Vic came back to town with no fanfare and no warning at all. His little sports car was filled to the brim with clothes and books. I cried and clung to him when he drove into the alley cubbyhole where we’d been keeping his car after moving it from the town garage. Anyone watching us—meaning the entire hotel staff—would probably think we’d been apart years instead of a measly seven days.
While the fly fishermen were checking in during my lonesome week, I’d transferred Vic’s things to my suite. I was pretty sure when he said he’d live in the hotel until he found a place, he meant he’d be staying with me. It didn’t really matter since I’d rented out his room.
In retrospect, I should have used the time when we were separated to plan how we would share our lives here, where he would put his cl
