“Oh well.” She gave a wicked chuckle. “I didn't do badly, did I?”

“No, they're not even going to charge for the 'masterpiece' you ruined. One flash of your eyes and he buckled at the knees.”

“But that's not being cynical,” she said earnestly. “That's being nice to people. I did spoil his master piece, so I just said sorry and…and…that's all there was to it.”

She meant it, he realized. Dottie might talk about playing off her tricks, but the truth was she preferred being nice to people. The smile sprang from her kindness and honesty, which was why it was dynamite.

Encouraged by Randolph, Dottie chatted about her family, which seemed almost nonexistent. Neither her parents nor her grandparents were still alive, and he gathered that she'd been alone since she was sixteen. She told this part of the tale without conscious pathos. She'd fended for herself and survived with her humor intact. No big deal.

She knew how to tell a funny story, and a woman who could do that had never been part of Randolph's experience. All the strains and tensions of his life seemed to fall away as he rocked with laughter at her description of her grandmother coping with her grandfather's numerous flirtations.

“'Course she knew he loved her really, and she loved him, but she was always chucking pans at him, and if she really thought he'd blotted his copybook she'd be after him like a ferret up a drainpipe.”

“Pardon me?” he said, startled. “Ferret? Drainpipe?” These too, were outside his experience.

“Sorry. Don't suppose you've ever seen a ferret, have you?”

“No,” he said thankfully.

“Grandpa wanted to keep some, as pets, but Grandma said over her dead body, and he said not to tempt him.”

She finished the meal with an exotic ice cream and another glass of wine.

“It's my third,” she said guiltily. “Ought I?”

“Wine as good as this can be drunk safely,” he assured her. “And I promise you're quite safe with me.”