“I’m sure they do,” Russ said, and both hosts sniggered lewdly.
The word cliché popped into his brain. He shoved it aside. There was nothing cliché about him. He just needed to find a different morning talk show, that’s all. “Look, I don’t mess with married women, or women who are involved with someone, and it’s not me who comes on to them. It’s the other way around. We’re consenting adults, enjoying a little safe, recreational sex. That’s all there is to it. No addiction. No taking advantage. Nobody is getting hurt. I’m unattached, clean, healthy and a decent guy. Can I help it if women want me?”
Trudy laughed out loud, delighted by the latest installment of “Loaded Question.” She turned the bacon frying in the skillet and headed to the fridge for eggs. She liked to send her husband off to work with a good, hot breakfast in his stomach. Returning to the kitchen counter, she set the eggs down and turned up the radio.
She gasped, hardly believing Yvonne’s handyman had the audacity to come on the air. Pulling her iPhone out of her apron pocket, she called her sister’s number. Nanci picked up right away.
“Is that you, Trudy?”
“Are you hearing this?” Trudy demanded. “Are you listening to ‘Loaded Question’?”
“I am. I already looked up Handyman Haney’s place of business on the Internet. Haney & Sons Construction and Handyman Service. No job is too big or too small, according to their website. Might have him do a few jobs for me.” They both giggled like teenagers.
Trudy sighed. “I know it’s wrong, but I wish my Haley would have an encounter like Yvonne’s. She needs something like that to bolster her self-esteem since you-know-who did you-know-what to her.”
“Still can’t believe that little twerp bolted like he did, and only two weeks before their wedding.” Nanci huffed. “Who does that? Who just up and suddenly decides they have to live in Indonesia—without the high school sweetheart they’ve been engaged to for two whole years?”
“I think there may have been another woman involved.” Trudy forked the bacon out of the pan and set it on a stack of paper towels to drain. Cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder, she moved the pan, replacing it with a smaller one for the eggs. “Don’t you think so?”
“Not for one single minute,” her sister snapped. “I think he had a man waiting for him over there. I can’t imagine any heterosexual male walking away from my gorgeous niece for any other reason.”
“Aww. That’s sweet—in a warped kind of way.” Trudy melted a little butter in the pan, pushed the toast down in the toaster, and cracked the eggs over the skillet. “Haley is really down in the dumps, and it’s been months. She needs something other than remodeling projects to shake her out of her slump. Have you seen what a disaster she’s made out of her house?”
“I have, and it’s frightening.”
Frank Cooper, Trudy’s own high school sweetheart, walked into the kitchen and kissed her cheek before helping himself to coffee and meandering into the dining room with his newspaper tucked under his arm. Trudy transferred her phone to her hand. “Can I call you back after breakfast?”
“Sure. Later.”
Trudy put her phone back in her pocket and focused on flipping the eggs so they were over easy just the way she and Frank liked them. The toast popped up. While she buttered the lightly toasted whole-grain bread, a plan began to coalesce in her mind. She loaded two plates, cut a banana in half, adding them to their fare, and carried their breakfasts to the dining room. As usual, Frank had his nose buried in his newspaper.
She set his plate in front of him. “Frank, Haley’s birthday is coming up.”
He lowered the edge of his paper to send her an indulgent smile. “If I’m not mistaken, our daughter’s birthday is in May. This is November.” Setting aside the news, he put a napkin on his lap and reached for the salt.
“I know when her birthday is. I’m the one who carried her for nine months and went through seventy-two hours of labor bringing her into this world.” She lifted her chin. “Excruciating labor, I might add.”
“Seems to me the number of hours you were in labor grows with each telling.” He raised an eyebrow and cut an egg with the edge of his fork.
She blew out a breath. “Her birthday is coming up—”
“I can’t argue with that, sweetheart. Birthdays do come around once a year. They’re always coming up. Even for you, though to me you’re still as beautiful as you were the day we met.”
“Oh, Frank, and you’re still the sweetest man in the world.” She slid her palm over his arm, warmth for her husband of almost thirty years filling her with gratitude. He’d given her two amazing children and a very comfortable life. She wanted the same for her only daughter. “Well . . . I was thinking maybe we could give Haley an early birthday present this year.” She squirmed in her seat just a tiny bit. “She’s had such a rough time of it, and I just want to help her out. Don’t you want to help her out, honey?”
“Mmm-mm,” he agreed around a mouthful.
“Her house is a disaster area, what with all the home improvement projects she starts and never finishes. I’m afraid she’s going to bring the place tumbling down around her ears, or worse. It’s going to go up in smoke.”
Frank frowned and nodded.
“What if we pay a handyman to help her put things back together so that her house is livable again? I want my little girl to be safe. Don’t you want our little girl to be safe, Frank?”
Her husband’s eyes twinkled as he swallowed his mouthful. “Haley isn’t a little girl anymore, Trudy. She’s twenty-six, with a well-established career and a home of her own. Still, it’s an excellent idea. Take care of it, would you, sweetheart? Hire somebody, but check for references on Angie’s List first.”
“Oh, I will.” No, I won’t. She crossed her fingers in her lap against the small white lie, knowing exactly whom to hire. She rose from her chair. “More coffee?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2013 A Dannette Photography
AS A CHILD, BARBARA LONGLEY moved frequently, learning early on how to entertain herself with stories. Adulthood didn’t tame her peripatetic ways: she has lived on an Appalachian commune, taught on an Indian reservation and traveled the country from coast to coast. After having children of her own, she decided to try staying put, choosing Minnesota as her home. By day, she puts her master’s degree in special education to use teaching elementary school. By night, she explores all things mythical, paranormal and newsworthy, channelling what she learns into her writing.
Ms. Longley loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, barbaralongley.com, on Twitter @barbaralongley, or on Facebook—facebook.com/barlongley.
The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4) Page 28
