Winter Snow in New York

 Arthur and Marilyn left their Brooklyn townhouse around ten that cold Thursday morning. The plan was to have a leisurely drive to the old country inn that Arthur had found for them for a long weekend. He'd taken great pains with the plans for their weekend.

Marilyn wasn't really concerned about the details; he had said that he would handle them, and she had been so stressed and exhausted lately that she didn't really ask him all that much about anything. She was just glad that he was. All of the necessary recent secrecy had taken its toll on her.

Marilyn had dressed warmly, in black slacks and a fuzzy black sweater, her figure encased in a white fur. A black leather purse strap hung loosely from her left shoulder. She'd insisted on bringing Blackjack, her Jack Russell terrier, with her for the trip, and she was carrying him in her arms.

She breathed a sigh of relief that no reporters were waiting outside when they came outside. It always seemed that they had an inside track to their plans.

Arthur helped her into the car, and then

walked to the driver's side. All of the things that they were taking with them from here were already in the car. Arthur had made arrangements for anything else that they might want or need to be at the inn upon their arrival.

At first neither of the pair spoke. Arthur simply drove, and Marilyn petted Blackjack. But it wasn't a stilted silence; it was rather a companionable one.

Marilyn opened a book for poetry and began reading. After awhile,

Arthur asked her to light him a cigarette, and she did. He wrapped his right arm around her, as she slid it between his lips.

Marilyn snuggled closer, and laid her head on his shoulder. Blackjack had taken it upon himself to hop into the back seat of the car, and was curled up for a nap.

She had her hand on the knob of the radio to turn some music on, but thought better of it. While music was welcome, news reports might not be.

About halfway into their trip, Marilyn was just about to ask Arthur if they could stop so that she could go to the bathroom, when he made a left turn, off the main road.

"Where are we going?", she asked.

"Wait and see.", he replied. The hint of a smile curved his lips.

"Is there a bathroom where we are going?", she asked.

He laughed lightly. "I imagine that there is."

A few minutes later, he parked their car under huge shade trees.

To Marilyn, it looked like a forest. It was only when they got out of the car (Blackjack was on his burnished leather leash), that she saw an old farmhouse. As they approached, she saw restaurant sign, and her face brightened.

"Lunch?", she asked hopefully. "I'm starving."

Nevermind the bathroom, right this minute.

Brief amusement crossed her husband's face, but he nodded.

"I thought you might enjoy it."

Marilyn hurried to the bathroom as soon as they were inside, and then they were shown to their table, near the fireplace.

She slid the fur off her shoulders in the chair that she was seated in, and Blackjack curled up at her feet. She'd insisted on water and a blanket for him. Of course, he could share something from lunch.

Arthur teased Marilyn lightly about something or other, and she laughed that impossibly feminine laugh of hers, which never failed to entrance him.

Lunch was salade nicoise, a loaf of crusty, golden French bread with herbed butter, and a bottle of French Chardonnay. Dessert was creme brulee.

"It's just wonderful here!", Marilyn said softly. "Thank you. "

Arthur smiled. "I am pleased that you liked it. ". His eyes lingered on his beautiful wife for a few moments, and then he asked, "Are you ready to leave now?"

"Almost." She flushed light pink. "I need to visit the bathroom again."

She added. "It's a girl thing."

Arthur smiled. "Don't I know it." He hesitated for a minute, then added, "I like it."

"Really??", she asked breathlessly. Her eyes met his.

"Really.", he assured her, and clasped her hands in his, then kissed them.

Once they were back in the car with Blackjack, and on their way, Marilyn fell asleep. For whatever reason, Arthur found it oddly pleasing to watch her sleep. He found it hard to keep his mind on driving.

Once they'd arrived at the inn where they were staying, Arthur laid a hand over on his wife, to awaken her.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep. Guess I was really tired.", she said, as she stretched a little.

Her eyes widened a little when she saw the inn that they were to stay at for the weekend. "It's perfect.", she said softly.

Just as they were out of the car, and the door of the old inn, soft snow began to fall. Marilyn giggled happily as it fell on her face.