Chadds Creek was an old mining town. In the early 1800s, gold had been discovered along the banks of the river, but it had been a small strike of little consequence and the town had slowly died out. In the mid 1960s, George Malcolm McHenry - a man who had lots of money and even more spare time - decided to build himself a winter home near the old town, complete with a ski lift. When McHenry died, his son, George, Jr., turned the house into a ski lodge and Chadds Creek became an exclusive playground for the very rich and the very famous.

With the increase in tourists, the town's original buildings had been restored to give people a taste of the past, while new businesses - mostly fashionable boutiques - had sprung up like mushrooms near the ski lodge. Lainey preferred the old part of town.

Leaving the car behind Nell's Ice Cream Parlor, Micah and Lainey walked down the narrow alley that led to the main street. Now, during the summer, the ski lifts and a lot of the boutiques were closed, but the old section of town drew enough tourists to keep the place alive throughout the year. She saw several cars with out-of-state license plates as they crossed the dusty street and walked down the wooden sidewalk to a pay phone located on the corner.

Micah had shed his own form and taken on his alter ego when they left the cabin and now, walking down the street, women old and young alike turned to stare at him. She could only imagine the long, lingering looks he'd get in his natural form, which she thought was every bit as sexy and gorgeous as this one.

Lainey laughed when a girl of about ten pointed at Micah and loudly exclaimed, "Mom, that man looks just like Fabio!"

Micah leaned one shoulder against the door of the old-fashioned phone booth while Lainey placed her call. He grinned at the pained expression on Lainey's face as she explained to her mother that everything was all right, that Micah was with her, that she wasn't sure when they would be back, that she was sorry she had left home without telling anyone.

"Mom! Mom, would you please just listen for a minute? I've got something to tell you." Lainey glanced at Micah and smiled. "Mom, guess what? Micah asked me to marry him. No, I'm not kidding... Well, we haven't set a date yet... we'll probably go to Vegas..." She looked at Micah and rolled her eyes. "I've already had one big church wedding, Mom, I don't need another one... yes, we'll talk more about it when I get home. Give my love to Dad. Bye."

Lainey hung up the phone, then shook her head. "Well, I'm glad that's over. Let's go get something to eat."

Hand in hand, they walked down the street to Kattle Katy's Kitchen. It was a building unlike anything Micah had ever seen. The furniture was rough-hewn; the tables were covered with red-and-white checked cloths. There were animal heads mounted on one wall and posters with desperate-looking men on another. The woman behind the counter wore a blue gingham dress and a frilly white apron.

Micah stared at the animal heads while Lainey ordered a couple of cheeseburgers with the works, a double order of ranch fries, and two chocolate shakes. He had developed quite a taste for meat since coming to Earth.

"You're awfully quiet," Lainey observed as they took a seat at a booth near a window. "Is something wrong?"

"A big church wedding," Micah said. "What is that?"

Lainey made a vague gesture with her hand. "A wedding is when people get married. Sometimes you invite a lot of friends and family and have a big party. That's a big wedding. And sometimes people go away and get married quietly. That's what we'll do."

"You don't want a big church wedding again?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I already went that route with Drew and it didn't work out. I guess maybe I'm a little superstitious."

"Superstitious?"

"Afraid that if I go through all that again with you, something might go wrong."

Micah nodded. "What is Vegas?"

"It's a place where you can get married without any blood tests."

Micah frowned, remembering Red Hair and Mac and fat syringes filled with blood.

"Most places require blood tests before you can get married to be sure you don't have any diseases, but in your case, I don't think that's a good idea."

Understanding dawned in Micah's eyes. Of course, he could not let anyone test his blood. The color alone would cause any number of questions that could not be answered.

"But, Lainey, will you be happy going to this Vegas place to be married?"

Lainey smiled. "I'll love it," she said, folding her hand over his. "And I love you."

He started to reply, but the waitress chose that moment to bring their order. She stared at Micah for a moment, her eyes wide. "You aren't... I mean, are you... ?"

"No," Lainey replied. "He isn't."

"Well, a girl can hope," the waitress retorted, and walked away, her skirts swishing.

"Would you like to go sightseeing after we eat?" Lainey asked. "There's a blacksmith shop, an old newspaper office, an assay office..." She frowned, trying to remember what other buildings remained. "Oh, a jail, of course, and a brothel..."

"Brothel?"

Lainey shrugged. "You know, a house of ill repute? Whore house? Prostitutes?" She shook her head when she saw he still didn't understand. "A place where men could pay to have sex."

"Ah," Micah said.

