He’d parked facing south on New Cut Road, halfway between Highway 166 and the point at which the road construction ended. The Tanner house was dead-center in his line of vision. To his immediate left was a gravel road leading back to the old Aldrich packing plant. The swing-arm gate across the entrance was padlocked and had been for years, so the spot was the perfect place to unwind. The midsummer air was humid. In his rearview mirror, he could see a breeze undulating across the fields, ruffling the dark green leaves of the sugar beets. A tractor trundled by hauling a bulldozer on a low-boy flatbed, the only traffic he’d seen for the past hour. While he watched, the driver did a clumsy K-turn and positioned his rig in preparation for unloading. Chet took another slug of vodka, dwelling on the trivial while he tried to assimilate the grand.

Wednesday seemed like a lifetime ago, though it was only two days. He hadn’t known how depressed he was until Violet cracked through his life like a lightning bolt. She’d been dazzling, and for the first time in his life he’d been engulfed by desire. He felt like she’d doused him with gasoline and set him afire. The minute she’d proposed a drink, he’d seen where she was headed. Dazed, he’d followed her out to his car, tossing an explanation to Kathy as he left. He couldn’t remember now what he’d said to her, some lame excuse she’d accepted with a shrug. For once, he’d been grateful his daughter was such a dunce. Despite her moony crushes on movie stars, she was sexually backward, too naive to recognize the chemistry that had flashed so suddenly between Violet and him.

After leaving the dealership, Violet abandoned all talk of his buying her a drink. They got in his car and she directed him to the Sandman Motel, which was two blocks away. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Violet was clearly well acquainted with the place. She’d instructed him to check in as a single, under an assumed name. She waited outside while he registered as William Durant, which was actually the name of the man who founded General Motors back in 1908. He was afraid the desk clerk would catch the joke, but she didn’t bat an eye. Having deceived her to that extent, he invented a fictitious home address and a detailed explanation of why he needed a room. He was more imaginative than he’d thought. He went on lying through his teeth, flirting with the girl until she blushed a becoming pink. He paid for the room, took the key, and returned to his car.

Violet was gone, but he spotted her at the far end of the parking lot, leaning against the wire fence that surrounded the swimming pool. She waited until he’d parked outside the room, and then she stepped on her cigarette and ambled in his direction, taking her sweet time. She must have known what a picture she made-sunlight shining on her red hair, her figure fully defined by the tight purple sundress. He was trembling at the prospect of having her.

When she reached him, she held out her hand. He dropped the key in her palm and watched as she unlocked the door. He followed her in, marveling at his calm. He had no idea what she expected of him. She set the key on the bed table and turned to him. “I bought you a bottle of vodka, but then forgot the damn thing and left it at home. Sorry ‘bout that. I thought you might need a couple of belts to soothe your nerves.”

“You planned this?”

“Sweetie, do I look like an idiot? I’ve seen you watching me. You think I don’t know what’s been going through your head?”

“Our paths hardly cross.”

“No fault of mine. If you weren’t so straightlaced, I’d have done this ages ago. I got tired of waiting for you to make a move. So here we are-surprise, surprise.”

“But why?”

She laughed. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re a good-looking guy and you’re sexy as hell. I’ll tell you something else. You’ve been working too hard. I can see it in your face. When’s the last time you cut loose and had fun, for god’s sake?”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

“Who asked you to talk? Did I say anything about chatting, Chet?” She was making a little joke of his name, but he found he didn’t mind. She sat down on the bed, patting the place beside her. “Look at you. All tense. Come over here and I’ll help you relax.”

He crossed to the bed, moving as though drugged. When he reached her, she rubbed the palm of one hand against the front of his pants. “My, oh my. This is going to be good.”

She’d been gentle and sweet, guiding him through a process so highly charged and novel he felt his heart would stop. Nothing with Livia had ever prepared him for such heat. Violet thought his shyness was a riot after all the bullshit he’d laid on her earlier. She’d said, “Big tough guy” in a way that made him laugh. How could she mock him and make him feel good at the same time?