12

 

Annabeth sat nervously beside her attorney as the judge reviewed the various financial statements.  He was a man in his thirties, and he seemed improbably young to hold such an important position.  His brown hair was boyishly rumpled, but his eyes were intelligent.  R.J., seated at a table next to Kyle Sennet, glanced repeatedly at his watch.  Mother Welner, dressed in funereal black, sat behind her son's table.  Every now and then she would glance toward Annabeth, daggers in her eyes, then look back toward her son, an expression of wounded piety on her sagging face.

"I see here that you are now employed, Mrs. Welner?" asked the judge.

Annabeth nodded silently as Asprey rose.  "Your honor, my client has been a wife and mother all her adult life.  She was forced to take a job at minimum wage--anything she could get--just to survive after her husband abandoned her and stole their joint funds."

The judge nodded.  "I understand.  But she is working, and is earning money?"

"Yes, she is but…."

The judge nodded again.  He resumed his study of the financial statements involved, forcing the others in the courtroom to wait silently.  "All right," he said finally,   "I'm going to issue an order for temporary support."   Annabeth listened as Henson named an amount.  Would that be enough to save her house?  R.J. had offered much more when they met in her father's office.  Asprey's strategy wasn't working at all.

"Excuse me, your honor, but we do not accept this financial statement."  Asprey walked confidently toward the judge, "There is a substantial discrepancy in his assets.  And I'm sure we will uncover additional income."

"Do you have proof?"

"We need more time," insisted Asprey.

The judge shook his head.  "All right. I'm setting a second hearing for three weeks from today.  Be ready." 

"Let's get on with it, how 'bout it.  This here is done, so let's sign the rest of the papers and get this over with."  R.J. spoke with impatience, glancing at his watch.

"I'll see you people in November." The judge rose, the others rose, and they watched him walk out of the courtroom.

R.J., walking over to Annabeth, stopped in front of her, deftly counted out some cash, with the same sort of gesture as one might use when dealing cards, looked defiantly at Asprey and flung it onto the table in front of her.  "That's what you get for tryin' to rob me," he said.

Glaring arrogantly at R.J.,  Asprey rose, and turning toward Annabeth, he said, "Put away your pin money, my dear.  You might want to purchase a new dress with it."  Annabeth silently looked at the young attorney, her eyes widening, then placed the money in her wallet.

"This is just temporary support.  Of course you realize this."  There was a look on Asprey's face, one that said he knew more than he was telling, a look that bad poker players sometimes have when they are trying without success to bluff.  Annabeth had often seen that look on R.J.'s face and it always made her nervous.

"We'll see." answered R.J..

"Trust me."  Asprey attempted to sound condescending.  "The judge simply wants to make sure that Annabeth is all right for the time being. "

"Let's get real," said Sennet smoothly.  "We want a divorce; your client wants the house.  Let's just come to an agreement we can all live with."

"That's right.  I'm not bein' unreasonable.  And we had a lotta good years.  You pay me my half and I'll sign over the house."

Asprey laughed.   "You're dirty Welner, and everyone knows it.  Every judge will try to see that your wife's standard of living remains the same.  Which doesn't mean struggling to survive on a pittance in an apartment."

"Look!  I'm fed up with you.  What do you want?" R.J.'s voice crackled with intensity as he spoke.

"We want you to sign off on the house and walk away.  We want the twelve-hundred a month you offered last time.  Then you can have your divorce.  We'll sign the papers today."  R.J. hated to be cornered and Annabeth knew he'd never fold this easily.  He had nothing to win by doing so.

"You think I'm a fool?" asked R.J..

"I think you're a lot worse than a fool, but so what.  You want your freedom in a hurry.  I'm offering it to you."

"You know," said R.J., "Maybe I been too hasty.  Been too nice, too.  Makin' too big a deal outta this whole thing.  I don't gotta be divorced.  Or remarried.  Sure seems the judge has a lot more realistic idea of what's what than you do.  So go fuck yourself."  R.J. turned to stride out of the courtroom as the others gasped.  His mother walked over to him then, grasped his arm tightly and walked out with him.

"I apologize," said Sennet lamely, following his client from the courtroom.

"Are you all right?" Asprey asked Annabeth.

She shook her head, "No, not really.  I hate these scenes."

Asprey glanced at his watch then said, "In legal situations like this, conflict is inevitable.  I've got a meeting now.  I'll call you later on, okay?"

