Page 115 of Flirting with Forever

“It’s damned decent of you to do this for him. I’m pretty sure I can convince the Guild to take the offer.”

“Really?”

“I’m afraid you put a scare in them. An unregulated time tube is a very dangerous thing.”

“I don’t suppose there’ll be an artist’s life in my afterlife—or success in any profession, I’m betting.”

“No, you’d better grab whatever joy you can now. Though,” he added with a grave face, “you never know what can change. That’s why life is so interesting. You may do something so good or so helpful that it makes everyone up there forget you were ever a burr in their side.”

“Me, the writer of hot fictography, or me, the naked model spread out like some lascivious Artforum centerfold?”

He chuckled, and she decided the sight of Mertons laughing was not one to be missed.

“You know,” he said, “being entertained brings people immense happiness. Don’t underestimate the redemptive power of being able to entertain others.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Mertons. I won’t.”

“So…” He clapped his hands together. “Where is it? Is it in this room? Is the book here?”

She waved a finger back and forth. “Oh, no, no, no. Promise first. Tube later. I’ve learned how you people work.”

He sighed. “I’ll head out and be back before you know it.”

“Hey, um, take your time? Like, take the long way, maybe with a stopover in the Paleolithic era? I hear they have unbelievable cave art.”

Mertons tucked the notebook into his jacket pocket. “I’ll do my best, Miss Stratford. I can’t put off the Guild forever. Once they agree to this, they’ll want him back. The most you can expect is a few days. I think you had better not plan for more than that.” He gave her a significant look.

She’d always been the type to appreciate each moment, but even with every intention of savoring, was it possible to make the joy one could squeeze out of a few thousand minutes serve for a lifetime?

She thought of what one could gain and lose in the flash of circumstance. She thought of meeting Peter the first time in that hallway. She thought of her brother. She thought of the single, upending instant Peter’s eyes had met hers as she lay on that chaise. She thought of opening that article from Burlington Magazine, and she thought of Peter, buoyed at the notion of becoming a father, then losing the wife, the child, and any reason to keep on living.

“Mertons, wait.”

He turned. “Yes?”

“I want him to be happy.”

“Painting, yes.”

“No, not just painting. I want him to have a wife—someone who’ll love and understand his work—and a child. At least one. He’d be such a good father. Do you think—I mean, it’s not too much to ask the Guild to do that too, is it?”

Mertons’s eyes softened. “It’s not too much to ask. Every man deserves it. I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

Cam wished everyone’s future could be so easily ordered.

* * *

Peter inserted himself into the small group of partygoers surrounding Woodson Ball.

“Howdy, Peter. How goes it?”

“Could I have a word in private? ’Tis a matter of some importance.”

Ball eyed him curiously, then put down his glass.

Fifty-five