“Do you miss Washington, and being in the center of things? A citizen of the bigger world?”

He thought. Catherine watched the ripple of his muscles as he put his arms behind his head.

“When I’ve been in Lowfield for a while,” he answered slowly, “it seems like the center of things.”

“Can you see without your glasses?” Catherine asked solemnly.

“No,” said Randall and smiled. He took them off and blinked at her blindly. “Do you get tired of writing up weddings?”

“They’re all the same: only the names have been changed,” she said. “I like it mostly. It needs to be done, and it keeps me busy. It makes people happy…Did you want to hire me?”

“I knew you could do it,” Randall said. “I just wondered why you wanted to. Then I talked to my mother, who still has half-interest in the paper. She was absolutely sure that you were exactly what the Gazette needed. I think she had designs on you.”

Catherine raised her eyebrows.

“She was tired of my catting off to Memphis bars.”

“Oh.” Catherine blinked.

“Time coasted by, and I was busy and you were quiet and did your work and went home.”

Catherine said, “Um.”

“And gradually, as I began to remember the reason I thought she wanted you at the paper, I began to look at you.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“I know, and I was mad as hell. I said, ‘Randall, you’re twelve years older than this girl, and you prance by her desk a dozen times a day, and she doesn’t look up. When you talk to her, she just nods and goes back to work.’” He opened his eyes to cock a look at Catherine. She kept her face still. “‘And she looks at you blankly,’” he said.

Catherine laughed.

“I practically doubled my running time in the evening and added five pounds to my weights.”

She reached down to touch his shoulder appreciatively.

“And I was scared to ask you out, because you were an employee, and how would you feel you could refuse? I didn’t know how you’d react.”