by Parnell Hall
“There’s a straight line I’m not gonna touch. So, you’ll do it. Great. If you can get it done before I go for coffee tomorrow, I won’t have to start making up excuses.”
The phone rang.
Sherry scooped it up. Her face hardened. “I told you not to call me.” She hung up.
Cora raised her eyebrows. “Dennis?”
“Yeah.”
“I see why you and Aaron are having troubles.”
“IT’S NOT MY fault he calls me,” Sherry protested.
Aaron Grant sipped his wine. “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m just wondering what can be done.”
“It’s the same thing, Aaron,” Sherry said irritably. “Wondering what can be done implies there’s something I’m not doing.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“That’s what the words mean. If you use the words, you’re stuck with ’em.”
“Words have different meanings.”
“No kidding.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“You didn’t bring it up.”
“Yeah, I did. I asked you how you were.”
“And I told you I’m cranky, and you wanted to know why. Fine. You brought it up, and now you’re sorry. That makes both of us. Can we just have dinner?”
Sherry and Aaron were dining at the Country Kitchen. From the outside, Bakerhaven’s homey, colonial restaurant looked like a large log cabin. The inside featured wood. It also featured a salad bar, which Sherry and Aaron had availed themselves of while they waited for their orders.
“Absolutely,” Aaron said. “As long as we’re both agreed that it’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“Whatever we’re talking about.”
Sherry couldn’t help smiling. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put up with you.”
“I know. So, we’re both agreed it’s neither one of our faults if your ex-husband keeps calling you?”
“We’re agreed it’s your fault if you keep bringing it up.”
“Fair enough.”
Aaron took a bite of salad.
“That’s a lot of blue cheese,” Sherry said.
“I like blue cheese.”
“You like high cholesterol?”
“Can’t get enough.”
“It’ll kill you.”
“No it won’t. I really can’t get enough. My cholesterol is so low, it doesn’t register.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, hyperbole. Is it hyperbole, or just exaggeration?”
“That would depend on whether cholesterol too low to register is a possibility.”
“Well, is it?”
“I have no idea.”
“Anyway, it’s low. Blue cheese can’t hurt me.”
“Did you make that up? Do you even know your cholesterol level?”
“Do you?”
“Know your cholesterol level?”
“No, yours.”
“Yes, I do. And it’s fine, because I don’t eat that.”
“Aren’t you supposed to wait until we’re married before you start to reform me?”
“What makes you think we’re getting married?”
“Haven’t I proposed yet?”
“Only half a dozen times. Have I ever said yes?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What a romantic. No, it’s not the type of thing you’d be apt to remember, is it? Here’s a hint. If I’d ever said yes, Aaron, maybe you’d have stopped asking.”
“Cora thinks we’re getting married.”
“Oh?”
“Treats it like a done deal.”
“I’m not bound by anything my aunt says.”
“And Dennis clearly thinks we are.”
“I thought you weren’t going to bring up Dennis.”
“Only in a good context.”
“A good context?”
“As proof of our intentions.”
“You expect to wear me down with this type of banter?”
“No. It’s obviously not working.” Aaron held up his hands. “Look, it occurs to me the reason you haven’t accepted is I’ve asked you to marry me so many times it’s old hat. It isn’t special. You don’t even have to think about it. You say no as a matter of course.”
“I’m glad you see my point of view.”
“So, I think some sort of dramatic gesture is needed.”
Aaron reached in his pocket, pulled out a plush jeweler’s case. To Sherry’s amazement, he got up from his chair, sank to one knee, opened the case. Inside was a diamond ring.
“Sherry. Will you marry me?”
Sherry Carter’s mouth fell open. Her face turned blazing red.
Heads turned at the sight of the young man obviously proposing marriage. Every eye in the restaurant was on them.
A waitress with a huge tray of food found her way blocked. Her load was clearly heavy, but she wasn’t about to interrupt. She shuffled to a stop, shifted the weight of the tray.
Aaron saw her out of the corner of his eye. He smiled up at Sherry.
“You wanna accept me already? We’re holding up people’s dinner.”
SHERRY CARTER COULDN’T believe it. She’d actually said yes. Was it the ring? Was it the romantic gesture? Was it Aaron making a spectacle of himself? Was it him kneeling in the path of an encumbered waitress, so that unless she accepted four patrons would go without dinner?
Whatever the reason, Sherry had gone against her better judgment, agreed to do the thing that she had sworn she would never do again.
If only her first marriage hadn’t been such a disaster. If Dennis had merely been a bum, a philanderer, a drunk, a drug addict, a freeloader. But, no, he’d had to be a wife beater. A violent, dangerous, manipulative—
Manipulative. That was the worst. That handsome, suave s.o.b. could charm the birds out of the trees, could make a credulous girl believe he could change. If she’d stayed with him a bit less. If she’d left a bit sooner. She wouldn’t have blamed herself then.