"What if we offered him something?  I could borrow from a bank."

Asprey shook his head.  "Let's go slowly.  Trust me.  Really."  Without looking back, he dashed out of the courtroom, leaving Annabeth to walk out alone.  She paused for a moment, spotting R.J. in deep conversation with his mother.  Her hand clutched R.J.'s arm tightly as she spoke, a worried look on her face.  In the other hand she held the financial statement R.J. had offered to the court.  R.J. leaned down and spoke to her, his face an intense mask.  If only she could hear what they were saying.  Spotting Annabeth, R.J. shook his head once, then escorted his mother from the building.  Something was going on between them.  Mother Welner never looked worried without a reason.  Annabeth walked toward her car then, all alone and puzzling the scene she'd witnessed.

"We'll never sell all this stuff," said Annabeth to Becky the following day.  "The display looks great, though."  They had worked for an hour setting up two folding tables with various items.  There were the usual boxes, key racks, trays, plates, bowls, small shelves, bookends, all painted with charming designs and arranged decoratively on top of white table cloths.

"Yeah, we did a great job.  And have a little faith, will you!"  Becky reached in her tote bag and produced a packet of tiny stick-on labels and began pricing her merchandise.  Seeing Annabeth hesitating, she asked, "Need some of these?"

"Yes, thanks.  But could you help me price things?"

Becky nodded.  "Just let me finish here."

Annabeth scrutinized her own pieces as well as those still in boxes on the ground.  What were they worth?

"Okay, lets go."  Becky touched a wooden tray, painted charmingly with flowered, striped and checked tea cups.  "How many of these do you have?"

"I have three trays, but they're all different.  That one cost six-fifty."

"I want to say ninety, but that is probably too steep for this show."

"Ninety dollars?"  Annabeth was shocked.

"What'dya think?  Ninety pesos?"  Becky picked up the tray, and flipped it over.  "It's just so darling," she enthused, noting the designs on the bottom as well as the top.  "Make it seventy-five and if it isn't sold by noon tomorrow, mark it down to sixty."

Still clearly unsure, Annabeth complied. 

Next Becky scrutinized two little shelves, each painted with hearts and flowers.

"I got those from Rum.  They were eight each."

Becky nodded.  "How many of these do you have?  All different, right?"

Annabeth nodded.  "I have six of them."

"You never run out of ideas, do you!  I'm just so impressed with you."

"Well, I don't always remember what I've painted in the past, but now I photograph everything after I finish it."

"Oh, make a scrap book.  That's a wonderful idea. Think I'll do that myself.  Now, let's see.  I don't think you can get eighty for these since they're new, not one of a kind finds.  How about fifty?"

Annabeth gulped.  "Are you sure?"

"Okay, maybe forty.  Try for forty-five.  You know, I think you need to go on a shopping expedition.  Check out some stuff."

"Everyone suggests that."

"I love these wooden plates.  Though why anyone would buy a plain wooden plate, I can't imagine.  Okay, how many?"

"Six, but some are round and some octagonal.  They were about three each, some a little more, a little less."

"I gotta check out more flea markets.  Seems to me there's a better profit margin that way.  Forty is probably too much."

"Forty!  I would have charged ten."

Becky shook her head.  "Are you a charity or an artist?  Twenty five, no, twenty-eight."

"Wow."

They continued like that until Annabeth had little stickers on everything. 

The prices were just too high, she was certain of it, but if she didn't sell anything the first day, she could reduce them for the second.  Or try some stores if they don't sell at all.  At least they were having a nice day.  Annabeth glanced at her watch.  Nine.  No sales.

Becky smiled.  "Don't worry.  Things never get going till ten.  See, look how many more people are walking around now.  Why don't we have some food and relax.  I brought sandwiches and cupcakes as a treat."  Becky reached in her bag, pulled out the lunch and offered some to Annabeth.

Annabeth nodded. "Me, too.  Sandwiches and cookies.  And carrot sticks."

"We make a good team."  The women divvied up the food and sat relaxing together in the collapsible chairs they had brought along with them.

"Did your husband mind that you came with me today, instead of him I mean?"

"I hate to say it, but he was kind of relieved.  He wanted to play golf.  It's nicer now that the weather is a little cooler and he doesn't always want to come with me, but he feels guilty about sending me out all alone.  It's a lot of work sometimes."

"He sounds so nice."

