Sole Remedy ch 9

Michele Bravo and the Sole Remedy Chapter 9

I.

After Michele Bravo and Vic Durant had made love, and then laid back and watched the stars overhead for a while, they retired to Durant’s bedroom and spent the rest of the night in a comfy bed.

In the morning, Michele opened her eyes to see Durant already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her. “Good morning,” he told her.

“Good morning,” she responded with a smile.

“I was about to make breakfast. Would you like some?”

Michele smiled. “In Rome, we have only croissant and coffee, but in America I always eat as the Americans do. Pancakes with lots of maple syrup would be bellisimo.”

“You have a sweet tooth.”

“I do indeed. I shall have a shower and then find my way to your kitchen.”

“Very good.” She watched him leave the room, enjoying the play of the muscles in his back. He was wearing pajama bottoms, but no top – she was wearing the top.

Michele rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. She preferred to take baths, but she also liked her pancakes warm and her maple syrup hot, so she could not dally. After five minutes, therefore, she turned off the water, toweled herself dry, put on panties, bra and pajama top, and headed into the kitchen.

Durant was just arranging stacks of pancakes on two plates. Butter was ready to be used as desired, and he had indeed, warmed the maple syrup – and it was real maple syrup. Michele was really beginning to regret that she’d never see this man again.

They ate in companionable silence, and when they were done, Michele said, “Well, Vic, I have had a lovely time.”

Vic put down his coffee cup. “That sounds like you’re planning on leaving.”

“You are right, I must go. I have a lot of packing to do.”

“Packing?”

“Yes. I leave for Mexico tomorrow.”

“Well, damn,” said Durant. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping to take you out to dinner some time this week.”

“Yes, that would have been nice.”

“Well, it’s an open invitation. When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure. I may be some time.”

“Ah,” said Durant. Inwardly he thought, Mexico…maybe she’s doing something in the drug war….or artifact smuggling…

Out loud he said, “Well, but what about your art gallery?”

“My manager already runs it better than I could.”

Durant sighed. “Well, I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed. I really wanted to spend some more time with you.”

Michele nodded. “And to be frank, I would have liked to have spent more time with you.” (This was true enough.) But I have been planning this trip for some time, and I simply must go.”

“Well, surely it can’t take you all day to pack. You seem like the type of woman who’d already be packed, truth to tell.”

Michele grinned. “That is true, I do like to be prepared well in advance.”

“Luck favors the prepared,” quoted Durant.

“Exactly,” Michele said, delighted. “We are so simpatico.”

“In that case, how about we spend some more time together.”

“Well, the Bronx Zoo has a miniature golf course.”

“I know that one. It recreates the 18 toughest holes from golf courses all over the world.”

“I thought you would have heard of it. Shall we go have a match?”

“You’re on.”

II.

Michele placed her feet shoulder width apart, placed her putter to one side of the ball, and made a few practice swings. Then, she struck the ball with just enough force…

“No, no, no,” she said, “too fast, too fast.”

“It still has a chance,” murmured Durant. “It’s…it’s…”

“Argh,” groaned Michele. “That’s another dollar.”

Durant extended his hand, and Michele placed a dollar bill in it. They were playing a dollar a stroke, and although Michele had a natural talent for miniature golf, Durant had played for decades and was beating her mercilessly.

“So why Mexico?”Durant asked, as they waited for a couple of teenagers in front of them to stop giggling and get on with the game.

“Do you know what a Big Lister is?”

Durant placed his ball on the starting spot and addressed it, as he said, “That’s a bird watching term, isn’t it?”

“Yes. There are approximately 10,000 bird species in the world. And there are millions of bird watchers. And only about 20 of them have seen more than 7,000 of those species. Those are big listers. And I intend to become one. First stop, Mexico.”

“First stop, Mexico? How many species do you still have to go?”

Michele shrugged, as she moved to the starting point and placed her own ball on the ground. “I have a long way to go. I will be gone for at least a year.”

Durant nodded thoughtfully. If he hadn’t seen her hurdle a balustrade and drop 20 feet to the ground below without hesitation, he might just believe that she was a wealthy bird watcher going off on an innocuous quest. On the other hand, he thought, don’t be a snob. Bird watchers weren’t effete men and women sitting in a bush with binoculars waiting for birds to fly by. They climbed mountains, forded rivers….indeed, if he remembered correctly, one famous bird watcher – famous before his death and not because of the manner of it – had actually been eaten by a tiger.

“Are you going with a birding group?” he asked, after sinking his ball on his second attempt.

Michele concentrated on her own putting, with little success. After handing three dollars to Durant, she said, “I always travel alone.”

Ordinarily Durant would have admonished her to be careful, but he didn’t feel the need with this woman.

“Well,” he said, “I think I have proven my mastery of miniature golf.”

“You have, I cannot deny it. Lunch is going to have to be your treat.”

“My pleasure.”

III.

After lunch, they walked through the Botanical Gardens. Durant pointed out birds and Michele identified them.

“Does your expertise extend to plants and flowers?” asked Durant.

“Of course. And considering how much money you took from me through miniature golf, I should regale you with the names of every single plant and flower in these gardens 250 acres!”

Durant hugged her with a laugh.

IV.

Michele drove up to Durant’s home. They’d spent the entire day at the Bronx Park – which consisted of the Bronx Zoo and the Bronx Botanical Gardens as well as the park itself.

“There’s still a gallon of chocolate ice cream in the fridge,” Durant said.

Michele smiled. “You are such a tempter. I will come in for ice cream, but then I simply must go home.”

V.

Michele was true to her word. She and Durant sat on his couch – side by side – eating ice cream and watching The Big Bang Theory.

Finally, Durant escorted her to her car.

“If you run into any trouble, don’t hesitate to send for me,” he said.

Michele gazed into his eyes. “Really?” she asked. “Even if I’m in the wilds of Borneo?”

“Even if,” said Durant. “You saved the life of my boss, who also happens to be my friend. So I owe you for that. And then there’s the fact that I am really into you.”

Well, damn, thought Michele. You just had to use the Taran Tula identity for this little caper, didn’t you? Screwed everything up.

Out loud she said, “Very well, Vic. I…I’ll keep in touch.”

They kissed briefly, and then Michele drove away.

VI.

It was too late to go back now. The Taran Tula identity had to be dispensed with.

Michele had already made the arrangements. She’d given the manager of her art gallery – who already did all the work anyway, Michele had just put up the money to open the gallery and run it until it started to make a profit – a power of attorney, and placed her in charge in “Taran Tula’s” absence.

She’d never used an apartment as Taran Tula, so there was no need to do anything with that. And all bank accounts had been in the name of the art gallery.

So now, she would just drive into Mexico as Taran Tula, and drive out again as Michele Bravo. Diplomatic relations with Mexico were so strained that if someone came to them looking for her entrance papers, Mexico might not even share them…and if papers proving she’d left the country were never found, that would just be put down as the incompetence of the Mexican border patrol. She would have effectively disappeared.

Of course, she’d have to send post-cards with foreign stamps from various countries, now not only to her manager but to Vic as well, but that was easily arranged.

So, goodbye Taran Tula.

Michele sighed, more sorrowfully than she expected. “Goodbye, Vic Durant.”