Where Echoes Live Read Free Page B

said.
    â€œWell … he wants me to move in with him.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI don’t know if I can do that.”
    â€œShar, why not? George is a wonderful man.”
    â€œI don’t know…. I guess I need my own space.”
    â€œI’m sure there’s plenty of space for both of you in that enormous condo of his.”
    â€œBut there’s my house—I’ve finally got it fixed up the way I want it. And Ralph and Alice—”
    â€œCats? You’d sacrifice George for a couple of cats?”
    I glared at her. One of the few things she and I don’t agree on is the merits of the feline species. She’s allergic to them and seems to take the wheezing and sneezing they produce in her as a personal affront. “Ralphie and Allie are family,” I said firmly.
    Â Â â€œSo take them along. George is a cat person, isn’t he?”
    â€œYes—unlike some people I know. But we’re talking outdoor cats here. George’s flat is on the second floor, and there’s no place for them to roam but a courtyard where they’d dig up the flower beds. They’d go crazy cooped up inside, and they’d drive us crazy.”
    Anne-Marie raised her eyebrows and sighed. “Why do I feel I’m not getting the whole story?”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    She merely stared at me, waiting.
    â€œAll right.” I looked down and began fiddling with my cocktail napkin. “He’s also started talking about marriage.”
    â€œAnd what’s wrong with that?”
    â€œNothing, really. I’m not against marriage.”
    â€œFor other people.”
    â€œNo, even for myself, if conditions were right. But … here’s the real problem: I’m pretty sure he would want to have a child, sort of to make up for the daughter he lost.”
    â€œUh-oh.” Anne-Marie leaned back heavily in her chair. Her dislike of children is second only to her dislike of cats, and she assumes all other childless adults share in it.
    â€œYou see?” I said. “I’ve grown too old and selfish to have a child. I enjoy my freedom and my work too much. What would I do with a baby? Drag it to All Souls and plunk it down in a corner of my office? Take it along in the car on stakeouts?”
    â€œThere’s always day care. Or George.”
    â€œDon’t tell me he could take the primary responsibility; his career is going into high gear now that his book is being published.”
    â€œDay care,” she repeated.
    â€œOh, all right, so I’m making excuses! Dammit, it’s not as if I don’t like children. I’ve got eleven nieces and nephews, and I love them all, even though they make that extremely difficult at times. Every year I write twenty-two checks for birthdays and Christmas. Periodically they show up and eat me out of house and home and make me take them to Marine World. They call—collect—for advice on problems with their parents, their teachers, their boyfriends and girlfriends. I’m already doing my duty to the next generation!”
    Anne-Marie smiled tolerantly. “I’m with you a hundred percent on this. You don’t have to justify your feelings to me.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “And I know exactly who I am trying to justify them to.”
    Over dinner—panfried golden trout—Anne-Marie explained the situation that had brought her, and now me, to Tufa Lake. The California Coalition for Environmental Preservation, as I knew, was a troubleshooting organization funded by some twenty-five advocacy groups. One of their goals was to present a unified front to legislators by formulating a statewide policy on the environment. Anne-Marie had been engaged in research for the proposed policy up until the previous week, when a call requesting assistance had come from the Friends of Tufa Lake. Since it looked as if a legal problem might be involved, she