“Hi, Pete,” the counter-girl says.

“Yo, Cathy, how’s it going?”

“Oh, you know-slow.” She looks at the brunette. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I checked around again, but I didn’t find them. “'That’s all right,” Trish says with a wan smile. “This gentleman has agreed to give me a ride to my appointment.” “Well,” Cathy says, “Pete’s okay, but I don’t think I’d go so far as to call him a gentleman.”

“You want to watch what you say, darlin,” Pete tells her with a grin. “There’s a Rexall just down 302 in Naples.” Then he glances up at the clock. Time has sped up for him, too. That’s okay, that makes a nice change.

Pete looks back at Trish. “You came here first. For the aspirin.”

“That’s right. I got a bottle of Anacin. Then I had some time to kill, so-”

“I know, you got a coffee next door at Christie’s, then went across to Renny’s.”

“Yes.

“You didn’t take your aspirin with hot coffee, did you?”

“No, I had a bottle of Poland water in my car.” She points out the window at a green Taurus. “I took them with some of that. But I checked the seat, too, Mr… Pete. I also checked the ignition.” She gives him an impatient look which says, I know what you’re thinking: daffy woman.

“Just one more question,” he says. “If I find your car-keys, would you go out to dinner with me? I could meet you at The West Wharf. It’s on the road between here and-”

“I know The West Wharf,” she says, looking amused in spite of her distress. At the counter, Cathy isn’t even pretending to read her magazine. This is better than Redbook, by far. “How do you know I’m not married, or something?”

“No wedding ring,” he replies promptly, although he hasn’t even looked at her hands yet, not closely, anyway. “Besides, I was just talking about fried clams, cole slaw, and strawberry shortcake, not a lifetime commitment.”