"He has his moments.  You'll have to come over to our house for supper one night.  Then you can meet him."  Becky reached back into her bag for her wallet, which contained a plastic fold-out for pictures, which she happily handed to Annabeth.

"Thanks, I'd love to meet him.  Oh, is this him?"

"Not Harrison Ford!"

Annabeth smiled.  "Oh and these are grandchildren, huh?"

Becky nodded.

"Aren't they just darling!  I can't wait to have grandchildren.  My daughter in New Orleans was lecturing me that there's more to life than marriage, so I guess I'll have to depend on my younger daughter." 

An older woman, walking arm in arm with someone much younger, probably a granddaughter, approached.  

"Gran, look at these.  How darling."

"Cute."  The woman held up the tray, causing Annabeth to wish they hadn't overpriced it.

"It has a tea pot on the bottom.  How sweet."

Feeling nervous, but wanting to help, Annabeth said, "I have two other trays."  She reached under the table and pulled them out.

"Oh!" enthused the girl.  "Each one cuter than the last.  And I love this little jewelry box."

The older woman reached into her purse, removed her wallet, counted out some cash and handed it to Annabeth.  Hugging her granddaughter, she commented, "For your hope chest."

When they were out of ear shot, Annabeth commented to Becky, "I don't believe it."

"Yeah, maybe we should have charged more."

Annabeth shook her head.  "You're too much!"

The day progressed well, and in between dealing with customers, Annabeth and Becky had time for little snippets of casual conversation.  At five they began packing up what was left.

"I'd say we did well.  We have just enough to sell tomorrow," said Becky.

"It was an amazing day.  I can't believe I made this much money."

"It was a good show.  There will be several more between now and Christmas.  Will you be able to get all the weekends off?"

"Probably not all, but some.  Oh, Becky, thank you so much for inviting me.  I could never have done this without all your help."

"I made twice what I usually make, and it was because of your designs, so I'd say we did each other a service."

Annabeth nodded.

"And tomorrow we'll sell the rest of this stuff."

"Amazing."

By Sunday night, Annabeth was exhausted.  She sat on the bed in her robe, after a long hot shower.  Becky was right.  It was a lot of work going to those shows.  And imagine how it was for the craftspeople with breakable items.  All that wrapping.  But it was worth it.  Annabeth tossed a sheaf of bills onto the bed and then counted them.  She really was making progress.  But it was a long way from what she had to what she'd need.  Annabeth returned all but twenty dollars to the tin, then placed it under some sweaters in a drawer.  This was too much cash to be sitting about.

Looking around the empty bedroom, she listened to the quiet in the house, breathed in the safety of her home.  She would save this place yet.  She lay on her bed, relaxing, and let her thoughts wander.  This was the first moment she'd had to think in a long time.  A sensation floated up into her consciousness, one of strength and self-sufficiency.  Maybe she could make her own money.  She already had.  She could survive without R.J., but the real question was how could she be happy? 

She thought then of George Healy.  Random notions, scattered like wildflowers, teased her.  He was a wonderful lover.  It had been so long.  She must be crazy; she didn't even know him.  He seemed like a nice man, didn't he?  But would she ever see him again?  It had been four days.  He could have called.  He didn't remember her name.  Yes he did; it just took a while.  How long does a man wait to call these days?  He would have had to ask Doug for her number.  Maybe he didn't want to.  Or felt strange about it.  It had been so long.  Anyone would have been good.  No, how was that possible?  She just didn't know anything about it.  How would she?  She could call him and apologize for Sally barging in like that.  She could ask Doug for his number.  He'd know it.  Oh, no, she could never do that.  Wouldn't he be in the phone book?  Annabeth reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the phone book, causing a packet of photos to fall onto the floor.  Leaning down, she snatched up the photos, tossed them on the bed, then flipped through the pages of the phone book.  Healy, George.  He was the only one.  She glanced at the clock.  Nine.  Too late to call a stranger.  A stranger!  Maybe she should have thought of that before tumbling into bed with him.  It had been so long.  She reached for the phone, lifted the receiver, then replaced it.  What was she thinking?  Calling a man like that?  It was crazy.  She was just lonely.  She could stop into the bar, casually, see if he were there.  Go all alone?  No, of course not.  Yes she could.  She sighed then and opened the packet of photos.  She had done so much work in such a short time, and it wasn't bad, not bad at all.  When she came to the last photos, she stopped.  They were the Polaroids taken at the mall.  Annabeth paused for a long time, staring at her own image.  Then she reached into the drawer once more, pulling out a separate packet, the one containing the Glamour Poses proofs. Exhausted, she lay back against the pillow until she drifted off to sleep, the photos lying on the bed beside her.

