Hungry for Love

by Nancy Frederick

  Annabeth shook her head. “No, thanks. Some water, please.”

  “How about the grilled sirloin for me,” said Doug. “Baked potato. And salad. Tanqueray and tonic.”

  Wanda nodded, scribbling on her pad.

  Patsy leaned over, put her arms around Doug, kissed his cheek, then said, “Such a carnivore! He’ll need all the strength he can get tonight.”

  Doug reached out, took her hand and held it briefly, extracting himself from her public embrace.

  Wanda arrived shortly, placing Doug’s steak in front of him, plates of blackened grouper in front of Patsy and Charles, and a burger plate in front of Annabeth.

  “Wait a second,” complained Patsy. “This is supposed to be grilled.”

  “And the burger’s wrong too,” said Doug. “It was another grilled grouper.”

  “It’s fine,” said Annabeth. “I can eat this.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Doug, handing the burger plate to Wanda. “Probably a mix-up in the kitchen.”

  “She’s so fuzzy-headed,” said Patsy, spearing a forkful of salad and eating it.

  The two men sat waiting for the rest of the food, but Annabeth said, “Oh please, don’t wait. Your food will be cold. Eat.”

  Doug refilled the wine glasses for Annabeth and Patsy.

  Wanda returned to the table with one order of grilled grouper, which she set in front of Patsy. “I’m sorry. We’re out of grouper. Is the snapper all right?”

  Annabeth nodded, “Sure, it’s fine. And a glass of water please.”

  Before Annabeth’s supper arrived, the phone in Charles’ pocket rang, and he answered it. “Hello? Yes, dear. Are you sure? Look downstairs? In the kitchen? No Tylenol? No Advil? How’s that possible? All right, I’ll be right along.” He flipped the phone closed then turned to his companions, “My wife needs some aspirin. Imagine that—a pharmacist’s wife running out of aspirin.”

  Annabeth rose to leave with him, but Charles insisted that she stay. “You haven’t even had your supper.”

  “Of course you’ll stay. After all we’ve gone through this evening to get you some edible food,” interjected Doug.

  Patsy remained silent.

  “I’ll get the check,” said Doug. “Sara’s waiting.”

  “Thanks,” smiled Charles. “Next one’s on me.”

  “Does he ever get the check?” asked Patsy when Charles was beyond hearing. “Every time I see him in here, he gets a call and trots home to the wife.”

  Wanda removed Charles’ and Patsy’s plates and set Annabeth’s food in front of her along with a glass of water, and at last she began eating, along with Doug, who had waited for her.

  “You know, I think I’ll sing a song. Need to show these people how it’s done.” Patsy winked at Doug, strode to the end of the bar and sang a passable rendition of “Walking After Midnight,” although she posed no threat to the memory of her namesake.

  “She has a lot of energy,” said Annabeth in genuine admiration.

  Doug nodded, “You know, I just realized it this minute. What it was about Patsy.” He continued softly, watching his girlfriend sing, but speaking to Annabeth in an intimate way, expressing his ideas slowly as they were forming in his mind. “My wife always acted like she wanted me to be someone else, someone who was better, someone more up to her standards. And with her I felt like I’d captured a treasure, one I maybe didn’t deserve. And she acted like that was the correct interpretation, right up to the end of our marriage. I always felt like it had all been my fault, that I just couldn’t live up to the life—and the partner—I’d chosen, that I’d reached beyond my limits. With Patsy, there are no complications. She wants me for who I am, well as much of me as she understands.”

  “You must have been very competitive,” said Annabeth.

  Doug’s eyes widened with insight. “Yes! I never thought of that.”

  Before he could continue, Patsy had returned to the table, saying, “Look who I found by the cigarette machine.” The man was tall, with the same dark eyes and fair skin that made Patsy so beautiful, although his face was marred with a number of pock marks.

  Doug rose from his seat, shook the man’s hand and then reseated himself. “Annabeth Welner, this is George Healy.”

  “My wonderful brother,” said Patsy, smiling, “Now our table is less unbalanced.”

  “Hello, Annabeth,” said George, smiling at her. “Let me refill your wine glass.”

  Before she could decline the invitation, she watched aghast as R.J., his arm around Linna, walked into the bar, his footsteps unsteady. Not even spotting Annabeth, he steered his girlfriend to a booth at the back of the bar and began kissing her in a manner that was far too intimate for a public place.

  “I don’t believe it!” trilled Patsy. “That’s the guy. The low life, cheater guy.” Knowing better than to point, she nodded toward R.J., who by this time had his back to them.

  Seeing that her glass was filled, Annabeth lifted it and downed the wine, then held her hand to her temple. The headache that had begun at two in the afternoon was now a migraine.

  “Are you all right?” asked Doug.

  “I really need to get home. Headache for hours.” Annabeth stood quickly, and feeling the room spin around, she steadied her hand against the table.

  “We’ll drive you home,” said Doug.

  Patsy jabbed George with her elbow, causing him to say, “Ouch!” followed by a hasty offer to see Annabeth home.

  “I’ll be fine, really,” said Annabeth, trying to regain her equilibrium by focusing on one corner of the bar.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” said George.

  “We’re ready to leave anyway,” argued Doug.

  Not wanting Patsy anywhere near her house, Annabeth said, “You two go on with your celebration. I’ll be fine. Some fresh air will help. Thanks so much for supper.” She took a couple of steps toward the door, expecting to be able to exit on her own, but George leapt up, and placed his arm on her shoulder to steady her, and he helped her out the door toward his car.

  Want to know what happens next and how Annabeth’s story ends? Click here to buy A Change of Heart.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nancy Frederick was born in Brooklyn, New York, raised in New Jersey and Florida and has been an uneasy California transplant for the last couple of decades. She’s an internationally acclaimed astrologer who is the author of thousands of articles and six New Age books. When she’s not doing readings for clients across the globe, she’s writing novels, of which this is her most recent. She enjoys strolling outside in the beautiful California sunshine, going to movies, and cooking. She’s @NancySussan on Twitter.

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