.”She giggled. “Once upon a time...”“Almost is, baby.”“I like being ‘baby’. It’s different being ‘baby’ to you than it was with Grandma.”“I love you differently than your Grandma.”“I hope so, Bob,” she said.We paid the ticket, left, had a discussion about whether we needed to stop anywhere on the way home.“Nope. Take me home.”Not that much of a discussion.Once home, we went in separate directions, me to my bathroom, she to hers. I’m fast. Shower, shave, etc. Okay, she likes this aftershave, so a splash ... I like the way it feels.When I get out, she’s still in her process. I hear the hair dryer running. Sometimes she dries with it, sometimes not.I turned on the TV, not expecting much to be on, certainly giving her the chance to make a choice.I was in my recliner, wearing the pajamas that had become de rigeur since Carlie moved in. Carlie bounced out wearing her customary knit cotton nightshirt, loose, down to just above her knees. I’m happy with that choice. She has others. She bought. On the other side of the floor was a box holding other camping accessories. It sat on top of two foldout chairs and a tiny fold-up table. Marty could easily imagine taking off in this car and pulling up anywhere to camp. “Will you marry me?” he said jokingly but also half-seriously. Finding a woman who loved cars and camping was rare in his experience.Mary laughed and replied, “Come on, spunky, let’s get your gear. I’ll get you some linen so you can make up the bed while I rustle up some food for us.”She waited while he grabbed his laptop and a bag from the car. She closed up the garage behind them once he was ready. She looked up at the dark sky and noticed the wind had increased to occasional gusts. The outside lights under the walkway showed them the way to the house.She let him drop his laptop inside the front door and then took Marty through a second door that opened onto the veranda near the main door. From the small landing, she flicked on the lights over the stairs. She went.
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