“Good morning, George.” “Wake you?” “I was half awake. Now I’m all the way there.” “Lovely evening.” “Yes, it was. I hope two consecutive nights in a sushi restaurant won’t permanently upset your digestive tract.”. “Not at all. The tempura was as good second time around as it was first. Ready for our stroll?” “What stroll?” “Across the bridge. Splendid day for it.” “Across the bridge? The Golden Gate?” “Yes.” “I thought you were joking when you suggested it last night.” “Hardly. I’ve never done it. You have. And I would welcome your expertise, as well as your companionship.” “George, I don’t think I can—” “You know, Jessica, when you fall off a bicycle, it’s best to get right back on.” I laughed. “I’m well aware of that sage advice, George. But falling off a bike, and falling off the Golden Gate Bridge, are two very different things. A scraped knee from one. A watery death from the other.” “I promise that the worst thing will happen to you is a scraped knee.
