Her Passionate Plan B by Dixie Browning

you’ll decide to enter a nunnery and I’ll write a bestseller and go on Oprah. ”
    The voluptuous redhead tested the vinyl seat with her hand before sliding inside. “She definitely needs a man, though. She’s got that tight look around the eyes. She needs to pump up her immune system with a little preventive sex.”
    Marty pulled out of the potholed parking area and headed toward her Sugar Lane address, named, according to local legend, for the enormous sacks of sugar delivered there back when moonshining was in vogue. “According to you, sex is the miracle drug. I doubt if Daisy would agree with you, I know I wouldn’t. She didn’t seem all that interested in her studly gentleman.”
    â€œDon’t let her fool you, she was trying a little too hard not to look interested.” Sasha tilted her seat back and propped her size-five platform sandals on the dash.
    â€œAfter Jerry, who can blame her for not trusting men?”
    â€œI doubt if she trusts anyone except for you and me.”
    â€œAnd we’re plotting behind her back,” Marty said with a sigh. “Some friends.”
    â€œWell, dammit, somebody’s got to take care of her. You want her to end up an embittered old woman, living alone on social security with a houseful of cats?”
    â€œSounds good to me.”
    â€œWell, not to me. It’s unnatural. The only men she’s dated since Jerry dumped her were losers, and even then she never dated any of them more than twice.”
    â€œWell, duh.” Marty snickered. “That means she’s smarter than you are.”
    â€œI’m going to forget you said that. And what about all those doctors she works with?”
    â€œProbably married. You know the drill—first wife puts him through med school, second wife comes alongonce he’s made it and claims the reward. Meanwhile he probably has a mistress waiting in the wings for act three.”
    â€œGod, you sound jaded.”
    â€œI’m not jaded, I’m simply a realist,” Marty declared. “Anyway, picking a mate in the same profession almost never works out. My first husband was in publishing. I loved him dearly for the first three weeks, but after that we started disagreeing about everything. He thought what I read was trash—I thought what he read was pretentious crap.”
    â€œWhat kind of publishing?”
    â€œHow-to books for computer dumbbells.”
    â€œOh. Then he wasn’t actually literary, he was a nerd who knew how to spell.”
    â€œYeah, well—at least he was good at it. He made a lot of money teaching other people how to be good nerds before he got sick.”
    Both women fell silent, thinking of former relationships that hadn’t worked out. Then Sasha said, “Drop me off at the corner—unless you need help getting those boxes into the house?” The two women lived a block and a half apart in a small subdivision that had been built back in the seventies when Muddy Landing had first begun to expand. Marty’s house had been built several years before the rest, so it wasn’t actually a part of the development that had grown up around it. Pulling over to where a curb would be if the neighborhood ran to such amenities, she said, “I’m going to leave everything in the car for now.”
    â€œWhatever. Save the juiciest ones for me, okay? You know the authors I like. I’m doing a new office complexat Kitty Hawk starting next week, which means I’ll be running up to Norfolk a lot, but I’ll still have plenty of time to read.” Sasha was an interior designer. She opened the door and extended one long, silk-clad leg.
    â€œSpeaking of prospects…” said Marty.
    â€œWere we?”
    â€œSpeaking of prospects, if Daisy doesn’t want the studly gentleman, maybe we should add him to our list of candidates.” The skimpy list ranged from the barely possible to the enthusiastic