She wouldn’t still blame herself now.
Part of the battered-wife syndrome.
The last time he hit her she was pregnant.
She lost the baby.
She left the hospital, never went back to him.
Too late.
It was her fault. She didn’t deserve a second chance.
She’d said yes.
My God, she’d actually said yes.
She’d said yes to Aaron Grant.
Sherry wished he’d come home with her. But he was beeped by the managing editor, sent back to the paper to cover some late-breaking news. As if it mattered. TV would get there first. No way the paper got a scoop.
Sherry scowled at herself.
That’s right. Belittle the man you just accepted. Deprecate yourself by deprecating him.
Make it easier to call the whole thing off.
My God!
She’d really said yes.
A silly grin spread over Sherry’s face.
She’d really said yes.
Sherry took a breath. Hey, snap out of it. Back, to reality. So she said yes. It wasn’t irrevocable. Women say a lot of things in the heat of passion. Not that a salad at the Country Kitchen could be considered passionate. Even so, the guy proposed. So she said yes. She might have meant it. She might not. She might go through with it. She might not. She had all the time in the world to change her mind if that’s what she wanted to do. Right now she needed to calm down, get control, take care of business.
Easier said than done. Sherry’s powers of concentration were minimal at best. Thank goodness she’d finished the Puzzle Lady column, didn’t have that hanging over her head. If she had to construct a crossword puzzle now—
Sherry’s eyes widened.
Oh, hell! Cora. The puzzle for Cora. She’d promised to help. Could she put it off? No, there was some stupid deadline. The young mother had to fess up before the young father realized
she wrecked the car.
That sounded stupid. How could it be?
Oh, right. Inspection. The damage would be discovered during inspection.
Which was tomorrow, so Cora had to have it in the morning.
Ah, hell.
Sherry clicked on the icon, called up Crossword Compiler. Was offered the standard fifteen-by-fifteen grid. Let’s see. Could she get away with anything smaller? Perhaps, but it would be more trouble than it was worth. She was used to 15x15. Anything less and she’d have trouble placing the theme entry.
Which should probably be in rhyme. Let’s see, what was it? Ah, yes, a dented fender. If that wasn’t inspiration. Talk about a muse.
Sorry, dear
I wrecked the car
Had too many
At the bar.
No. Wrong tone. Too many letters. Sounded more like a man than a woman. Aside from that, it was great.
The problem was, there wasn’t much precedent on car-wreck rhymes.
All right, how about a general apology.
Don’t get mad
Punch my eye
I’m so sorry
I could die.
Sherry giggled.
Uh-oh. Not good. She was losing it. Come on. Get serious. What’s wrong with that? Aside from the fact the last line had nine letters.
Get serious. Get this done. If it were a Puzzle Lady puzzle, you’d knock, it off in half an hour.
If it were a Puzzle Lady puzzle, it wouldn’t be that stupid.
Oh, yeah? You just can’t think straight because you’re getting married.
Oh, my God!
Sherry spiraled around a few more times in her head, drove away the demons.
Okay, what’s needed here? A little car-crash poem.
I was out
On a bender
There’s a dent
In the fender.
Come on, you’re getting giddy.
Getting?
Oh, Cora, Cora. If you knew what you’ve done to me.
The phone rang.
Good. If it was Cora, she’d beg off.
If it was Aaron . . .
Well, she wouldn’t beg off. But she’d express her doubts. Not that he wasn’t fully aware of her doubts. But still.
She hoped it was Aaron.
“Hello?”
“Sherry?”
Dennis’s voice went through her like a knife.
Not now!
“You have to stop calling.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. If you call again, I’m telling Brenda.”
“Yeah. Like she doesn’t know.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No. Just determined.”
“Really? When did you leave Brenda?”
There was a silence on the line.
“When did you leave Brenda?” Sherry repeated.
“What’s the difference?”
“You haven’t left Brenda, have you? You’re still living with her. Still working for her father. You’re lucky she hasn’t thrown you out.”
“Get serious.”
“I know. It’s not her nature. Even if I told her about this phone call. Even if she believed me. She’d still find a way to forgive.”
“I didn’t call to talk about Brenda.”
“What a surprise.”
“I heard a rumor.”
“You heard a rumor? What rumor?”
“You’re getting married.”
Sherry’s heart stopped. “Who told you that?”
“Is it true?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“My wife getting married? It certainly is my business. I at least have a right to know.”
“Ex-wife. And if I get married, I’ll tell you.”