"Do they have such places on Xanthia?"

"No, but there are planets where such things are common."

"Really?"

"The urge to mate is strong throughout all the known galaxies," he remarked with an exaggerated leer. "My own urge has grown steadily stronger since I met you."

Lainey felt herself blush from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair as the waitress chose that moment to stop by and see if they needed anything else.

"We're fine," Lainey stammered. "Just bring the check, please."

"You're very pretty when your cheeks turn pink," Micah said as they left the restaurant.

"I'm glad you think so, since I seem to blush frequently since I met you."

They spent the next two hours touring the town, looking at old butter churns, and flat irons that weighed a ton, and huge black kettles. They saw old fire engines and pot-bellied stoves, cast-iron wash tubs and outdoor pumps, high-button shoes and whalebone corsets.

"I wish I'd brought my camera," Lainey said as they walked through the old jail. "I can't believe I left it home. I take it everywhere."

Micah grimaced as he peered into one of the iron-barred cells. It took very little to imagine what it must have been like to be locked up in such a dreary place. All too clearly, he recalled being imprisoned on Einar Three, and, more recently, being strapped to a cold metal table, his freedom gone, his life in the hands of his enemies.

Leaving the jail, Lainey dragged Micah intoWilson 's Western Emporium and insisted he try on a cowboy hat. Most men looked great in cowboy hats, and Micah was no exception. Lainey insisted on buying him one, choosing a black Stetson with a rolled brim.

"No, Lainey," Micah said, removing the hat. "You've done enough for me already."

"What do you mean?"

"You buy my food. You bought me clothes. I live in your house. It is enough."

"But you need a souvenir," she argued. "Besides, it looks great on you."

"No."

Lainey grimaced. Apparently male pride wasn't a trait unique to Earth men. "I want you to have it, Micah. Please? It isn't polite to refuse a gift."

"But I cannot buy you anything," Micah said quietly.

"You pick something out, and I'll buy it."

"It is not the same."

"Well, then, I'll lend you some money until you get a job, and then you can pay me back."

Micah considered that for a moment, and then he nodded. He disliked taking money from Lainey, but he wanted to give her something - wanted her to have something tangible to remember him by in case he had to leave her.

While Lainey tried on boots, he wandered through the store, browsing through shelves of mugs and glassware embossed with the name of the town, T-shirts, scarfs and belts. He paused at a counter featuring an array of jewelry and watches before deciding on a heart-shaped bracelet made of turquoise and silver.

He paid for the bracelet, then stood near the door, waiting for Lainey while she purchased a pair of white cowboy boots.

Outside, he handed her the small sack, his gaze intent upon her face as she opened it.

"Oh, Micah, it's beautiful. I love it." Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Micah touched the brim of his hat with his forefinger, and then kissed Lainey on the cheek. "Thank you."

On the way back to the car, Lainey speculated on what it must have been like to have been a woman back in the old days, before microwave ovens, refrigerators, washers and dryers, no-wax floors, and polyester had come along and taken the drudgery out of being a housewife.

With a grin that was slightly smug, Micah informed her that on Xanthia microwaves and all the other things she thought of as modern conveniences were as old-fashioned as washboards and butter churns.

"Well, we'll catch up," she replied confidently. "Maybe you can introduce some of the wonders of Xanthia to our backward culture while you're here."

"Maybe," he said doubtfully.

"Why not?" Lainey asked, growing excited by the idea. "The women of Earth would probably make you a saint if you invented that thing you told me about that does all the cooking. Think of the hours in the kitchen it would save at Thanksgiving and Christmas. A complete dinner at the push of a button. Why, you could make a fortune. You know, a lot of money."

Lainey frowned as she unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. "I don't suppose they have money on Xanthia, do they?"

Removing his hat, Micah got into the car. "No." He looked at Lainey thoughtfully as he put his Stetson on the back seat, then shut the door. "Would you like to have a fortune?"

"I don't know." She pulled onto the highway, her brow furrowed in thought.

She'd never really wanted to be rich. Her father had always provided her and her mother with a comfortable living, and when she got out on her own, she discovered she could make a decent living as an author. Still, it might be nice to drive a low-slung sports car and shop inBeverly Hills .

"Is money important to you?" Micah asked.

"Not really. I guess I'd rather be happy and healthy." She glanced at Micah. "And in love with you."

Heat sizzled through her as Micah placed his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze.

Suddenly eager to be home where they could be alone, she pressed down on the accelerator, thinking she'd be happy to wash clothes in an old-fashioned washtub as long as they were Micah's clothes.