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it gets too dark.”
    Susan held up her hand, finished off one last sequence of sneezes, then said, “What about your nap?”
    “What do you think contemplative fishing ?”
    is
    “Oh. Right. Get Leo to take you, then. He knows all the best places.”
    “I’d be honored,” Leo said.
    We left Susan scrubbing her face. Pausing only to pick up poles in the hallway, we set off in silence along the footpath down to Loch Moose. When we got to the first parting of the path, I broke the silence. “Which way to your favorite spot?”
    He pointed to the right fork. I’d figured as much. “Mine’s to the left,” I said and headed out that way. If Susan didn’t want me in my usual haunts, I wanted to know why. Leo followed without comment, so I knew he was thinking the same thing.
    “Keep your ears open. I heard something before Susan started her ‘sneezing fit’
    to cover it.”
    We came to another parting in the path. I angled right and again he followed.
    Pretty soon we were skidding and picking our way down the incline that led to the otters’
    playground.
    When we got to surer footing, Leo paused. “Annie—now that I’ve got somebody to ask: will you satisfy my curiosity?”
    That peaked mine. “About what?”
    “Was there such a thing as the Loch Ness monster? I always thought my mother had made it up.”
    I laughed. “And I thought my granddaddy had, especially since he claimed that people came to Loch Ness from all over the Earth hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster! I looked it up once in ships’ records. There really was such a place and people really did come from everywhere for a look!”
    He was as taken aback as I’d been, then he heard what I hadn’t said. “And the monster—was real? Did it look like any of the stories?”
    it
    “I never found out.”
    “Pre-photograph?”
    “No,” I said, “that was the odd thing about it. There were some fuzzy photos—old flat ones, from a period when everybody had photographic equipment—that might have been photos of anything. The story was that Nessie was very shy and the loch was too full of peat to get sonograms. Lots of excuses, no results.”
    “Smoking too much weed, eh?”

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    “Lot of that going around,” I said. “But no, I suspect Nessie was exactly what granddaddy used her for—a story. What’s always fascinated me is that people went to look
    !”
    Quite unexpectedly, Leo chuckled. “You underestimate the average curiosity. I don’t think you appreciate how many people stayed glued to their TVs while you folks rounded up those kangaroo rexes. A little thrill is high entertainment.”
    “The hell it is,” I said indignantly. “I oughta know: I do it for a living.
    They didn’t get their boots chewed off by the damn things.”
    “Exactly my point,” said Leo. “Scary but safe. Elly’s kids would be the first to tell you what a good combination that is. They watch their kangaroo rex tape about twice a week, and cheer for you every time.”
    Some things I was better off not knowing, I thought. I sighed. Turning away from Leo, I got the full view of Loch Moose and its surroundings, which drew a second sigh—this time pure content.
    The secret of its appeal was that despite the vast sparkle of sunlight that glittered off it, Loch Moose always felt hidden away—a place you and you alone were aware of.
    It took me a while to remember that Leo was beside me. No, I take that back. I was aware that he was there all along, but he was as content as I to simply drink it all in without a word.
    Sometime—when we were both done admiring the scene—we headed for the boats, by some sort of mutual agreement. I was liking Leo more and more. For another thing, the whistling of the otters made him smile.
    The slope down to the boats was dotted with violets. Most of them were that almost fiery shade of blue that practically defines the species, but once in a while they came out white just for the surprise of it. Some were more