"I thought so, too. We're both full of surprises, aren't we?"

"Will you bring back a quart of milk? I don't drink it myself, but Mel likes to have cereal."

Geoff smiled. "Your eyes may have shutters on them, but your heart is an open door."

"Which, in case you hadn't noticed, is locked, and chained, and carries a baseball bat."

When Geoff returned, Glenn had the kitchen counter cleared, and was bringing a kettle to a boil. She took two salmon-colored Melmac cups from the drain board, and made coffee. She spooned nondairy creamer into hers, then perched on a counter stool, and watched him. Geoff seemed comfortable in the kitchen. He was the sort of person who was at ease with himself, and therefore with the world in general. As he cooked, he chatted about himself. He was in his third year at the University of Maryland, and had not declared a major. Actually, he declared a new major every semester. Nothing seemed to fit. He wasn't focused like his brother. Bobby knew he was going to enlist as soon as he graduated. But, things weren't so simple for Geoff. He remained uncommitted.

"What's that stuff you're putting on my plate?" she asked.

"It's scrapple."

"It smells yucky. I'm not eating it."

"You're going to try it." Geoff slid it off the spatula. "After I took all this time to fry it up for you."

She wrinkled her nose, sliced off a corner, and put it on her tongue. "Not bad."

"Now it's your turn. Tell me all about Glenn Prentiss."

"I'm not very interesting."

"Doubtful."

She told him how her father left when she was a baby and how her mother did the best she could, but she died during Glenn's teen years. To keep her from becoming a ward of the court, her uncle took her. He was a photojournalist, and traveled a lot.

Geoff said, "So he's the one who taught you the business?"

"He didn't like me very much, and wasn't shy about reminding me of what a drag I was on his social life. I got the idea that if I learned the trade we'd have something in common. Trouble was he'd rather have an appendectomy than teach some snot-nosed kid to take pictures. I guess you could say I learned in spite of him, or to spite him. A funny thing happened, though. When I was seventeen we went to France. He was documenting the journey of World War II veterans who liberated Paris back in the Forties."

"In 1945," Geoff said, and shrugged. "I was a history major once."

"I found one of the vets in this knoll. The morning light was filtering through the trees, and there was mist around his feet. Very ethereal, very spiritual. I got closer as he knelt down, and folded his knotted hands. It was like a church, a sacred spot. His eyes welled up with tears, and he said to me, 'This is where he died'. I was so moved, I didn't even realize I was taking pictures. I was so caught up in the moment. This old guy tells me about his buddy, the whole story like it just happened. Here it's like half a century later, and he's raised a family, and is living off some pension, and yet in his heart, his friend had just died. Then, he says how his buddy will always be frozen in time at the age of 18, and never have kids or grandkids, but also wouldn't get wrinkles, or the rheumatism. And he asks me which one of them I felt more sorry for. I said the first thing that came to mind, standing in that sacred spot, surrounded by sunlight, and memories of long ago. I told him, 'It's good to be alive'. And, he looked around at the green earth, and blue sky, and says that I'm right, itis good to be alive. It was an intensely personal moment, and I realized it was in my power to share that with people who would never walk on that green grass, or gaze into the blue heavens over France."

"Were you able to publish the pictures?" Geoff asked.

"I sold them to Life magazine, if you can believe it," Glenn said.

"I think I saw them. A couple years ago? Man, your uncle must have been beaming."

"That's what I thought. I'll never forget it. He told me I hadn't paid my dues yet, and it would probably be a cold day before I sold anything again."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing," Geoff said. "He should have been more professional. Forget the fact that he's family, whatever happened to professional courtesy?"

"I wasn't a professional, and didn't deserve any, the way he saw it."

"That stinks," Geoff said.

"So does scrapple." She smiled. "But it tastes good. Can I have some more?"

His smile was soft and sexy. "You're adorable when you sound like Oliver Twist. You should eat this every morning. It'd put some meat on those skinny bones of yours. So, what happened next?"

"Let's see. On the weight of my portfolio, and with a reference from the Veterans Administration, I had the luck of being chosen as Shane Singleton's assistant. There were much more qualified applicants. I know he just felt sorry for me."

"Yeah, maybe he noticed your lean and hungry look, like I did. You have this way of making a man want to feed you, take care of you. Unintentional, I'm sure, and probably untrue. You're a lot better at taking care of yourself than I'll ever be, but that's the vibe you give off, whether you mean to or not. Something in your eyes."

"My eyes again? I gotta start wearing shades when you're around."

He smiled again. It was a very warm and inviting smile. Glenn wondered if he was aware of the vibe he was giving off. Yeah, he'd been manipulating her since he'd showed up at her door. Caught her while she was vulnerable, just waking up with a hangover. Figured out she was barely scratching out a living, then proceeded to try to draw her in with compliments about her house and her work. Then, he ran errands for her, like he was her boyfriend, or something. He wanted something from her, no doubt about that, besides the courtesy note to his mother. What a moron he was if he expected her to be that gullible. The question remained, though, what did he want?

"So that's the guy who bought you the fax machine? Just friendship, huh? Or, was there a possible office romance? Uh-oh, no, I think not?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, right now, you look as if you'd like to split me open from gullet to gizzard with a bottle opener. I don't think you'd be that indignant at being confronted with something you actually did."

"You're on the right track. We're very close, but not in that way. He let me stay with him and his wife until I got my first apartment. I guess they sort of adopted me."

"You haven't had an easy time of it, have you?"

"Lots of people have it worse off. I've always had a place to live, and food to eat." She pierced the last piece of egg, and lifted her fork to her mouth.

"See, I was right. You do play pitiful until someone comes along, and rescues you."

"I'll tell you a secret. It works especially well on men with a hero-complex."

