Part Thirty

"I had a dream," said Peggy.

"So did I," said Raoul.

"I dreamt that a giant rooster carried off my children."

"What did it look like?"

"It was made of metal, like scrap iron or something, and had big eyes," said Peggy.



She poured herself tea from her Thermos and watched the sky turn from gray to orange over Eagle Harbor.

"Ah, the garden," said Raoul. Over the weekend they had visited several gardens during the annual Bainbridge In Bloom garden tour. Some of the gardens featured whimsical sculptures.

"What kind of sound did the rooster make?"

"A loud metallic crunching sound," she shuddered. "It was terrifying. It had my children by the backs of their shirts and was running across a meadow of yellow wildflowers. The children were screaming for help, but from where I was standing I could gaze at a beautiful view of Puget Sound and the horror of it was that I kept forgetting about the children."

"Then what happened?"

"The rooster ran into a garden of giant artichoke plants and got tangled up in them. The children fell, and Marjorie picked the artichokes and threw them at the rooster. Then I woke up."

The ferry motored past the mouth of the harbor and into the calm waters of the Sound. "Look at the view," said Raoul.

The Cascade Range was etched against a backdrop of pink, purple and orange. In the foreground, Seattle lay sleeping in a swirling mist. Mt. Rainier glowed red to the south.

"Tell me about your dream," said Peggy.

"I dreamt that a dinosaur skeleton escaped from a museum and was terrorizing Poulsbo. The villagers came at it with swords and axes, but the dinosaur simply ate them up. But it was just a skeleton, you see, so it had no stomach. So when the villagers were eaten they simply fell to the ground and then got up and continued fighting."



"That's awful," said Peggy.

"Actually, it was kind of boring after a while."

"We both had garden dreams," said Peggy. "Blame it on Bainbridge In Bloom."

"I wanted to dance with you in the Green Cathedral," said Raoul.

"That was my favorite garden."

"Somebody was playing Cheek to Cheek. Did you hear it?"

"Yes," said Peggy. "I was hoping you to take me in your arms and sweep me across the lawn."

"There were people in the way," said Raoul.

"That's no excuse. It didn't seem to bother those children doing ballroom dancing in the movie we saw." On Friday they had seen a documentary called Mad Hot Ballroom at the Lynwood Theater on Bainbridge Island. It was about school children in New York City who take ballroom dancing as part of the public school curriculum.

"Maybe we should take up dancing," said Raoul.

"Might be fun. We need a hobby that we can do together," said Peggy.

"I thought our hobby was arguing about politics."

"No, that's what we do for a living," said Peggy.

"Enemies by day, lovers by night?"

"There you go dreaming again."

"Wait a minute, wasn't it your idea that we could separate the different parts of our lives and not let them overlap?"

"No, that was your idea. My idea was to recruit you to our organization. Then we don't have to be professional enemies. I discussed it with my boss, by the way."

"And?"

"He doesn't want any prima donna lawyers on the team," said Peggy.

"That's not me."

"He figures you've been pampered by corporate big shots for so long that you probably can't mingle with the common folk."

"How can you say that? Didn't I agree to change my hotel reservation to the Tabard Inn for our trip to Washington?" said Raoul.

"Yes, that was very sweet of you, but it was only after you found out that they serve your favorite single-malt Scotch."

"You know, a person has to unwind after a hard day in the nation's capitol."

"Maybe we should unwind by going dancing. Doesn't that sound wonderful?" said Peggy.

"Wonderful? I believe that's a song. Yes. Ella Fitzgerald. Just the thing for enemies who meet secretly in gardens."

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