inventory by these nutcases, not that it's hurting business any. But I don't want to start thinking you're doing them any favors. Makes me think you believe this stuff.”
“You don't think it's a little weird that so many - “
“I think it's very weird,” he interrupted. “You don’t think so?”
She shrugged, afraid of answering either way. He took it as an affirmative and moved closer to her, as if preparing to kiss her, which she knew he'd never do at work. When he spoke, she smelled chocolate on his breath. “Don't even start,” he whispered. “You going to tell me next you had one of those dreams?”
Holly shook her head. She hadn't, and at this moment was very grateful for that. She’d have had a hard time lying when he was this close. Clay knew it.
He nodded, staying his ground a little longer. “Good. Did that woman yesterday ask you to join her?”
Time to lie after all, Holly realized. She looked directly into her boyfriend’s pale blue eyes and said, “No, Clay. I'm guessing she was too busy getting the order in. I didn't understand what it was all about until you figured it out later.”
Keep the gaze on him , she thought, make him look at my eyes . She needed to keep him from seeing the splotch of red on her neck, which showed itself like a birthmark whenever she tried to lie.
Her appeal to his ego worked. He nodded more vigorously, stepped one pace back. He looked around the store. Holly kept the I'm Lying mark on her neck turned away.
“If any of them come in again, just take their money and keep it business only. No more than that.”
“No problem.”
He moved around from behind the counter and strutted away. He strutted a lot.
Every time she had one of these close encounters with Clay's dark side, here or at home, Holly felt an overwhelming need to seek out Connor and hold her baby close. The thought sent her breasts to aching, though it wouldn't be time to pump for another hour. Interesting the way a mother's body reacted when she thought of her child. Maybe she'd go home at lunch and feed him herself, though Dot -- her best friend and babysitter -- would remind her that would waste yesterday's milk in the refrigerator at home. Throw off the whole schedule. She tried to ignore the sensation, and hoped she could last another half hour until break.
* * *
The base of the hull was a forty-eight foot rectangular plank of plywood, four sheets wide, twelve sheets long. They'd laid it out and attached each section with white nylon seam tape at the adjoining edges, then covered everything with the boating glue. They'd finished the initial layout by two-thirty. As Ben and the girls ventured off to get late-lunch sandwiches for everyone, Margaret led Marty, Al, and two other firemen (one being off-duty but having come by to check his schedule then deciding to stay and help), in laying out a second layer of sheets, staggered so that the seams of the first were covered by the second. Glue again, seam tape all around, then more glue to seal the wood.
Al 's moustache was caked in sawdust as he finished cutting off the protruding half-length of the upper and lower sheets. Along the outer edges of this plank, thin half-inch beams were glued then nailed. Katie and Robin, sporting oversized work gloves, carried the scrap wood to a new pile for use later. A considerable charge was going to hit Margaret's credit card for the supplies. She couldn't waste anything if she could help it. She expected a message at home from the bank asking if the sudden spike in purchases was legitimate. She wondered how many other sudden purchases were being made from home supply stores around the country.
The finished construction had been raised up on the cinderblocks which had been delivered an hour after the work began. The blocks were stacked five-high at each end, at what would be the bow and stern. More concrete blocks were placed on top, dead center, of the wood. When Marty put down the
“You don't think it's a little weird that so many - “
“I think it's very weird,” he interrupted. “You don’t think so?”
She shrugged, afraid of answering either way. He took it as an affirmative and moved closer to her, as if preparing to kiss her, which she knew he'd never do at work. When he spoke, she smelled chocolate on his breath. “Don't even start,” he whispered. “You going to tell me next you had one of those dreams?”
Holly shook her head. She hadn't, and at this moment was very grateful for that. She’d have had a hard time lying when he was this close. Clay knew it.
He nodded, staying his ground a little longer. “Good. Did that woman yesterday ask you to join her?”
Time to lie after all, Holly realized. She looked directly into her boyfriend’s pale blue eyes and said, “No, Clay. I'm guessing she was too busy getting the order in. I didn't understand what it was all about until you figured it out later.”
Keep the gaze on him , she thought, make him look at my eyes . She needed to keep him from seeing the splotch of red on her neck, which showed itself like a birthmark whenever she tried to lie.
Her appeal to his ego worked. He nodded more vigorously, stepped one pace back. He looked around the store. Holly kept the I'm Lying mark on her neck turned away.
“If any of them come in again, just take their money and keep it business only. No more than that.”
“No problem.”
He moved around from behind the counter and strutted away. He strutted a lot.
Every time she had one of these close encounters with Clay's dark side, here or at home, Holly felt an overwhelming need to seek out Connor and hold her baby close. The thought sent her breasts to aching, though it wouldn't be time to pump for another hour. Interesting the way a mother's body reacted when she thought of her child. Maybe she'd go home at lunch and feed him herself, though Dot -- her best friend and babysitter -- would remind her that would waste yesterday's milk in the refrigerator at home. Throw off the whole schedule. She tried to ignore the sensation, and hoped she could last another half hour until break.
* * *
The base of the hull was a forty-eight foot rectangular plank of plywood, four sheets wide, twelve sheets long. They'd laid it out and attached each section with white nylon seam tape at the adjoining edges, then covered everything with the boating glue. They'd finished the initial layout by two-thirty. As Ben and the girls ventured off to get late-lunch sandwiches for everyone, Margaret led Marty, Al, and two other firemen (one being off-duty but having come by to check his schedule then deciding to stay and help), in laying out a second layer of sheets, staggered so that the seams of the first were covered by the second. Glue again, seam tape all around, then more glue to seal the wood.
Al 's moustache was caked in sawdust as he finished cutting off the protruding half-length of the upper and lower sheets. Along the outer edges of this plank, thin half-inch beams were glued then nailed. Katie and Robin, sporting oversized work gloves, carried the scrap wood to a new pile for use later. A considerable charge was going to hit Margaret's credit card for the supplies. She couldn't waste anything if she could help it. She expected a message at home from the bank asking if the sudden spike in purchases was legitimate. She wondered how many other sudden purchases were being made from home supply stores around the country.
The finished construction had been raised up on the cinderblocks which had been delivered an hour after the work began. The blocks were stacked five-high at each end, at what would be the bow and stern. More concrete blocks were placed on top, dead center, of the wood. When Marty put down the
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