R. Anderson - Wayfarer

Linden could contain herself no longer. She darted forward and threw her arms around Rob, hugging him exuberantly. At first he stiffened in surprise, but then he relaxed and returned her embrace, dropping his face against her hair.

“I take it,” he murmured, “this means we are still open to negotiation?”

Timothy watched, half smiling, as Linden took Rob by the hand and led him across the lawn toward the Oak, enthusing about magic and battle strategy all the while. Then he picked up his guitar and went back into the house.

“Is that what I think it was?” said Peri, emerging from the corridor. Her pale hair was disheveled and she looked flushed, as though she had been working.

“Not sure,” said Timothy as he headed for the kitchen. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that Linden is fifteen,” said Peri darkly, “and that Rob had better watch his step. But aside from that-what are you doing?”

Timothy dropped his wallet on the counter; then he picked up the telephone receiver and started pressing buttons.

“I’m calling home,” he said.