"If you loved me, why didn't you let me make love to you?"

"You're my most perfect friend in the entire world. Why would I ever let you fuck me and mess that up?"

Two weeks passed and I'd put Howie Abbott from my mind when Betsy called one evening as I heated a frozen dinner in my lonely apartment. She was back in Washington.

"I found it!" she exclaimed as soon as I answered her call.

I assumed she meant a wedding dress or something connected to our pending wedding until she continued. "Alder's Bridge was re-named Brockville, after the first soldier fatality of World War Two! That's why we couldn't find it. It really exists!" She was as excited as the night I proposed.

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"That's good news for Howie," I said. "Are you going to write him and let him know?"

Are you kidding? I called him before I called you! He was thrilled with the news!"

"That's good to hear," I said. "How did you learn about the name change?"

"I called an historical society, or two. A kindly old man researched it for me." It surprised me to learn Betsy was actively working on Howie's dreams. Neither of us mentioned the subject since we left New Hampshire. Sensing my reaction she added, "It's sort of what I do in my job; research things. Howie doesn't have a clue so I thought I'd help him out."

"You've been in contact with him?"

"Just a phone call or two. You don't mind do you?"

"No; I'm just surprised. Is Howie going to take this business further?"

"I think he wants to . . . actually, I know he does."

"How do you know?"

"He'd like to see the place."

"California is a long way from West Virginia, Betsy."

There was a long pause. "I'm not far away. Brockville is just over the border from Maryland and Washington. It's only a four hour trip, maybe. I'm stuck here over the weekend anyway . . . with nothing much to do."

"You don't have a car."

"We could rent one."

"We?"

"You could fly down after work on Friday. It's only a short hop."

I missed Betsy desperately and the idea of a couple of unexpected days with her was inviting, regardless of the reason."

"I'm not sure what seeing the place would accomplish but I guess if we photographed it and sent Howie pictures, he might recognize something." She remained silent. "A couple of days together is appealing," I said in my sexiest voice.

Betsy paused before answering. "We wouldn't exactly be alone. Howie is flying out to D.C. on Friday morning." I was stopped in my tracks. She continued. "You want to know why I'm involved; right. He's like a clueless kid; he doesn't know where to turn and this is super important to him. He's offered to pay for everything; even your flight down. He mentioned inviting Quinn and Martha too, and paying their way."




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