“I’d like to know before you do it.”
“Your wishes don’t control me anymore.”
Sherry bit her lip as she said that. It implied that once they did.
“Damn it, did you accept a marriage proposal tonight? Yes or no?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Yes or no?”
Sherry hung up the phone.
That was freaky. Aaron proposes over dinner. Two hours later Dennis knows.
Was he spying on them? Peeking through the window? Was he there at the Country Kitchen?
How the hell did he know?
Sherry had the creepy feeling she was being watched. Which was ridiculous. No one was watching her now. She was in her office, at the computer. There was no one at the window. The blind was open, but there was a full moon lighting up the empty lawn. Nonetheless, Sherry got up and closed the blind. Felt like a fool.
Sherry needed to call Aaron, ask him to come over, even though he had to work. That would be a fine start to the relationship, all clingy the moment he proposed. There was no need. She’d be fine. Put Dennis out of her head. Go on with her life.
Now, what was she doing?
Her eyes lit on the computer screen.
Oh, hell. Cora’s puzzle. There was no way she could deal with it now.
On the bottom shelf of the bookcase was a stack of oversized books too tall to stand. Sherry bent down, pawed through. Sure enough, in a cardboard cover and spiral binding was the collection 100 CROSSWORD PUZZLES FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Sherry remembered it, particularly since the book offered one crossword puzzle for each occasion, as opposed to the hundred the title implied. Sherry dug it out, leafed through.
“My Bad,” by Benny Southstreet, sounded promising.
So, 20 Across: Start of message; 31 Across: Part 2 of message, etc.
Excellent. And that message was . . . ?
Well, 1 Across: “Huh?” would be WHAT; 5 Across: Faultfinder’s find; she’d need to get one of the down clues first. But 10 Across: Hay place would be LOFT.
Sherry shuddered. Bad clue. Obvious and boring. She made a pencil note: Room at the top?
And, good lord, 7 Down: Annina in “Der Rosenkavalier” as a clue for ALTO? Talk about obscure! Specialized knowledge required! Sherry scribbled: Tone of voice?
There. Much better. And—
What the hell was she doing? The answers were on page 118.
Sherry flipped to the back of the book, checked out the solution grid.
So. The theme entry was:
My apology I’ll
Not prolong
I am so sorry
You were wrong
Sherry groaned. A wisecrack, not an apology. Just her luck.
On the other hand . . .
Perhaps, with a few minor changes . . .
Sherry’s fingers flew over the keyboard, typing the puzzle into Crossword Compiler.
My Bad
by Benny Southstreet
ACROSS
52 Part 4 of message
56 Had on
57 Oohed and ___
58 Persia today
62 Et ___ (and others)
63 Bump and ___
64 Only
65 Jerk
66 Roll-on alternative
67 Had a big mouth
DOWN
1 A question of motive
2 Break ground?
3 Docs’ bloc
4 Long essay
5 Baguette or challah
6 Lutzes and Salchows
7 Annina in “Der Rosenkavalier”
8 Manhandle
9 Industrial show
10 Tripoli’s locale
11 Broadcast booth sign
12 Something extra
13 Set for the BBC
21 “What’s ___ problem?”
22 Ring stone
23 “Doonesbury” square
24 Eat away
25 Bandleader Shaw
28 Spacious
29 Small bills
30 Farming prefix
32 Off-Broadway award
33 Baguette or challah
34 Animal behavior expert
35 Mistake
36 U. of Maryland athletes
43 In stitches
44 Unknown John or Jane
46 How “I did it”
47 Mrs. Oop
48 City on the Po
49 Fine-tune
50 Battleground
51 Hot alcoholic drink
53 Poverty metaphor
54 Lawman Wyatt
55 Sound from a fan
59 “Winnie-the-Pooh” baby
60 Part of “snafu”
61 End-of-proof letters
HARVEY BEERBAUM WAS so excited he nearly spilled his double skim mocha latte. “We have a bid! Can you believe it! You already have a bid!”
Though pleased, Cora was somewhat less astounded. After all, that’s why they’d auctioned the damn thing. “Who is it?”
Harvey’s eyes widened. “Why, I have no idea. But he’s bid a hundred dollars.”
“He?”
“Or she. Whoever it is has bid twenty-five dollars a chair.”
“You don’t know who it is?”
“Not yet. When he or she gets the final bid, I’ll find out his or her name.”
“If you say he or she every time, I’ll strangle you.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to wait out here while I get my coffee. Then I’ll be in a much better mood.”
“You don’t want me to go in with you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t stop talking, and I don’t want you spreading this around.”
“I can talk about something else.”
“I can’t. Sit down. Relax. It’s a nice morning.”
