days. Tomorrow evening, after a series of intense negotiations fail, the 'offer' for the building will be withdrawn, and he will return here. I don't expect to be here when he gets back.

"In short, yes, the purpose was to give us some privacy.

"Now I come to the meat of the matter." Kevin opened up the folder and took out the print-outs.

"Read these Francesca and then we can talk. They are print-outs from my wife's computer that I found after her funeral." He handed her the pages that had crushed his heart and changed his world. Then he walked up to the second floor, and out onto the balcony, where he sat, sipping his drink beneath the starry, chill, South Dakota sky.

"It's funny," he thought, "how many more stars you can see when you're so far from the city lights. And when you leave the distractions behind and take the time to look," he added to himself ruefully, wondering whether if he'd spent less time working, and more time looking and listening to Jessica, maybe he could have staved off her affair.

"Too late to worry about that now," he realized, vowing at the same time never to be caught in the same position again.

He heard her, rather than saw her, when she joined him. Together, sitting in the dark, each alone in their thoughts.

"It must have hurt you beyond your capacity to describe," came Francesca's voice.

There was another pause before Kevin replied.

"I hope that you can forgive me for doing this to you. I wonder if I wouldn't have been better off and happier not knowing that Steve and my wife were betraying me. And I'll confess that I want to see Steven hurting as much as I do.

"Perhaps it's unfair of me to take that choice of knowing or not knowing away from you. But I thought that it was important that you should understand the kind of man you were going to marry.

"Maybe you can deal with his betrayal. I couldn't. I still can hardly imagine that a man who calls himself a friend of mine could act in such a despicable and reprehensible way."

In the darkness beside him, Kevin heard an ironic laugh.

"He is a piece of work, isn't he?" Francesca said.

Kevin couldn't see her in the dark, but she didn't actually sound either terribly surprised, nor crushed. No tears, no weeping.

"Did he tell you much about me?" she asked.

"No, not really. Kind of superficial, really — how beautiful and intelligent you were, how well you complimented each other, that kind of thing. No deep, dark, secret insights," Kevin answered.

"Then first let me tell you a little about myself and my family," Francesca began.

"My family is not one of the 'super-rich' that you read about in the magazines, but by most people's standards, we are wealthy. Not entirely in 'money-in-hand', but in assets. My father owns a number of commercial buildings, up-scale apartment buildings, and other income producing real estate in the greater L.A area.

"I have my own business, which I started to help out my father and mother when they decided on a timetable to retire. My company manages their properties for them. In fact, that was how I met Steve originally — at the annual Christmas party that his firm holds to get clients in to socialize with their account executives.

"You have to understand something about families like mine. We grow up suspicious of people. Every time we make a friend, we wonder if this person is trying to find a way to part the family from its money. It's almost sick, in a way, but also necessary. You wouldn't believe how completely venial and two-faced people can be, and the many ways that a family's wealth is under constant attack.

"Everyone has a 'script' that is guaranteed to become the next block-buster movie; everyone has the perfect idea for a new business. A lot of the approaches are just plain old con games. My family has seen them all, and sent them packing.

"One of the consequences, though, is you become socially isolated. In High School, I didn't date. I didn't go to my Senior Prom. All because I was certain that any guy who asked me out was doing it because of my family's money.

"When I met Steve at the party, he started coming on to me before he even knew who I was. And Steve can be charming and persuasive, as you know. Better than anyone, I guess. For a woman who had never gone out much, quite honestly, Steve is impressive. Tall, good looking — he went to a good school. And he wasn't interested in me because of my money.

"Not that I was a push-over," she laughed a little, sad, laugh again.

"I was still suspicious enough that it took me a couple of months before I would even go on a date with him. Oh yeah, persistent. That's another one of his qualities.

"He began asking me to marry him every couple of weeks. And until a month ago, I put him off. I told him I just wasn't ready yet. He still didn't give up.

She paused again for a moment.

"Part of my hesitation was the result of going out with Steve while he was entertaining clients. He was his usual charming and attentive self when we were with them; his manners impeccable — he was a perfect gentleman. But afterwards, when we were back in one of our apartments, he would talk about them in ways that showed me that he was as two-faced as anyone I've ever seen.

"It seemed...sleazy to me. You know Steve, though. He convinced me that he was just trying to amuse me with funny anecdotes, and that he really got along with his clients. He claimed that they were very likely saying the said the same things about him, behind his back. Well... in fairness, that is probably true.

"Anyway, the nitty gritty is, that I was finally convinced just a month ago to become engaged. I guess I must have still had some reservations about him deep in my heart, because I wasn't totally surprised when you showed me the emails between him and your wife. I am feeling disappointed alright: disappointed with myself. I finally allowed myself to let loose, and take a chance with a guy, only to find out that he is — how did they used to say it — a cad and a bounder! Two-timing me before we even got married. What does that say about my judgment?"

"I guess maybe it's better to know before you get married, than like I did, finding out afterwards," Kevin stated philosophically.

Francesca finally asked, "I'm getting a little cold. Do you mind if we go back inside?"

Together they picked up the remnants of their drinks, and went back into the lodge, and back downstairs. This time they sat together on the couch, at opposite ends, looking at each other.

This time it was Kevin who could see that Francesca had something to say to him.

"So what's the plan, Kevin?" she asked, a little aggressively, although not in an antagonistic sort of way.

"Were you going to try to get me alone up here, expose Steve's duplicity and 'bed' me to even up the score?" she flat out asked, rather than beating around the bush.

Kevin blushed and stammered at the suggestion.

"Francesca, I would never propose such a thing — it would be, just...out of the question. I hope you don't seriously think I would be so...so...well, inconsiderate of your feelings. As angry as I am about how my wife behaved, I would not expect you to..." and Kevin just tapered off.