The next evening, Annabeth resolved to see Sally once again.  After work she drove to the apartment Sally shared with Jackson and knocked on the door, carrying a basket of Sally's favorite cookies.  She could hear the stereo playing, then Sally opened the door, surprised to see her.

"Mom," she said quietly, "This isn't a good time."  There was concern on her face.

"Annabeth," said Jackson coming to the door.  At least he was smiling.  "I didn't know you were joining us.  Come on in."

Annabeth smiled and walked through the door, suddenly realizing why Sally had hesitated.  Maggie and Hugh sat on the couch sipping glasses of wine.  It was apparently a dinner party.

Hugh rose from his seat, greeting her warmly with a hug, "Annabeth!  How nice to see you.  It's been too long."

Maggie nodded stiffly, a scowl on her face as Annabeth stood in Hugh's embrace.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt.  You go on without me.  I can stop back by tomorrow."

Hugh looked surprised, but Maggie was clearly relieved she wouldn't be joining them.  Sally, unwilling to embarrass her further, stepped in.  "I had invited Mom but her schedule at work was up in the air so we kept it loose.  Come and sit down, why don't you?  We always have plenty of food, I told you that."

"So how are you?" asked Hugh.  "We've missed you."

"I've missed you too," said Annabeth, looking openly at both Maggie and Hugh.  She scrutinized Maggie's face.  Something flickered across it, but what?

"Let me just check on everything," said Sally.

"I'll help you."  Annabeth followed her daughter into the kitchen, where they could speak privately.  "I'm sorry to just show up like this.  It didn't occur to me you'd be busy."

"It's all right," said Sally.

"I just couldn't stand another day with bad feelings between us."

Sally sighed, "I've been feeling horrible since the whole thing happened.  I haven't been mad at you since I was twelve."

"You were mad at everyone at twelve."  Annabeth smiled.  "You know, I would never disappoint you for the world, but I'm kind of out of my element now, and I don't always know what I will do or what I should do.  I'm really just going on instinct."

"I guess I understand.  Laurel's been after me about the whole thing.  Maybe she's right.  After all, you have a right to be happy."

Annabeth breathed deeply, in relief.  "Oh, hon, you don't know what it means to me to hear you say that."  She reached out and enfolded her daughter in a hug.  "Now should I make an excuse and run off?  Maggie looked like she was ready to drop."

"I don't see how you can do that.  You'll just have to stay.  Make the best of it.  Maybe now Maggie will have to snap out of it."

In a short while they were all seated at Sally's table, eating good food and sharing stilted conversation.

"How're Emma and the kids?" asked Annabeth.

"They're great," said Hugh.  "How's your job?"

"Still kind of fun.  Maggie was in the other day, weren't you?"

Maggie blushed, nodding her head, remaining silent and pointing to her mouth, which didn't appear as full as she implied.

"Soon we'll have to get busy planning the wedding," said Jackson.

Annabeth nodded.  "Still planning to have it outside at our house?"

Maggie's mouth dropped open.  "Outside?  In February?" 

"Maybe it would be too cold," answered Sally.  "I had just thought of that in the summer, but I don't really know yet."

"Wouldn't it be a lot easier to have it at a nice, simple place?" asked Jackson. 

"Oh, probably so," said Sally.  "We'll have to check some places out, I guess."

"What about..." began Annabeth.

"The Rusty Lantern?" asked Maggie.

All eyes turned toward her.  Hugh looked incredulous.  "Are you kidding?"

"Actually I hear it's a really nice place," said Sally.  "With great food."

Annabeth smiled at her daughter.  "I was going to say the Women's Club or the Garden Club.  They both have nice party rooms, don't they?"

"I'll check into it all.  I still like the idea of a tent outside.  I think it would be so pretty to be outdoors with the pine trees all around."

"They rent heaters for outside, don't they?" asked Jackson.

Sally nodded, "I bet they do."

"Will you girls be making all the food again?  That's a big job," said Hugh.

"Oh, no," said Maggie, "I don't think so.  We couldn't possibly."

"I was hoping for an afternoon wedding.  Just some little things, hors d'oeuvres, and of course cake."

"That would be lovely," said Annabeth and Maggie at the same time, causing them to peer into each other's eyes and then turn away.

