Whistler's Angel by John R. Maxim

racing, lots of starts, zero wins. As for those two triathlons, I only finished one, and in that one I barely staggered across. And as for ballet…”
    “Boobs too big,” said her mother.
    “Sure, and whose fault is that? Look at yours.”
    “I’m…ah, still impressed,” said Whistler, almost blushing. “I’m not that good at anything I’ve tried.”
    “Not true,” said his father.
    “Didn’t think so,” said Claudia. “Let’s talk about you for a change.”
    That was where the lies started, mixed in with the truth. Grew up in Europe, went to French and Swiss schools, then came over here to go to college. All true.
    “By here, you mean the States?”
    “Here in Colorado. Boulder. I went to UC, but…well, I didn’t finish. I dropped out in my senior year.”
    “Flunking? Girl trouble? What made you leave?”
    “Nothing like that. I just needed a change. I joined the army. Finished school in the service. After that, I got into consulting.” Partly true.
    “What kind of consulting?”
    “Right now I’m with the Department of Commerce. Trade agreements, import quotas...that kind of thing. Dry stuff, on the whole, but I do enjoy the travel.” This part was entirely false.
    But Claudia and her mother had no reason to doubt them. And his father, as long as they were being inventive, proceeded to fill in the blanks. He told a few stories about his boyhood, young-manhood, all intended to make him seem wholesome, unthreatening, and at least a passable athlete.
    “So he’s an only child? No brothers or sisters?”
    His father answered, “One of him is enough.”
    Neither Claudia nor her mother seemed to catch the evasion. In fact, there had been a younger sister. His father said to Claudia, “Adam lives outside Washington. Do you ever have occasion to go east?”
    “Not to Washington. I’ve never been there.”
    “I’m sure Adam would be happy to show you around.”
    She grinned. “Not to push it, though, right?”
    “Yes, he is,” said Whistler, “but he’s going to stop.”
    “Not on my account. I’m enjoying it.”
    She later told him how he’d stammered and blushed as he tried to ask his next question. “Sometimes I have business out here...well, in Denver. If I were to call you...”
    “I’d like that. Please do.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, really.”
    “I mean…look…I know I’m putting you on the spot…”
    The grin spread wider. “Did your father just kick you?”
    Yes, he had. “No, I want to. What I mean to say is…”
    “Do I have to kick you myself?”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “Then call me the next time you’re coming.”

SEVEN
    Too young, too nice, and maybe too bright. Add to that the fact that she lived in Cherry Creek where Aubrey must have eyes and ears. On the other hand, as his father said later, the question was more like “Where doesn’t he?” Even so, it seemed a better idea not to venture where there might be dragons.
    He would not call Claudia.
    Well…maybe he would.
    Maybe she would agree to meet him in Denver. Neutral ground. More to do. Better restaurants.
    He did call. He suggested it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
    She said, “You’re invited to come out to the house. Your father says you need some home cooking.”
    “My father? When was this?”
    “Mom and your father have been emailing each other. You know, just stuff about skiing and such, but your name came up once or twice.”
    “Once or twice?”
    “Yeah, I know. He’s still trying to push us together. But so what? Let’s see if we click.”
    “Um…there’s no boyfriend? No one else in your life?”
    “Tom Cruise, Richard Gere and a few Saudi Princes. But I’ll dump them if you’re coming out.”
    “Start dumping. I’ll be there next Friday night.”
    “You’ll stay at the house?”
    “Sure, I’d love to.”
    He flew out for the weekend. They spent two full days together. He came back almost every two weeks after that. He’d heard from Aubrey once. A request for a