"And how do you propose to do that?" Barbara Bellmon threw her husband a credible bump-and grind and then leered lewdly at him.

"Go take your shower," she said. "Maybe something will occur to me."

(Three) The Ozark Cafe Courthouse Square Ozark, Alabama J 805 Hours 4 April 1964 Jack Portet, wearing an obviously new sports coat and trousers, and Marjorie Bellmon sat on plastic-upholstered benches on opposite sides of a well-worn Micarta table, drinking coffee from china mugs.

A single rose lay on the table. When she'd gotten out of her MGB, Jack had thrust a dozen long-stemmed roses at her.

He was now very much afraid that the roses had been a blunder. He was aware that he had an awesome talent to blunder magnificently when something was really important to him.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said. "I hardly know you."

"That's what I'm trying to rectify." She had met his eyes, for just a moment, and then looked away.

"Where would you like to go.?" Jack asked.

"Over there," she said, indicating the brick wall of-the Ozark Cafe.

"That's a dump!" Jack blurted. "I was just in there. Even the coffee is bad."

"Nevertheless," Marjorie said somewhat snappishly, "that's where I want to go." She pulled one rose from the green paper and put the rest on the front seat of her car.

When the waitress offered menus, she said, "No, thanks, I'm not hungry. Just coffee, please."

"I thought we were going to have dinner," Jack said: "Just coffee, please," Marjorie repeated firmly.

"One coffee," Jack said.

"You don't want coffee?"

"I've been sitting in here for two hours drinking coffee," he said.

She met his eyes and was disturbed by her reaction to." them.

She had hurt him or made him angry, and she realized that she hadn't wanted to do either.

"I wanted to talk before we went somewhere else," she said.

"We are going somewhere else? We are not going to have our night on the town right here in the Ozark Cafe?"

She smiled, then chuckled. "The folklore is that what a lonely soldier, far from home, really wants most is a home-cooked meal. "

"What this lonely soldier had in mind was a dimly lit room with candlelit tables and a violinist wandering through the place playing Hungarian love songs."

"What you're going to get is a home-cooked meal."

"And I'll bet you've got a dog and a little brother, and everything."

"I do," she said, "but I'm not taking you home. I have a girlfriend and she has-she and her husband have-a house here in town-and we're going there."

"I'll bet she's ugly or fat or both," Jack said. "It is sacred writ that every incredibly beautiful girl is attached to a fat and/or ugly one."

"I thank you for the compliment," Marjorie chuckled "And for the roses. And you're wrong. She's really quite pretty."

"And we can play Scrabble or something, right?"

"I wanted to tell you about Geoff, the husband," Marjorie, said, "before we go there."

"Oh "

"He's a really nice guy. I really like him;"

"But?"

"He's an officer for one thing. . ."

"And he's actually willing to socialize with an enlisted man?"

"He was an enlisted man. Don't be a reverse snob."

"OK.".

"And he's very rich."

"That's nice, but so whit?"

"SO' nothing," she replied. "I just wanted to' warn you before we went there."

"I have nothing against rich people," Jack said. "I always hope Some of it will rub off on me."

When she smiled, he asked, "Are you rich, too?"

"My father is in the Army."

"'An officer, no' doubt? And how does he feel about you socializing with the enlisted men?"

"He is not thrilled, frankly," Marjorie said after a moment.

"He'll get used to it after we're married." Startled, she met his eyes. There was more in them than a wisecrack.

"My God!" she said Softly and stood up. "Pay for the coffee," she ordered and walked out of the restaurant ahead of him.

They got in the red Jaguar and she directed him to a subdivision and finally to a rather large frame house set on a wide lawn a hundred feet from the street.

"Pull in the driveway," Marjorie ordered.

There were two cars in the carport, an Oldsmobile station wagon and a Volkswagen, both new and wearing Fort Rucker blue officer's registration decals.

Before they could get out of the car, Geoff Craig came from inside the house.

"I knew it, I knew it!" he cried. "Ursula! Come out here and see what you did to me!" Ursula Craig, a dishcloth in her hand, came out. A look of Concern was on her face.

"Look!" Geoff said, Pointing to the Jaguar. "I told you that if I thought it over, Some sonofabitch was going to buy it out from under me." Ursula shook her head and kissed Marjorie.

"How do you do?" she said to Jack, putting out her hand. "I am pleased that you could come to my home you will have to excuse my husband-he sometimes acts as if he is five years old."

"Sind Sie deutsch, gniidige Frau?" Jack asked, picking up on the accent.

"la," Ursula said, smiling, pleased. "Und Sie?"

"Nein, ich bin Amerikaner, aber meine Stiefmutter ist eine Hamburgerin."

"Christ," Geoff said. "On top of everything else, now they can talk behind our backs. " He smiled at Jack and put out his hand. "I'm Geoff Craig," he said. "And I'm really glad to see you, even if you did steal this beauty out from under my nose. You're a vast improvement over what Marjorie usually runs by here."

