After All These Years by Sally John Page B

telling him much.
Ha!
That’d be the day. If it were true, it’d be an answer to the prayer that only formed in her mind three minutes ago.
    â€œHello, Izzy.” Tony smiled.
    She cringed. Now Dot knew the nickname she abhorred. Shiny new merchandise for the gossip peddler. “Hi, Tony. Dot.”
    â€œTony,” Dot’s tone accused, “you didn’t tell me you two knew each other. And where does the name ‘Izzy’ come from?”
    He said, “In college—”
    â€œWe were,” Isabel cut in, taking no chances, “acquainted. Eons ago. Am I interrupting an interview?”
    Tony replied, “Not at all. Have you eaten?”
    â€œYes. I was wondering if we could talk.”
    He turned to the woman whose photographic memory was recording every nuance between them. Isabel hoped her jaw wasn’t obviously clenched. “Dot,” Tony said, “it has been delightful. Will you excuse me, please?”
    â€œOnly if you promise me lunch next time!” she giggled. “Just kidding. Thank you for dinner.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. Goodbye.”
    Isabel added her goodbye and headed to the edge of the shelter. She veered off into the grass toward the street, nearly pitch black compared to the brightly lit park.
    Tony caught up with her.
    She snapped, “I wonder if the
Tribune
knows how it lucked out on this assignment?” Cattiness underscored her tone. “Your expense account won’t take much of a hit at the Valley Oaks Autumn Faire.”
    â€œThat’s what you think. We had the whole dinner with creamy slaw
and
cherry pie à la mode. Where are we going, by the way?”
    â€œA quiet place.” She led him across the street to the front steps of the library. The lights, music, and laughter were muted here. Anger still churned in her stomach. No doubt Tony sensed it by now. There was no reason to mask it. She propped her hands on her hips and faced him. “Tony, what are you up to?” In spite of the attempted bravado, her voice quivered.
    He walked the few remaining feet to the stoop and sat on a step, lounged back, and clasped his hands behind his head. “Am I missing something here?”
    â€œDon’t answer my question with a question! You always did that.”
    â€œAnd aggravated you to no end.”
    That knocked the wind from her sails. She let the silence stretch between them while she struggled against remembering.
    â€œAggravating you, Izzy, was one of my favorite pastimes. If I kept you going long enough, your
r
s would start rolling like crazy and oh!” He clapped a hand to his chest and closed his eyes. “The way vowels would dance around in yourmouth, like they were something physical! And then you’d start spewing forth in Spanish. You were
the
most intriguing young girl I had ever met.”
    He used to say her speech was music to his writer’s ears. Whenever she was upset, she’d inadvertently slip into the rhythm of her parents’ accent. He would catch her unawares, egging her on to exasperation. “Tony, you were
the
most annoying guy on campus.”
    â€œWhich intrigued you.”
    Which intrigued me,
she silently assented,
as well as your charm, your handsome face, and your intelligence. Probably in that order, in the beginning anyway.
    He sobered. “It was an intense three months, wasn’t it?”
    Again, she didn’t reply.
    â€œGo ahead, yell at me, preferably in Spanish. Mine’s a little rusty.”
    â€œDo you deserve a scolding?”
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œTony!”
    He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Izzy, I’m not meaning to aggravate you. I’m simply trying to get at what you’re really asking me. You know what I’m up to. I’m writing an in-depth article about the Christian artist’s influence on today’s society.”
    â€œAll right, I’m really asking