Later as they were in the kitchen cleaning up, Sally took a deep breath and began to speak, "I don't want to ruin the evening but I just don't understand what's wrong.  We've known each other all our lives.  You're going to be my mother-in-law," she said looking at Maggie, "And all my life you've been like my second mother.  What's wrong?  Why are you so upset with Mom?  Surely it isn't the spoiled Jambalaya for the engagement party?  That just doesn't make sense."

A silence fell.  Annabeth hoped that Sally's comments would make a difference, that at last they could make up.  Maggie opened her mouth to speak, once, twice, then closed it each time.  Finally she said, "I don't know what you mean.  Okay, sure I was upset when that happened, but of course I'm not upset any more.  We've just all been busy."

"I could never be too busy for you.  We've shared our whole lives and now it seems like we're strangers, or worse, enemies," said Annabeth.

"That's silly," answered Maggie.

"Look, I've had enough of this.  I want you two to hug and make up.  How can we plan a nice wedding with all this tension?"

Annabeth and Maggie embraced then, on command, and they even smiled at each other.

"See," said Sally, "Isn't that better?"

Annabeth thought of her daughter's intervention as she drove home.  She smiled to herself softly, thinking of Sally's skills with people and sweet nature.  She would be a wonderful mother.  Annabeth was filled with pride, not just for her daughter, but for herself and the good job she had done raising Sally, and a deep sense of fulfillment flooded her heart.  Then she turned her thoughts to Maggie and she sighed.   Hugging her old friend was like embracing a cigar store Indian.  What was it that Maggie refused to say?  Why was she so determined to end their friendship now when Annabeth needed her the most, and how could she maintain this crazy feud over that party?  She rolled down the window of her car, allowing the night breeze to flow in.  She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to relax and let it all go so she could end the day peacefully.

"You're looking extra pretty today," said Charles on Wednesday.

Annabeth blushed.  "Just a little bit of eye shadow," she mumbled.  She felt like a bonafide femme fatale, wearing makeup to inspire one man to take her to dinner so she could connect with a second.

"It certainly brings out the blue of your eyes."  He examined her carefully. "Seems a shame to waste all that beauty.  Let's have supper, why don't we."

Annabeth didn't hesitate for a moment.  "All right, sure, that would be nice."

Charles reached into his pocket and removed his cellular phone.  He pressed a couple of buttons, then stated, "This thing needs a new battery," and he tossed it behind his pharmacy window.  "Let's go!"

What was she to do now?  His wife couldn't call him, and maybe he'd stay the whole evening.  Even if George were there, she wouldn't be able to talk to him.  What if George tried to talk to her, with Charles right at the table?  Annabeth cringed, but followed Charles out the door.

She sat nervously across from Charles, glancing about.  At least there was no sign of George, but it was early.

"So how's the single life?" Charles asked, probably wondering again about Maggie's comments the previous week.

"Pretty lonely."

"Sometimes I wish I'd had the courage to begin again.  Sara's a wonderful person, but it often seems that we had more in common in the past than we'll ever have in the future."

"I'm sorry to hear that.  Maybe you need to develop some new interests together."

Charles nodded.  "That would be a good idea.  If there were anything either of us wanted to do that the other also wanted."

"What about a trip?"

"I would love to travel more.  If only Sara wanted to."

"A hobby you could share--bridge--golf--something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe.  We never discussed those."

"You folks ready to order?" asked Wanda.  "We have some nice fried catfish tonight.  Ham with sweet potatoes.  Spaghetti and meat balls."

"Catfish sounds good," said Charles.  "And for you?" he gestured toward Annabeth.

"Catfish is great, thanks.  And a glass of water."

"You seemed to enjoy that white wine we had last time.  How about a bottle of that?"

"I thought you didn't like wine."

"It's not so bad."

"Don't buy a whole bottle on my account.  I'm not really a drinker."

"All right then, two catfish plates, two glasses of wine."

"Salads and fries?" asked Wanda.  "Or rice.  We have steamed broccoli."

Charles looked toward Annabeth.  "Rice and broccoli, please."

He nodded, then said, "No, I think fries for me.  And salad.  Not a big broccoli man."

Wanda nodded, then walked toward the kitchen.

"I bet you have lots of men wanting to date you," Charles said abruptly.

Before Annabeth could reply, Doug walked in and came over to their table, offering his hand to Charles.

