asked to resign his position as branch manager.
She’d promised Toots then that she would leave Walter. However, deep-rooted Catholic beliefs ingrained in her since she was a little girl prevented her from walking out on a man whom she’d sworn to love, honor, and obey. She spent the rest of her life supporting Walter and his drinking habit.
And now here she was, almost thirty years later, anxiously waiting for the old bastard to die. At sixty-five, her life was finally her own. Just thinking about the possibilities sent butterflies buzzing to her stomach. Sophie fell asleep with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon on her face.
Chapter 12
A s usual, Toots woke up at five A.M. even though it’d been after three when she went to bed. Old habits die hard, she thought as she switched on the bedside lamp. With Bernice due to arrive any minute, Toots reached for the well-worn blue chenille robe at the foot of the bed. She’d left the window open, and her room was downright chilly. Summer would bring sultry breezes and blazing heat soon enough. California would be deliciously warm without the mugginess South Carolina was so well known for. Toots couldn’t wait to begin her bicoastal lifestyle. Having her three best friends along for the ride was better than good sex and sugar. Seeing Abby almost whenever she wanted was decadent piles of pink puffy icing on a very large cake. She laughed at her thoughts as she entered the enormous bathroom, where she turned on the shower and stepped under its warm spray.
As the water sluiced over her shoulders and down her back, Toots turned her head from left to right to release the tightness in her neck. She’d noticed over the past few months a stiffness to her joints when she first got up in the morning. Arthritis and old age knocking at the door. Screw that, she was only sixty-five! Wasn’t that the new fifty? Sort of? Sort of? Pushing aside further negative thoughts, Toots finished her shower in record time. Wrapping herself in a giant bath sheet, she rummaged through her ample closet and found her favorite ancient pair of jeans, the ones she had purchased right after Abby was born. She dried off quickly, rummaged in her drawer for her lacy undies, then slipped on her jeans. They still fit like a glove. She topped them off with a bright orange blouse. She pulled her thick hair up in her usual topknot, dabbed a bit of blush on her cheeks and a pale pink bit of shimmer on her lips. Gazing at herself in the mirror, Toots had to admit she looked pretty darn good for an old broad. She’d aged well in spite of her nasty habit of smoking and her sugar addiction. Maybe she’d give one of them up when she got settled in California. Maybe.
“Oh, bull, you’re not going to give up your vices any more than Joe’s going to retire,” she mumbled to herself before her guilty conscience assaulted her. She was asking her best friends to give up bad habits; shouldn’t she be practicing what she preached? Yes, said the little devil perched on her shoulder. She should and she would. Soon. Maybe. Not.
Without another thought, Toots hurried downstairs to the kitchen. She readied a pot of coffee for Bernice. While the machine gurgled, Toots stepped outside for her first cigarette of the day. Cool air smacked her squarely in the face. “Damn weather. Figures it would cool off when I’m about to leave.” Toots inhaled another puff of nicotine. When she heard the front door open, she crushed her cigarette out in the giant ashtray she’d left on the porch before going to bed.
“Morning, Bernice. You look bright and shiny,” Toots said to her housekeeper.
Bernice cleared her throat with such force that Toots expected to see her esophagus fly out of her mouth right through the wall.
“Are you ill?” Toots asked in amazement. “You sound terrible.”
“Just my early-morning allergies,” Bernice said. She poured two cups of coffee and took them to the table.
Bernice looked to be in one of
She’d promised Toots then that she would leave Walter. However, deep-rooted Catholic beliefs ingrained in her since she was a little girl prevented her from walking out on a man whom she’d sworn to love, honor, and obey. She spent the rest of her life supporting Walter and his drinking habit.
And now here she was, almost thirty years later, anxiously waiting for the old bastard to die. At sixty-five, her life was finally her own. Just thinking about the possibilities sent butterflies buzzing to her stomach. Sophie fell asleep with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon on her face.
Chapter 12
A s usual, Toots woke up at five A.M. even though it’d been after three when she went to bed. Old habits die hard, she thought as she switched on the bedside lamp. With Bernice due to arrive any minute, Toots reached for the well-worn blue chenille robe at the foot of the bed. She’d left the window open, and her room was downright chilly. Summer would bring sultry breezes and blazing heat soon enough. California would be deliciously warm without the mugginess South Carolina was so well known for. Toots couldn’t wait to begin her bicoastal lifestyle. Having her three best friends along for the ride was better than good sex and sugar. Seeing Abby almost whenever she wanted was decadent piles of pink puffy icing on a very large cake. She laughed at her thoughts as she entered the enormous bathroom, where she turned on the shower and stepped under its warm spray.
As the water sluiced over her shoulders and down her back, Toots turned her head from left to right to release the tightness in her neck. She’d noticed over the past few months a stiffness to her joints when she first got up in the morning. Arthritis and old age knocking at the door. Screw that, she was only sixty-five! Wasn’t that the new fifty? Sort of? Sort of? Pushing aside further negative thoughts, Toots finished her shower in record time. Wrapping herself in a giant bath sheet, she rummaged through her ample closet and found her favorite ancient pair of jeans, the ones she had purchased right after Abby was born. She dried off quickly, rummaged in her drawer for her lacy undies, then slipped on her jeans. They still fit like a glove. She topped them off with a bright orange blouse. She pulled her thick hair up in her usual topknot, dabbed a bit of blush on her cheeks and a pale pink bit of shimmer on her lips. Gazing at herself in the mirror, Toots had to admit she looked pretty darn good for an old broad. She’d aged well in spite of her nasty habit of smoking and her sugar addiction. Maybe she’d give one of them up when she got settled in California. Maybe.
“Oh, bull, you’re not going to give up your vices any more than Joe’s going to retire,” she mumbled to herself before her guilty conscience assaulted her. She was asking her best friends to give up bad habits; shouldn’t she be practicing what she preached? Yes, said the little devil perched on her shoulder. She should and she would. Soon. Maybe. Not.
Without another thought, Toots hurried downstairs to the kitchen. She readied a pot of coffee for Bernice. While the machine gurgled, Toots stepped outside for her first cigarette of the day. Cool air smacked her squarely in the face. “Damn weather. Figures it would cool off when I’m about to leave.” Toots inhaled another puff of nicotine. When she heard the front door open, she crushed her cigarette out in the giant ashtray she’d left on the porch before going to bed.
“Morning, Bernice. You look bright and shiny,” Toots said to her housekeeper.
Bernice cleared her throat with such force that Toots expected to see her esophagus fly out of her mouth right through the wall.
“Are you ill?” Toots asked in amazement. “You sound terrible.”
“Just my early-morning allergies,” Bernice said. She poured two cups of coffee and took them to the table.
Bernice looked to be in one of
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