once.”
Gerri laughed into the phone. “That would serve him right,” she said. “His mother and his wife on his case.”
“Yes. I can’t think of anything more likely to make him wish he were dead.”
* * *
Bob was already at work in Andy’s kitchen when she got home from school at five o’clock. She positively sparkled when she saw him. “Hey,” she said brightly. “You’re getting an early start!”
“I’m laying down the ceramic tonight. You’re going to have to stay off it for twenty-four hours. It could slide the grout.”
“Okay. Did you have dinner?”
“I grabbed something on the way over,” he said.
“I’m starting to think you’re afraid I might poison you.” She laughed. “I offer every night, but you’ve always already eaten.”
He stood straight and grinned, patting his firm, round stomach and treating her to that hypnotic grin of his. “Look at me, Andy. You think I’ve missed many meals?”
“You look healthy,” she said.
“That’s not what the doctor says.”
“What? Is your doctor worried about you?”
“Everything seems to be holding, but he’s convinced I’m overweight and headed for a coronary. That’s why I try to stay away from him. I feel fine most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” she asked, suddenly stricken with worry.
“Doing the work I do, my back and knees kick up sometimes. I’m fine. My age, you get aches and pains.”
“Do you mind if I ask—just how old are you?”
“Fifty-three. Getting up there.”
“Well, you’re just a few years older than me,” she said, opening her takeout carton on the dusty table.
“Not possible,” he said, getting down on his knees again. “You look like a young girl.”
“I’m a forty-seven-year-old girl. Can I get a glass of wine before I’m closed out of the kitchen?”
“Sure. You have plenty of time. But it’s going to go real fast now. After the tile, there’s not much to do. Just the appliances, countertops, baseboards, touch up. Do you still like the new cabinets?”
“Gorgeous,” she said. “What am I going to do with myself in the evenings when you and Beau aren’t here?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty to do without someone making noise and messing up your house.”
She’d have to try to remember. This routine had given her so much comfort that she dreaded the kitchen renovation being finished. At first she thought it was just having someone around the house, but soon she noticed it was more than that, it was the quality time they spent together. Bob was there almost every day and she spent at least an hour just talking with him. Then she’d take Beau to her bedroom to lie beside her on the bed and she’d catch up on the day’s paperwork or just relax. Sometimes Beau would curl up next to her and she’d nod off; sometimes he’d roll over on his back and she’d idly scratch his belly while she watched TV. She hadn’t had a dog since she was a child. She realized more attention should be given to the serenity that came with scratching a big old dog’s belly.
An hour of conversation every day for four weeks, at least. That was quite a lot of talking. She knew so much about him, had told him so much about herself. She knew he lived in the guesthouse behind his sister and brother-in-law’s very large home. Their grown kids and grandkids were frequent visitors. It was like living with family while having his own place. He tried not to impose on them and helped them out whenever he could; they seemed to enjoy him being there. He felt no real urgency to move and certainly didn’t have the income to afford real estate in Mill Valley.
Sometimes their conversations were quite personal. She told him about her marriages and their failures, about trying to raise a son without the regular presence of his father. She even told him she probably got involved with her second husband because she was vulnerable to a good looking, virile young guy—and then she tried to
Gerri laughed into the phone. “That would serve him right,” she said. “His mother and his wife on his case.”
“Yes. I can’t think of anything more likely to make him wish he were dead.”
* * *
Bob was already at work in Andy’s kitchen when she got home from school at five o’clock. She positively sparkled when she saw him. “Hey,” she said brightly. “You’re getting an early start!”
“I’m laying down the ceramic tonight. You’re going to have to stay off it for twenty-four hours. It could slide the grout.”
“Okay. Did you have dinner?”
“I grabbed something on the way over,” he said.
“I’m starting to think you’re afraid I might poison you.” She laughed. “I offer every night, but you’ve always already eaten.”
He stood straight and grinned, patting his firm, round stomach and treating her to that hypnotic grin of his. “Look at me, Andy. You think I’ve missed many meals?”
“You look healthy,” she said.
“That’s not what the doctor says.”
“What? Is your doctor worried about you?”
“Everything seems to be holding, but he’s convinced I’m overweight and headed for a coronary. That’s why I try to stay away from him. I feel fine most of the time.”
“Most of the time?” she asked, suddenly stricken with worry.
“Doing the work I do, my back and knees kick up sometimes. I’m fine. My age, you get aches and pains.”
“Do you mind if I ask—just how old are you?”
“Fifty-three. Getting up there.”
“Well, you’re just a few years older than me,” she said, opening her takeout carton on the dusty table.
“Not possible,” he said, getting down on his knees again. “You look like a young girl.”
“I’m a forty-seven-year-old girl. Can I get a glass of wine before I’m closed out of the kitchen?”
“Sure. You have plenty of time. But it’s going to go real fast now. After the tile, there’s not much to do. Just the appliances, countertops, baseboards, touch up. Do you still like the new cabinets?”
“Gorgeous,” she said. “What am I going to do with myself in the evenings when you and Beau aren’t here?”
“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty to do without someone making noise and messing up your house.”
She’d have to try to remember. This routine had given her so much comfort that she dreaded the kitchen renovation being finished. At first she thought it was just having someone around the house, but soon she noticed it was more than that, it was the quality time they spent together. Bob was there almost every day and she spent at least an hour just talking with him. Then she’d take Beau to her bedroom to lie beside her on the bed and she’d catch up on the day’s paperwork or just relax. Sometimes Beau would curl up next to her and she’d nod off; sometimes he’d roll over on his back and she’d idly scratch his belly while she watched TV. She hadn’t had a dog since she was a child. She realized more attention should be given to the serenity that came with scratching a big old dog’s belly.
An hour of conversation every day for four weeks, at least. That was quite a lot of talking. She knew so much about him, had told him so much about herself. She knew he lived in the guesthouse behind his sister and brother-in-law’s very large home. Their grown kids and grandkids were frequent visitors. It was like living with family while having his own place. He tried not to impose on them and helped them out whenever he could; they seemed to enjoy him being there. He felt no real urgency to move and certainly didn’t have the income to afford real estate in Mill Valley.
Sometimes their conversations were quite personal. She told him about her marriages and their failures, about trying to raise a son without the regular presence of his father. She even told him she probably got involved with her second husband because she was vulnerable to a good looking, virile young guy—and then she tried to
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