"This is getting to be a regular thing, isn't it?" asked Charles, gesturing toward a seat at their table.

"I grab a bite here most evenings, then go back to work for a bit."

"That's a long day," commented Annabeth.

"It's not so bad."

Wanda returned, setting plates of catfish with French fries, and salads in front of Annabeth and Charles along with two glasses of white wine.

Annabeth looked down at her plate, shrugged her shoulders and remained silent.

Wanda smiled and asked, "Ready, Doug?"

"I'll have what they're having.  Tanqueray and Tonic, and a glass of ice water, please."

Wanda nodded, disappeared for a short while, then returned with Doug's order.

"Thanks," said Doug, pushing the glass of water toward Annabeth and saying, "I bet you wanted this, didn't you?"

She nodded, smiling at him.  "Thanks, yes I did."

Charles looked toward Annabeth and Doug as though he were weighing what was between them.  "Patsy meeting you?" he asked Doug.

"No, no plans to meet.  Usually I just eat and run."  He turned toward Annabeth and asked, "Furniture painting going well?"

She nodded.  "Yes, thanks.  I did a crafts show this weekend.  It was great."

"That's wonderful."

"I hope you don't get rich too quickly," said Charles with complete seriousness.  "Wouldn't want you running out on me."

Annabeth looked at him.  Something was on his mind.  "Not much chance of that," she said and smiled at him, trying to be kind, but wondering why he was acting so peculiarly.

Wanda returned to the table and said, "Excuse me, Charles, right?"

Charles nodded.

"You have a phone call."

Charles shook his head.  "Excuse me."  He walked to the bar to take the call, then returned to the table.  "Seems my wife has flooded the bathroom.  I guess I need a disguise to go out without being tracked down."  He reached in his pocket, removed a twenty-dollar bill, tossed it onto the table, then said, "Gotta run.  Sorry, Annabeth."

"Thanks for the supper," she replied.  "I hope the flood's not too bad."

Charles clenched his jaw, shaking his head, then added, "See you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Take it easy," said Doug nonchalantly.  "I'm glad I ran into you this evening," he confided to Annabeth after Charles was gone.  "I've been thinking about what you said all week."

"About being competitive?"

"I knew you'd remember.  I wouldn't expect that of most people, you know."  Annabeth smiled at this praise and he continued, "All my life I've been in the shadow of my father and brother.  They're both ladies' men, social, sparkling."

"I remember when your folks split up and your dad married that blonde."

Doug nodded.  "He's had two more since her."

"But you were always a real achiever."

"I guess, but I knew I could never live the party life they lived.  And it seemed that everything I did was sort of to show them.  Including my marriage."

Annabeth looked deeply into Doug's eyes.  The light there was clean and honest and she saw him struggling to uncover the truth of his own reality, something she admired.  "How so?" she asked.

"I married this beautiful, wealthy woman, someone they could never get, someone above them.  The only problem was she always acted like she was above me too. Like she was doing me a favor."

"Do you think it's possible that it was your attitude toward yourself that caused her to respond to you that way?"

"I don't know, probably so.  Don't they say that we create every circumstance in our lives?"

"Who says that?  I just meant that it seems to me you always underrated yourself."

Doug nodded, "Maybe so.  You know, when my dad called me to come back here and help him with the business, I was excited.  I felt like I had the upper hand at last.  Do you think I'm awful for admitting that?"

"Not at all.  And so now things are better for you?"

"I fight with my brother constantly."

"Maybe he feels like you used to--that he's living in your shadow.  After all life here is all he knows.  You had a whole other life in a big city."

"He and my father would have run that business into the ground if I'd let them.  Too much partying, too little care to the important things."

"So it's a pretty big come down for him to see you setting his mistakes to rights, isn't it?"

Doug nodded.

"But you're still angry at him?  Over high school and him being the football hero?"

Doug hesitated, as if he were about to confide something deeper, then said only, "Yes, I guess.  But lately it's a little better."

"It seems to me that if the best part of your life is in high school, the rest of your life must feel like a downwards slide.  Kind of sad, really."  Annabeth paused for a moment, thinking of Grady and his passes at her.  Maybe he was looking for some sort of validation with her?

"You have a lot of wisdom, Annabeth."

"They say it's a lot easier to make sense of someone else's life than your own."

"What's puzzling you in your own life?"

