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he smiled and said, ''Thank you." |
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Then he upended the mason jar over Bryan's stomach. |
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Kyna shook Cyrus awake. She was sitting on the side of the bed rubbing her eyes. "I'm hungry." |
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He smiled as if everything was wonderful, then jumped up before she noticed that his body was wringing wet in an ice-cold room. |
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Kyna put on his favorite dressa clingy black shirtdress that stopped just above her knees, and a string of cultured pearls. She said it was going to be a special night and insisted he wear a pair of his new slacks and the sport coat she had purchased for him. |
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"Better bring a coat," he suggested. "I smell a change in the weather." |
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Cyrus wasn't happy with the way Kyna was actingshe was much too calm. But she brought along a topcoat, so he was momentarily pacified. |
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Wistfully, Kyna asked to have Mexican foodagain. |
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"I'm not complaining, you understand," he said. "But aren't you tired of Mexican food?" |
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"Maybe," she replied. "But it's a tradition. And sometimes traditions are the only things that last." |
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And again Cyrus felt a pang of concern at her fatalistic tone. But he did as she asked and found a cozy little place on the edge of Old Town where, with only the flame from a candle in a small lamp for light, they sipped margaritas and listened to the mournful strings of a strolling guitarist. |
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The day they met, Cyrus decided that Kyna was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now, in that soft, flickering light, she looked positively enchanting. |
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"You look positively enchanting," he said. |
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She smiled. "You look pretty good yourself." |
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Kyna dropped her eyes. "It's the margaritas." |
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"No. It's you. You've always been beautiful, but you've |
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