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surprise. The dining room was behind them now; where were they going? Stef gave him a wink.
At the end of the hallway was the wine cellar, a small room closed away behind an iron gate in which a
single table had been set for dinner. The hostess opened the wrought-iron door and seated them inside.
A white tablecloth, green napkins, and silver and china seemed to glow in soft candlelight amid the racks
of wines surrounding them.
How did you manage this? Ross asked in genuine amazement as the hostess left them alone.
Stef tossed back her hair, reached for his hand, and said, I told them it was far you.
He had been back from Wales far almost a month when he met her. He had returned defeated in spirit
and bereft of hope. He had failed in his effort to speak with the Lady or return the staff of power. His
parents were dead, and his childhood home sold. He had lost contact with his few relatives years earlier.
He had nowhere to go and no one to go to. For lack of a better idea, he went up from New fork to
Boston College, where he had studied years earlier, and began auditing classes while he worked out his
future. He was offered a position in the graduate-studies program in English literature, but he asked far
time to think about it, uncertain if he wanted to go back into academia. What he really wanted was to do
something that would allow him to make a difference in people s lives, to take a job working with people
he could help. He needed human contact again. He needed validation of his existence. He worked hard
at thinking of himself as something other than a Knight of the Word. He struggled bravely to develop a
new identity.
Each day he would take his lunch in the student cafeteria, sitting at a long table, poring through his study
books and staring out the windows of the dining hall. It was winter, and snow lay thick and white on the
ground, ice hung from the eaves, and breath clouded in the air like smoke. Christmas was approaching,
and he had nowhere to spend it and no one to spend it with. He felt incredibly lonely and adrift.
That was when he first saw Stefanie Winslow. It was early December, only days before the Christmas
break. He wasn t sure if she had been coming there all along and he just hadn t noticed her or if she had
suddenly appeared. Once he saw her though, he couldn t look away. She was easily the most beautiful
woman he had eves seen -.exotic, stunning, and unforgettable. He couldn t find words to give voice to
what he was feeling. He watched her all through the lunch hour and stayed afterward when he should
have been auditing his class, continuing to stare at her until she got up and walked away.
The next day she was back, sitting at the same table, off to one side, all alone. He watched her come in
and sit down to have her lunch for five days, thinking each time that he had to go over to her and say
something, had to introduce himself, had to make some sort of contact, but he always ended up just
sitting there. He was intimidated by her. But he was compelled, as well. No one else tried to sit with her;
no one else even tried to approach. That gave him pause. But his connection with her was so strong, so
visceral, that he could not ignore it.
Finally, at the beginning of the following week, he Just got up and walked aver, limped over really,
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feeling stupid and inadequate with his heavy staff and rough look, and said hello. She smiled up at him as
if he were the most important thing in her life, and said hello back. He told her his name, she told him
hers.
I ve been watching you far several days, he said, giving her a deprecatory shrug.
I know. she said, arching one eyebrow speculatively.
He flushed. I guess I overdid it if I was that obvious, I was wondering if you were a student at the
college.
She shook her head, her black hair catching the winter light. No, I work in administration.
Oh. Well, I m auditing some classes He let the wards trail away. He didn t know where else to go with
it. He felt suddenly awkward about what he was doing. sitting here with her. He glanced around. I didn t
mean to intrude, I just..
John, she interrupted gently, drawing his eyes back to hers, holding them.
Do you know why I ve been sitting here alone every day?
He shook his head slowly.
Because, she said, drawing out the word, I ve been waiting for you to join me.
She always knew the right thing to say. He had been in love with her from the beginning, and his feelings
had just grown stronger over time. He sat watching her now as she gave their order to the waiter, a
young man with long sideburns and a Vandyke beard, holding his attention with her eyes, with her voice,
with her very presence. The waiter wouldn t look away if a bomb went off, Ross thought. When he left
with the order, the wine steward, who had been by earlier, reappeared with the bottle of Pinot Grigio
Stef had ordered. He poured it for Ross to taste, but Ross Indicated Stef was in charge. She tasted it,
nodded, and the wine steward filed their glasses and disappeared.
They sat close within the dim circle of candlelight and stared at each other without speaking. Silently
Ross hoisted his glass. She responded in kind, they clinked crystal softly, and drank.
Is this some sort of special occasion? he asked finally. Did I forget an important date?
You did, she advised solemnly.
And you won t tell me what it is, will you?
As a matter of fact, I will. But only because I don t want to see how long it takes you to remember.
She cocked her head slightly in his direction. It was one year ago today, exactly, that Simon Lawrence
hired you to work at Fresh Start.
you re kidding.
I don t kid. Josh, yes. Tease, now and then. Never kid. She nook a sip of her wine and licked her lips.
Cause for celebration, don t you think? Who would have thought you would end up writing speeches
for the Wizard of Oz?
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Ross shook his head. Who, would have thought 1 would have ended up living with Glinda the Good?
Stef arched her eyebrows in mock horror. Glinda the Good? Wasn t she a witch? A good witch.
That s why she was called Glinda the Good.
Stef gave him a considering look. John, I love you deeply, madly, truly. But don t call me Glinda the
Good. Don t call me anything that smacks of the Wizard of Oz or the Emerald City or Munchkins or
Dorothy or the yellow brick road. I get quite enough of that at work. Our life is separate and distinct
from all this Wiz business.
He leaned back, looking hurt. But it s the date of my hiring. Isn t the analogy appropriate under those
circumstances?
The waiter returned with their salads, and they began to ear. The sounds of the main dining room
seemed distant and disconnected from their little haven. Ross thought about all the years he had dreaded
night s coming and sleep, plagued by the knowledge that when he slept he was condemned to dream of
the future he must prevent and of the horror he must live if he failed. Once, he had thought he would
never escape that life, and that even if he did, its memories would haunt hire forever. Stefanie had saved
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