She sighed and peered once more into Doug's eyes, then looked down at her hands, quietly lying in her lap, then back to his gaze, which was kind and unwavering.  "It's awfully hard for me to accept being single.  I mean to feel single.  To know where to go from here."  She gulped and continued, "Sex.  Dating."  Feeling shy for revealing so much, she looked away from Doug, whose eyes were still on her, and across the bar.  George!  He had come in and Annabeth hadn't even noticed.  He was sitting at the far end of the bar, talking to some woman, his hand pressed tightly on top of hers.  Annabeth winced, then looked back toward Doug, who had casually been following her glance, causing her to blush.

"So you slept with someone maybe you wish you hadn't?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

Doug nodded, understanding.  "You got married young.  The truth is you probably need to experiment a little.  This is just a bad time for it."

Annabeth nodded.  Lowering her voice to barely more than a whisper, she said, "My daughter walked in on us.  It was humiliating."

"Children sometimes have difficulty accepting their parents as people, particularly their mothers.  Of course a chain on the door is a good idea."  He smiled after this last bit of advice.

Annabeth nodded.  "I installed one the other day.  Not that I expect to need it."

"Of course you will."

Annabeth looked again toward the bar.  George was massaging the shoulders of the woman next to him.  She sighed and paused, searching for a way to change the subject. "Patsy seems devoted.  How did you meet her?"

"She found me my house.  One thing led to another.  It was really just casual for a long time, but now she keeps after me to move in with her, but I don't know."

"Oh?  She's very beautiful."

Doug nodded, "I know.  But I guess the thing I like best about her is that she thinks I'm this great guy."

"You are a great guy."

"Thanks.  You're a good friend."

"It's hard for me to imagine being in love with someone new."

Doug opened his mouth, and Annabeth was sure he was going to say, Oh, I'm not in love with her.  Instead he volunteered,  "Sometimes just having fun is all you need."

Annabeth shook her head, "Oh, no.  How could fun ever be enough?"

"You're right.  It isn't.  I learned a lot from you tonight.  Thanks."

"Oh go on.  You knew it all along.  I just listened."

"Say, Annabeth," said Doug in a voice that was so quiet she could barely hear him, "Would you like to..."

"Hiya!"  George pressed his hand warmly against Annabeth's shoulder, wresting her attention from Doug and his question.

"Hi," said Doug and Annabeth simultaneously.

Without being asked, George pulled up a chair and sat down.  "How's it going?"

Annabeth looked toward the bar where he had been sitting.  The woman he had been with was now gone.  "Fine."

"Good," said Doug.

"You know, Patsy told me not to let you hang out here too late.  She said not to let you overdo."

"I'm in no danger of that," said Doug, an edge creeping into his voice.  "How's Flora?"

"Who?"

"Flora.  Weren't you two engaged?"

"For about fifteen minutes."

"Then it's Amy now?" 

"Amy?"  George looked off into the distance.  "Oh...Amy.  We're just friends."

Annabeth watched the interaction between the two men.  There was something quite fierce about Doug, something she'd never noticed before.

"Feeling well this evening?" George asked Annabeth, making her blush.

"Yes, thanks, I'm fine.  And you?"

"Actually I was thinking about you.  That newel post on your staircase.  I'm trying to duplicate one similar to that--one that was badly replaced--and I wanted to take another look at yours."

"Well, sure."

"Great."

They sat like that for a couple of hours, exchanging pointless remarks, the two men determined to remain at the table, Annabeth trying to be polite but wondering how to manage the situation.  Didn't it seem as though George wanted to be alone with her?  What was Doug doing?  What had he intended to ask her?  Out of her depth, she floundered along, hoping for an inspiration that would diffuse the tension.

Finally Doug took charge, "It's late.  Let me walk you to your car, Annabeth."

He rose from his seat, tossed some money on the table, and reached to help her out of her chair.

"I'll be happy to do the honors," said George nonchalantly.

"Not necessary at all.  We're old friends."

"Well, I'll walk along with you.  It's a nice night."

When Annabeth drove up to her house, there was a car parked in front of it.  The owner sat casually on one of her porch rockers, a lit cigarette in his hand.

"How did you get here before me?" she asked incredulously.

"Motivation," he said pressing her tightly to him.

Annabeth's breath exited her throat sharply as she leaned into him.  Briefly she remembered the remarks Doug had made, for surely he had been bringing up all those women for a reason, but as George leaned in to kiss her, the thoughts in her mind scrambled and she whispered, "Come inside."