"How do you know?" Jack asked. He had quickly decided he liked Geoff Craig, even if he was an officer.

"Anybody with the taste to buy something like that:" Geoff said, Pointing to the Jaguar, "for one thing. And for another, I don't think You're going to spend all night talking about the goddamned Army or the Good Old Days at Hudson High."

"Hudson High?" Jack asked.

"Wonderful!" Geoff said. "He doesn't even know what it is. Hudson High is what those of us with the wrong attitude call West Point."

He put his arm around Jack's shoulder and led him, into the house.

"I am going to ply you with strong drink," he said. "And then try to talk you out of the car."

"I like the car," Jack .said.

"I was afraid You'd say that."

The house was expensively furnished but looked comfortable; there was a sense of pleasant disarray. Books and magazines on the floor beside what was obviously Geoff Craig's chair, instead of neatly arranged on tables or a shelf. And there was a well-stocked bar.

"What Would you like?" Geoff asked. "I'm about to have a straight malt scotch. to set the tone of the evening. After which, tongue anaesthetized, I will switch to the cheap stuff."

"We have some Rhine wine," Ursula said.

"Scotch sounds fine," Jack said.

Over the fireplace was an ornately framed oil painting of Geoff Craig in uniform. Hut the uniform was fatigues, on which was sewn the single stripe of a PFC. And it looked as if he had been wearing the fatigues and gone without a shave for a week.

"I love the portrait," Jack said.

"So do I," Geoff said, handing him a drink. "But it thrills neither of the ladies."

"I think it's awful," Ursula said. She went to the bar, pulled the cork from a bottle of wine, and poured glasses for herself and Marjorie.

"It's our very first military heirloom," Geoff said. "Something I shall treasure for the rest of my life. It was painted from a photo Ursula took of me at Fort Bragg-by one of the very finest artists plying his trade on the sidewalk before the cathedral- in Jackson Square in New Orleans."

"I thought I recognized the technique," Jack said. "The subtle brushstrokes, the je ne sais-quois of the gentle pastels."

Geoff laughed and Jack saw Marjorie smile.

"It's awful," Ursula repeated, but she was smiling.

Ursula is always saying-she and her brother, who is in the Army because he wants to be-that I should try to act more like an officer, to adhere to the customs of the service."

"You don't want to be in the Army?"

"I didn't," Geoff said. "I seriously considered protesting American foreign policy from Stockholm when I got my draft notice. But now it seems to; be growing on me. At the moment I'm here because I was foolish enough to take a commission and now I can't resign. Watch yourself, Jack Portet, or you'll start hearing their goddamned trumpets." Their eyes met for a moment and Jack, realized that despite the joking tone of voice, Geoff Craig had just confided in him. "I was talking about the customs of the service," Geoff went on. "Over the Bellmon mantel there hangs a similar portrait. The General as a second lieutenant. So I figured, what the hell, if it's good enough for the Generul, it's good enough for me. And I had it painted."

"Oh, Geoff!" Marjorie said.

Geoff looked between them.

"I can see by the pissed-off look on her face, and the confusion on yours," he said, "that until just now you didn't know her daddy was a general-the General-did you?" Jack looked at Marjorie and shook his head no.

"Scare you off?" Geoff said. "That really wasn't my intention. "

"No," Jack said. "That doesn't scare me off. I don't think anything's going to be able to scare me off."

"Wow!" Geoff said. "I feel that I am in the Garden of Eden, and Jack has just pulled the apple off the tree. And the way Marjorie's looking at him, a little piece of fruit seems to bee just what the doctor ordered. "

"Goddamn you, Geoff!" Marjorie said.

"She's blushing," Geoff said undaunted. "There's not many girls can do that these days."

"No," Jack Portet said thoughtfully. "That's true."

"Marjorie told me that you were an airline pilot," Ursula said quickly."

"She said," Geoff said, "quickly changing the subject."

"Before Marjorie throws something at you or slaps your face," Ursula said.

"I was, but it was a six-airplane airline. The pride of our-fleet are Curtiss C-46s older than I am."

"But you have an ATR?" Geoff asked. When Jack nodded, he went on: "Then I suppose you're qualified to help somebody prepare for an instrument ticket exam in a light twin? Specifically, in a Beech Twin-Bonanza?"

"I suppose so," Jack said. "But the Army just made me a crew chief on a Gooney-Bird. They've made it pretty plain they don't want me flying their airplanes."

"I'm in advanced chopper school," Geoff said. "I'm also learning to fly twin-engine fixed wings-on my own, I mean."

"They let you do that?"

"Well, I'm going to present them with an FAA certificate and see what happens," Geoff said.

"I've got FAA certificates," Jack said. "They don't seem to be worth much to the Army."

"That's because you're an ignorant, uncouth enlisted man."