Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"Now you think I'm some sort of kook, right?"

"No," I said, "but I know a lot of people in Cape Cod who would be unhappy if people stopped eating fish."

"Oh, well, for that I make an exception," he said with a wink. "I'll eat net-caught fish on occasion, as long as I know there are no chemicals added."

"Something smells very good," I admitted.

"Tonight's menu," Billy announced, sitting up straighter in his chair. "We shall begin with chilled okra-yogurt soup, then an orange, walnut and romaine salad, followed by rice, carrot, mushroom and pecan burgers on toasted seven-grain bread. For dessert, I have prepared a carob cake with carob ricotta icing. Something special in celebration of your arrival," he added.

My silence brought laughter to his lips.

"Don't know what you're in for, huh?" he said.

"It sounds . . interesting," I said, and he laughed harder.

"What's going on in here?" Holly asked as she entered the room.

"I just described the menu to Melody and she was speechless. Then she said it was interesting. How's that for diplomacy?"

"Oh. Don't worry, Melody. You're in for a delightful surprise," Holly promised.

"Did you close up?" Billy asked. She nodded.

"Then let the feast begin," he declared, slapping his hands together.

Once again I asked to help, but Billy insisted I was the guest of honor. It amazed me how quickly he could move about the kitchen, spinning himself on the wheels of his chair. Holly turned the lights down and took her seat.

The soup was delicious and refreshing. The salad was very good, but I was most surprised by the vegetable burgers because they did resemble meat in their texture and even their flavor.

"How do you do this?" I asked, munching away. "He has magic hands," Holly said.

Billy asked questions about Cape Cod, my life there and my life before in Sewell, West Virginia. He was a good listener, absorbing every detail.

Occasionally, he and Holly exchanged a look that told me they had discussed me and my situation at length.

"You have to realize," he said when I completed my explanation as to w

hy I was on this trip, "that places change people. We react to our environment, to the other people around us, to the climate and especially to the sort of energy force that is there. Even if this woman is your mother, she might be more of a stranger to you now than you would expect."

"I hope not," I said mournfully.

"Just be prepared," Billy advised.

"I don't know how to prepare for something like that"

"Maybe I can help you," he said, his eyes intense.

The telephone rang and Holly spoke to her travel agent friend. When she hung up, she told me my flight was set for the day after tomorrow.

"It will bring you into Los Angeles about eleven A.M. Pacific time. I'll call Dorothy and give her the flight number and time," she added, returning to the phone. My heart began to pound now that my plans were becoming a reality. When I looked at Billy, I saw he was smiling softly at me, his eyes full of comfort. It helped me relax again.

This time when Holly hung up, she shook her head.

"Dorothy will take you to some Beverly Hills restaurant for lunch, where you will eat a piece of celery and a cupful of pasta for a hundred dollars, I'm sure," she said. "Think of my sister as someone who has to be humored. La La Land is just Disneyland for the rich and famous."

"Oh, now let her make her own conclusions, Holly," Billy said charitably. "Who knows? She may enjoy that world."

"Not this down-to-earth girl. You listen to me, Melody. Get in and get out. Find out what you have to find out and if it isn't what you expected or what you want, put yourself on the next plane out and come back here if you like before you return to Cape Cod," Holly said. "Also, ignore ninety percent of what my sister tells you and be skeptical about the other ten percent."