"You're absolutely soaked through," I said.
"I know. If I die. . .'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
"You're such an idiot," I said, laughing. I didn't see my driving school instructor and his car, and I was already ten minutes late. "Go around the house. There's a side entrance that's right off the garage."
"Oh, servant's entrance, huh?"
He pulled up,
"I'm sorry you got so wet. You want to come in and dry off?"
I felt I had to offer that. It was only right.
"Sure," he said.
"Okay, follow me," I said, took a breath, opened the door, and charged for the side entrance with him following right behind.
We burst into the house, both laughing.
"Now that's a rain," he said.
Mrs. McAlister stepped out of the kitchen and looked at us.
"Hello, Mrs. McAlister," I said. "This is Trevor Foley. He brought me home because Ami didn't show up. Do you know where she is or what happened to her?"
"Hardly," she said.
"What about my driving instructor?"
"He called to say he wasn't coming today because you weren't experienced enough yet to drive in such weather. Now, beside being a cook, I'm the 'message taker here. People who call usually call Mrs. Emerson's direct line and leave messages on her machine."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't . . . I mean, I don't have a machine or. . ."
"You'd better not continue to stand there dripping on Mrs. Cukor's floors. She'll cast a nasty spell on you," she warned, and returned to the kitchen.
"Who's that, and who's Mrs. Cukor?"
"Hopefully, you won't find out," I muttered. "Take off your shoes and socks and at least get yourself dried off. I know how to use a drier. The laundry room is right off the hallway down here," I said. "That's a very cold rain."
"Brrr," he said, exaggerating, but he did look uncomfortable. His pants were soaked through and through.
He slipped off his shoes and socks and followed me down the hallway. I took him to the downstairs powder room first.
"What a house! I thought ours was something special," he said, looking everywhere.
"Go in there and take off your wet clothes," I said, pointing to the powder room. "I'll get you a robe to wear until I get them dry," I said.
I hurried upstairs, fetched the thick terry-cloth robe off the hook in my bathroom, and hurried down. Then I tapped on the bathroom door and handed him the robe when he opened it, standing in his briefs only and smiling out at me. He handed me his wet clothes. He laughed at the look on my face and began to put on the robe.
"Smells great," he said, sniffing.
"I'll be down in the laundry room," I said, and started for it.
After I put his clothes in to dry, I gathered up my schoolbooks and then found him standing in the hallway in his bare feet, looking through the den doorway at Wade's mother's portrait. Mrs. Cukor finally appeared, stepping out of the living room, where she had been polishing furniture. The sight of him stopped her cold.
"Trevor," I called. "I'm sorry I forgot a pair of slippers. Come with me until your clothes dry."
He looked at Mrs. Cukor, whose glare could send anyone running for company and safety, and then joined me at the foot of the stairs.