It is almost two years on from the first joint birthday party of Trey and Sarah. Trey had completed his fourth year and got his degree with flying colors. In fact, everyone, including his fellow students, had chosen him as the top student in their fourth year class. The university, under Dean Stevenson, now confirmed as Dean and no longer the Acting one, had given Trey a Teaching Assistant status so that he could teach while doing a PhD. His thesis was to be 'The Mathematical Consequences of Colliding Black Holes.'
His life with Sarah had continued much the same, with a busy sex life that incorporated the so-called twins, Sue and Jan, Trey's friend from his class, Mark, together with Marjorie and George, Belinda and her husband Greg, and, of course, Liz, the Art Professor who was developing a real attraction to Mark.
It was approaching Easter of Sarah's third teaching year, the first where she had Trey as an assistant and not as a student, when she started to complain of headaches. Sarah was experiencing permanent headaches, balance and vision issues, and by Mid-May she was referred to a specialist. The specialist called Sarah and Trey in after running a whole slew of tests. When they entered the specialist's office and looked at her, they knew it was not good news.
"Put succinctly, you have a tumor that is too far gone to operate on, and it is cancerous. I am afraid you only have a few weeks to live. I am so sorry."
She looked at Trey and said, "It seems only yesterday, I gave your father the same diagnosis, not long before his car accident."
Trey sat there shocked, motionless, almost emotionless. His father's car accident had involved him losing control on a wet, greasy road, where mud had washed on to the road from a steep bank. Now he was wondering if it was really an accident. Given his diagnosis, had his father arranged to die when he chose to? He had never considered this as a possibility before. He had always been curious about the accident because his father was an excellent driver. But, suicide? And now, Sarah was soon to die?
Sarah, for her part, was determined to be as normal as possible for her last few weeks, if indeed it were that long. She had no assets to talk of, as they were living in what was Trey's inherited house, and all her money was invested in both their names, so there wasn't much paperwork to do. A visit to a lawyer set that ball in motion, and a final will was signed.
Two weeks later she was in palliative care, and two weeks after that, with Trey and Marjorie there, she quietly passed away. It was the middle of June. Sarah was not yet 61. Trey had given the last few classes of each of the four years for which there were currently students.
The funeral was at the university in the chapel where Dean Henry had had his funeral. There was a good turn out and a very subdued wake in the Dean's quarters afterwards. Trey turned down all offers for company after the wake.
The house seemed so dead and quiet with her gone. No point in making martinis for one or doing much cooking. He sold Sarah's car through the paper to someone he didn't know, to minimize the chance of seeing it again. Even Jeopardy! lost its attraction.
Trey took himself off to the cottage, after clearing all the legal stuff with the lawyer, and getting Marjorie to remove Sarah's clothes. Her very personal things - her toys - he put in Sarah's night table. Maybe one day there would be another lover with whom he could enjoy them, but not yet.
In mid-July, he received a letter from George Stevenson, the Dean, which, after offering condolences, asked if Trey was up to teaching the course his father and aunt had taught, as there were three years of students in the pipeline who were entitled to complete their degrees, and a new batch about to come in. If Trey felt up to stepping in, at least for a year, that would give the university ample time to seek another person as a replacement. At the end of a year, if he wanted it, Trey would be given first refusal on the position, subject to his work being of the standard the Dean was sure Trey would attain.
Trey promised a response by early August. And so, he was at the cottage alone enjoying the peace and quiet. If he couldn't be with Sarah, he was determined to be happy on his own. He rebuffed Jan and Sue's offers to come up. The only person he did see was Marjorie on the occasions she came up to the other cabin on her own. It was a reprise of how he had handled the death of his father.
Given it was at these two cottages that he and Sarah had met, it was inevitable that he would think about those happy days - so recent and yet also so far in the past. It was July 31st, six weeks after the funeral, and three days before his 27th birthday, when Marjorie phoned him in the morning. "Could you accommodate an extra one for dinner this evening?" He'd shared a couple of meals with Marjorie since Sarah had died, and she had been quietly considerate, coaxing him into some laughter and surfacing some pleasant memories. They had steered clear of any physical connections.
"Sure, say around 7?"
"That will work. Thank you. Bye" He had to admit, he was ready for some company, and, having lost her own husband, Dean Henry, Marjorie was an understanding guest.
Trey made a fresh batch of marinade for the steaks from scratch, washed and cut up some Yukon Gold small potatoes, putting them in a foil dish with fresh onions and some Chinese 5-Spice and butter, and, late in the afternoon, prepared a spinach and red pepper salad. The BBQ was on out on the deck already lit and set to low, and he was just laying the table, when there was a knock on the door at about 6:45. Strange, he thought - Marjorie is never early.
He strode over and pulled open the door, about to say "Good evening Marjorie." He got out the "Good evening" when he realized this was not Marjorie. It most certainly was not Marjorie.
Standing there was a tall woman, almost as tall as him. She was wearing a white blouse and white trousers, with white sneakers, and a bright blue blazer-style jacket. Her hair was jet black and shoulder length, with a gentle wave in it. Her skin was very dark brown, with the incredible sheen that some colored people have that makes them look super alive, almost glowing. Her teeth were brilliant white as she smiled from a full-lipped mouth, and the whites of her eyes really stood out against the fantastic dark brown cheek bones.
But the most incredible part of the view was her curves. She had a full but not sagging bust, a trim waist, and clearly defined hips. Her legs were long and, given the lack of surplus material in the trousers, he could tell they were extremely shapely. Trey's first reaction was that she must be about 40.
Trey must have been struck silent for at least 15 seconds. It felt longer. The gorgeous woman just laughed. Gathering his senses, he just said "I was expecting someone else. Marjorie."
In a wonderful warm voice with an English accent, the woman said "I know. I am part of Marjorie's plot to coax you back into civilized society, apparently. I come bearing gifts, one white and already chilled, one red. My name is Shauna. Shauna Standish. I came a bit early in the hope I would catch you before you started cooking, so that we could have an ice-breaker drink before dinner."
"Well, of course, come on in. Everything is ready to cook, and the BBQ on turned low, so nothing's to spoil while we say hello."
He stepped back from the doorway and gestured for Shauna to come in, taking her wine bag from her. Looking in, he said "A nice Canadian Pinot Gris, well-chilled, and my favorite Malbec from Argentina. Obviously Marjorie guided your wine choices."
"Indeed, and she said you would have more of the red if we needed it."