Francesca looked at Kevin as they sat in silence and after a time a malicious little grin appeared on her face.

"Why not?" she asked, "As it stands right now, the symmetry between your actions and Steve's is so far out of balance, only a radical solution can restore the world to its proper harmony!"

Kevin's eyes practically bulged.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his body involuntarily pushing back against the arms of the couch, as if to increase the distance between him and Francesca.

She, on the other hand, was counting.

"To do this right... do you need the clothes you're wearing? Can you leave them here in the lodge when we leave?"

"I guess I can. They're nothing special," he said, barely above a whisper, still completely flustered.

"Let's see. I'm wearing eight pieces of clothing; you have seven, so fifteen. So, follow me!" she instructed Kevin as she jumped up from the couch, her hand caressing his face as she past by him. Kevin followed docilely.

On the first step of the stairs, she took off a shoe and placed it down, on its side.

"There. Come up three steps, and you take your shoe off and leave it."

"You don't have to do this for me!" Kevin exclaimed, looking up at her standing on the stairway.

"I'm not doing this for you, Kevin. I'm doing it for me, and if it helps you get some payback, well that's fine too. Now, come up three steps, and take your shoe off and leave it."

He did. And every three steps thereafter, Francesca and Kevin, taking turns, left a piece of clothing as a descriptive trail, until they arrived at the door of the master bedroom, naked as the day they were born. Kevin, seeing Francesca looking like Botticelli's Venus arising from the foaming sea, found himself responding in a most embarrassing and predictable manner.

Francesca's only response, when she noticed his condition, was to mummer an approving sound, and with a slight smile on her face, she took his hand and led him to the bed.

Two hours later found Kevin laying on his back thinking, staring at the ceiling. Francesca's arm was across his chest, her leg entangled with his.

This was not an outcome that he had anticipated. He was adrift emotionally. He might be scarred for life. It's possible. He smiled in the low light.

"Well," came Francesca's voice speaking gently into his ear, while simultaneously trying to kiss it, "I will guarantee you that it wasn't because of sex that your wife was wandering. Kevin, that was wonderful. Steve is not even in the same class as you as a lover." She frowned in the dark.

"Maybe that's the real problem — with you, it is truly 'making love'. With Steve, it's having sex. I knew every moment that you really cared about me as a person, and you were worried that I was receiving pleasure, not just providing it. And I feel so entirely safe with you. God only knows, I've but known you for a couple of days, and in a lot of ways I feel more comfortable with you than I ever have with Steve.

"Maybe this getting even with Steve thing is going to be better than I anticipated," she said, the last phrase in a thoughtful tone of voice. Kevin was wondering what the hell she meant by that, but not for long, as they drifted off to sleep in a lover's embrace.

Early the following morning found Kevin and Francesca packed and ready to leave the lodge for the last time.

They had left the trail of clothes leading to the master bedroom in place. The room itself was closed up, to help retain the intense sexual atmosphere of the night before. And there, in the middle of the bed, atop the location of the wet spot, lay a set of the print-outs from Jessica's computer. Lastly and emphatically, resting on the printouts was an engagement ring.

They had made breakfast, but didn't bother to clean up. They came to a consensus: let Steve wash the dishes.

In the car, they looked at each other. Kevin voiced the question.

"So? Rapid City or Denver? We have all day. Steve won't get back until this evening at the earliest."

"Denver, then. We can drop the car off there and grab a direct Southwest flight back to Burbank, where my car is parked," Francesca suggested. Kevin nodded and started forward. Francesca gently took his arm and leaned her head over on his shoulder for a short hug. She looked a great deal like a woman in love.

By the time they were back in L.A., Kevin added 'efficient' to the list of Francesca's many attractive attributes.

While Kevin drove to Denver, Francesca was busy on her cell phone arranging things. By Two-Mule Junction, she had airline tickets arranged for them to pick up at the airport in Denver. As they rolled through the small town of Lusk, she was arranging to change from her current apartment (in one of the buildings her family owned, naturally), to a larger, furnished condo (in another of the buildings her family owned). One of her assistants from the business would oversee the move.

"It will drive Steve crazy, if he gets back to L.A. and doesn't even know where I live anymore," she explained, grinning at Kevin.

By the time that the couple was gliding down I-25 through Cheyenne, she had contacted a moving company that would move Kevin's belongings into her new condo as well. ("And don't forget to clean out the refrigerator while you're at it," she sternly admonished.)

"Steve will be devastated when he figures out we're living together. He is so egotistical that he just can't conceive that any woman would find another man more attractive than him. And you're so attractive, Kevin!" she told him, as she reached over and stroked his leg through his jeans.

"Should I have your clothes moved into the guest room, or into the master, with mine?" she asked, with a wicked smile, certain of the answer.

She called her parents and let them know that she and Steve were a thing of the past, and that he was no longer entitled to information regarding her.

Actually, Francesca was astonished at herself. What had happened since the previous evening was so unlike her, but she couldn't help herself. There was a fire, a connection between her and Kevin that overpowered her reason.

When they dropped off the rental car at the airport in Denver, she had made reservations for them to stay out of sight at one of the exclusive hotels in Santa Monica, overlooking the Bay.

After an unremarkable flight back to Burbank, and equally unremarkable drive (although slow and irritating — but that is unremarkable on the 101 and the San Diego freeways during rush hour where Carmageddon is more or less the natural state there). They took temporary shelter in their hotel, the Loews, facing the pier and beach in Santa Monica. And turned off their cell phones. 'No one there I really wanted to talk to', as the song goes.