Wolf’s eyes. That was the way Jake’s freshman roommate had described Kathy, “The girl with the wolf’s eyes,” and the description was never more applicable than now, with her green eyes shining through the window of the kitchen door. A moment later she was inside, pushing past him, talking a blue streak.
“What kind of cookies does Mrs. Miller have?” she said as she opened the cabinet door and grabbed the canister. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“I wasn’t until you called.”
“It’s your fault that I couldn’t sleep. Are these raisin filled, or apricot?” She bit into one and closed her eyes. “Raisin! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, or better yet bring me some. These are my favorite.” She frowned. “Except maybe the lemon ones. Or those pecan squares.” She took another bite and, mouth full, asked, “How do you live here and not weigh four hundred pounds?”
“I don’t eat the cookies.”
“Yeah, well, more for me.” She looked him up and down, taking in his plain blue gym shorts and t-shirt. “Is that what you sleep in? Boring. At least you should have something on your shirt, a rock band or the Steelers or something.”
“I’m more of a Pens and Pirates guy, but those logos are scratchy. Anyway, nobody sees me at night. And you’re one to talk. What are those, flannel jammies?”
She looked down at herself. “Merino wool, I’ll have you know. It’s all the rage for women of a certain age because it’s temperature regulating.” She plucked at her shirt. “A little thin and clingy for going out in public, maybe, but you’re hardly public.” She crossed to a different cabinet, took out a glass, and then went to the refrigerator for a pitcher of milk. With another little moan, eyes closed, she said, “Whole milk! I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. Tim’s cholesterol is borderline, so we only buy skim. It’s blue.”
“I assume you want to follow up on today’s briefing,” he said.
The wolf’s eyes flew open. “Duh! Big surprise, you wait two months after I’m sworn in, and then schedule a fifteen minute meeting to tell me there’s a challenge to the United States Constitution lurking in my county and ask me to ignore it.”
“Your clerk would only give me fifteen minutes,” he said.
“Well, maybe you should have told him more than, ‘a quick greeting from an old friend.’”
“Sorry about that, but the whole point is that they want to stay off the radar. Everybody’s radar.”
“So why tell me at all?” She carried the milk and cookies to the table and sat down. “No, I guess I get that: Because sooner or later something tangentially related is likely to come before my court.”
He sat across from her. “Yeah. Although they haven’t for the last decade or so. It used to happen more often. Better you know up front.”