"Be still," Vickie replied. "I don't want to nick you."We watched as Vickie slowly slid the razor over her skin, removing the shaving cream along with...her blond tufts."Grandmother and I both know that we can never marry you," Nicky said, resuming her previous explanation, "and yet, we both feel that close to you. I mean close enough to marry you. She told me that when she's with you, you know ... making love, that she thinks of you as Phil. I hadn't thought of it, but I guess it's what she. But it was now noon and the pub tables were starting to fill for the lunchtime rush. A bottle of Red Zinfandel appeared on the table beside her glass, a tall glass of clear liquid was placed on the table across from it. The man who had brought the drinks slid between her table and the next and took the seat facing her. Gently placing a soft brown leather briefcase, which he had just unslung from his shoulder, on the table. He looked across at her as if appraising her. "You are prettier than in. More

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