Book One, Page Thirteen. The Redhead In The Night.
A young woman with long red hair stood in the door of Jerry and Julie's bedroom. Julie, on the opposite side of the bed from the door, was in deep sleep. Jerry sat on the bed and recognized the woman as Winifred Lancaster. She wore a chef's white jacket. Below that it was nothing but smooth, perfect legs. She turned her face, and the light coming through the door illuminated it like the crescent moon, enough that he could see she was smiling, but not much more. She took a few steps toward Jerry. He sat up in bed, pivoted around, and then slid to a standing position facing her. It occurred to him that he was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He touched her arm and walked around her. She turned to follow him with her gaze. He saw Julie's face, but with red hair. When she spoke, he heard a soft, smoky voice nothing like Julie's.
"It's lonely in bed without my cat," the woman said.
It took Jerry a few more seconds to realize that this was not really happening. He was looking into Julie's face, but her eyes were closed, her head on the pillow, next to the pillow where Jerry's head lay. His heart was pounding, and he was in a state of excitement. He sat up a bit too quickly.
"What's the matter?" said Julie, startled. She listened to Jerry, who was breathing heavily. "Is it this again? Jerry, you must go to the doctor to have him check this reflux problem of yours. Every time you do that you scare the crap out of me! Here! Feel my heart beating!"
"It wasn't reflux," he said. "I was having a dream that someone was in here. She was. . . oh, forget it. It's too stupid. I'm sorry. It felt real. . . okay, it wasn't. None of it happened. Life is normal."
"Who's 'she'?" Julie wanted to know.
"It was you, but it was actually not you. Your face, somebody else's voice."
"Tell me in the morning. It's quarter to four. Good night, or whatever."
Jerry lay there, wide awake, listening to his wife's gentle snoring, for over an hour. He thought about the dream. How absurd. He had no idea what Winifred Lancaster looked like. And he was very happily married. Never had an unfaithful thought. What was he doing in that dream? It was disturbing. But also very, very sexy. His last feeling, as he returned to sleep, was guilt mixed with a hope that the dream would resume.
When Jerry woke up, Julie was up and fully dressed. He sat up, a little disappointed.
"Good morning, sleepy!" she said. "Forty-five minutes till your office opens! I told Jeannie and Carol I'd meet them for coffee this morning. Later!" she swooped by to slap a kiss on his mouth, and then whooshed out the door, those pants making their usual sound as she walked.
Jerry's mind was in the thrall of carnal urges, but there was nothing he could do about that now. Still, the dream kept interrupting his thoughts, which for days until now were an all-consuming focus on his possible restaurant.
He had no time to make any calls about that. He hoped there would be nobody waiting to see him at the veterinary office. That way he could call the real estate agent from there. He also thought about having lunch in some restaurant where he knew the owners, so he could get a line on buying equipment. Maybe it would be a good idea to sit and talk with somebody in the business before he leapt into it.
However, the waiting room was occupied when he arrived. Two dogs waited for shots. Another was becoming incontinent. That was Jerry's least favorite problem, not because of any accidents that happened in his office, but because he hated the attitude change it wrought in the poor pet's owners. An animal who had been up to that time a beloved member of the family became an outcast at a time when it most needed love and understanding. The number of pet owners who put their dogs or cats to sleep because they peed in the house a couple of times was disgusting.
The flow of patients continued all morning. Most of the time, nothing could make Jerry happier. Now it made him testy. He wanted to turn his full attention to his restaurant plans, instead of the half-concentration he was giving it. The building and the chef had to be secured, and both were in danger of slipping away.
And there was that dream. Who was that tender redhead?
"Is there something wrong, Jerry?" Peggy asked. "It's like you don't want to be here."
"I don't," Jerry said. The sound of that declaration stopped him, as if he'd said the wrong thing to his wife or a policeman. "I mean, I have some other things on my mind. I really need to deal with them so I can concentrate on the office."
"Is there something I can do?" Peggy asked.
"Yes!" Jerry said, realizing he had a resource in Peggy that he was not using. "It has nothing to do with the office, though. Do you mind calling a few people?"
"Of course not! Who?"
"A real estate agent. You have to call her at least a dozen times to get her. I want to set up a meeting with the owners of a building I want to buy."
"A building? Are we moving?"
"No. It's an old drugstore I want to turn into a restaurant."
"A restaurant? I had no idea we were doing that well here. Who's going to run it?"
"Me. Me and Julie."
"What?" Peggy laughed. "That's ridiculous! Who would let a veterinarian cook for them? Imagine the rumors!"