"Guess I'd have to plead guilty to that one," he said. "In any case, what are you doing for lunch? I was thinking, since I'm in town I'm going to see some friends, but I'd like to take you to lunch...or dinner. Let's see, you have milk and eggs in the fridge, and bread and butter, but we still have to get you some real groceries."

"I can manage."

"I'll circle back around eleven or twelve, and you can give me your answer then."

"What about your mother's note?" she asked.

"I'll get that when I come back. You can write it while I'm gone."

Glenn walked him to the door. "Thanks for the food."

"You can't go around skipping the most important meal of the day. That's what makes you so cranky in the morning."

"Are you planning on making a habit of this sort of behavior?"

"Maybe. Iam pretty good in the kitchen, don't you think?" he asked.

Glenn had a reckless impulse to ask him if he was any good in the bedroom. That's when she realized she was flat-out flirting with him. No, no, Mr. Eyes-like-chocolate, smile-like-Indian-summer. He was setting off all of her alarms toward self-preservation. This had been allowed to go far enough. She had no choice, but to turn down his date. But those particular words didn't exactly spring from her lips before he left. And as she latched the door behind him, she was disgusted by that fact, and by just how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.

She made another cup of coffee, and took it to the bedroom, where she rummaged through her drawers looking for stationery to write the note to Mrs. Duncan. When she failed to find any, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her head was still pounding. She fell back on the sheets with her legs dangling off the mattress, and stared at the ceiling for two minutes. At some point, she crept into the center of the bed. That's where she found herself when she awoke, curled into the fetal position. She sprang out of it, and lunged for the telephone.

"Hello," she said. "Hello."

And, just when she decided she'd dreamed the whole thing, a voice came back.

"I have to see you. Right away."

6.

Glenn passed her hand across her eyes. "Shane? What's wrong?"

"It's just, something came across my desk this morning. You know a lot of the foreign correspondents, don't you? If I showed you a picture, could you hazard a guess as to who did the job?"

"If it's not my work, I'm not interested," she joked.

"Not funny, amigo."

"Are you home?"

"The office," he said.

"If I meet you at Union Station, will you buy me a cappuccino? In an hour?"

There was another pause. "I think this is something you ought to see."

Glenn re-seated the phone, and looked at the clock. It was a little after 11:00 AM.

Union Station was the most accessible stop that offered more than a place to get on and off the Metro. She could take the bus from Columbia Heights to U Street. She'd take the green line to Gallery Place, then switch to the red line. Shane's office was on top of Rhode Island Avenue. If the buses and the trains were on time, she could make it in half an hour. If. But, nothing ran on time all the time, and the length of time waiting seemed to be proportional to the drop in mercury. The colder the weather, the longer the wait.

Glenn laced up her sneakers, threw on her overcoat, put her keys in the pocket, and grabbed her camera bag. As the door opened she saw Geoff rounding the corner.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go."

"Can anyone tag along?" he asked. "Could you use a ride? You said you didn't have a car."

"Going to Union Station, it's easier to catch the shuttle to Metro Station at U Street. There's no place to park there."

"I was thinking Fort Totten. Once you get on at Fort Totten you don't have to change lines,"

"Tell me something," she said. "How cold is it out there?"

"The wind has picked up. Cuts right through you." He hugged his arms around himself.

She sighed. "Where are you parked?"

In a few minutes she was sitting beside Geoff in a vintage dark blue Granada. He tucked a cassette into the tape deck.

"You know a lot about the train for someone who lives so far from the nearest station," she said.

"I go to school here. Who are you meeting?" he asked.

"A friend."

"How long do you think you'll be? You're going to need a ride home."

"Are you planning to come with me? All the way?" She shook her head. "I'll get my own transportation. I don't want you going out of your way."

"What's it to ya?"

"Nothing, as long as you don't follow me around."

He laughed. "Yeah, right. Follow you around." He slouched at the wheel, steering with his wrist. "You know where they sell memorabilia? That's my mom's favorite store. Bobby and I used to buy old presidential campaign buttons for her. You know,I like Ike . Bobby loved the train store."

"Model trains?"

"Absolutely loved them. My entire family is stuck in the past. With my dad it's the Civil War."

"And what era of history fascinates you?"

"I'll let you know when it happens," Geoff said.

"You're a futurist?"

"I don't think anything is as interesting as what might happen tomorrow." He sang along with a tenor for a while. "You going to take pictures?"

She stroked the camera bag on her lap. "As soon as you need it, you forget to bring it."

"And who are you when you forget to bring it? With your camera, you're Glenn Prentiss. Who are you without it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What does Glenda like to do?"

"For fun? My work is fun."

"That's pathetic," Geoff said.

"That I love photographs, and everything about them? I love the fact that my photographs can have an immediate impact on the viewer's emotions, the goes beyond definitions or explanation. There's a picture on my dresser of a little girl running toward a man who is kneeling. Every time I look at it tears spring to my eyes from some place so deep. I don't know."

"Typical father fixation," he said. "Sorry. I just finished my Psych final."

They rode the rest of the way accompanied by a sad southern voice drawling a domestic tragedy. At the station, they each bought a rail pass, and waited for the train. When it braked in front of them they entered a car, and sat at different ends. She piled her gear in her lap, and gazed at the wall map. The train jolted to a start. Glenn became indifferent to the passengers, the scenery, the magnetic doors and their appearances and disappearances. She was anticipating her meeting with Shane. He was so peculiar on the phone, not himself at all. She kept her eyes on the system map, measuring the path they took, counting the stops. When they left the train Geoff shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Where do you want to meet?" He matched Glenn's pace as she walked away from him. "What about lunch? In an hour? I was thinking if we hang out until dark, we could go by the Ellipse, and see the national Christmas tree. I hear they decorate all the trees around there. Supposed to be spectacular. Have you seen it?"