Chapter 37
I glanced behind me and stifled a groan. Sure enough, there she was, an overly thin woman with short, brown hair – Loretta.
Today she wore tailored slacks, a cream-colored blouse, and her usual scowl as she barreled down the driveway toward me.
With a sigh, I turned back to the car and slammed the trunk before leaning against it. She came closer, holding an official-looking clipboard.
Her scowl deepened. "Well, are you?" she said.
Up to my usual tricks? Honestly, I had no idea. "What tricks?" I asked.
"Do I really have to spell everything out for you?" She gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I'm referring to your leaving without stopping by."
"I tried to stop by," I said. "No one answered."
It was true. After the hassle Loretta gave me last time, I had literally forced myself to knock on their front door first, before setting one foot inside Grandma's cottage.
"Besides," I said, "aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Aren't you?" she said.
"No. I work nights, remember?"
She pursed her lips. "There's no need to get snippy."
We could go around like this for hours. I so didn't have the time or energy. I glanced at the house. "So, uh, you want me to stop by, now?"
Please say no, please say no, please say no.
"Not necessary," she said. "Your father isn't home."
If it wasn't necessary, why was she giving me grief? Oh yeah, because she could. That's why.
"Oh," I said.
"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
"What am I supposed to say? That I'm sorry?"
"Not if that's the best you can do." She looked down at my clothing. "Please tell me you're not wearing that for Thanksgiving."
I glanced down at my jeans and turtleneck. I looked respectable enough. "Are we dressing up?" I asked.
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"No. It's a real question. Are we?"
She gave a little sniff. "Well, we certainly are. Out of respect for this house, I would think you would want to do the same."
What I wanted to do was grab her by the hair and slam her face into my trunk. What I did do was nod. "Alright, I'll dress up."
"And you will be bringing the salad?"
"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought I was bringing the dessert."
She gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "Must we do this again?"
"What again?"
With a shake of her head, she raised the clipboard and ran a long finger down a printed spreadsheet. Halfway down, she stopped. "Here," she said with a decisive finger-tap. "Chloe, salad." She looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Are you Chloe?"
"I dunno," I said. "Is that a rhetorical question?"
"Oh for Heaven's sake," she said. "Must everything be a joke with you?"
"I wasn't joking," I said. Well, okay, I was. But nothing about this seemed remotely funny to me. When it came to Loretta, I'd lost my sense of humor years ago.
"So," I said, "you want me to bring a salad?"
"Yes," she said in a tone of forced civility. "A salad would be lovely. Thank you."
Too bad the salad wasn't only for her. I'd have Chucky take a big crap in it. Then I'd feed it to her with a shovel. Now, that would be lovely.
"And what," she said, "is so funny now?"
"Nothing," I said. "Salad. Got it."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she said, before turning on her heels and heading back toward the house.
I was driving home when my cell phone rang. Desperate for a return call from the Parkers, I lunged for it and checked the display.
Lawton. Today was Friday, and he'd be home in three days. He'd been calling me every night. I loved hearing from him, and things would be even nicer when we could do more than just talk.
Still, as happy as I was to hear from him in the middle of the day, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this wasn't the call I'd been desperate to receive.
I pressed the button. "Hello?"
"What's wrong?" he said.
"Nothing."
"Alright." He was quiet for a beat, and then said, "Got any plans for tonight?"
I had the night off, not that it would do any good. He was in Vegas, and I was here. "Not really," I said. "Why?"
"Because I've gotta be honest. I couldn't wait to see you."
"You came back early?" I said.
"You might say that."
I laughed. "What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, "that I'll be landing in a couple hours. I've got to be back in Vegas tomorrow morning, but I remembered you had tonight off, so—"
My trouble with the Parkers suddenly faded into the background. "So you want to get together?" I said.
"Yeah. But listen, no more hiding out in secret. You're my girl, and from now on, I'm doing things right. How about I'll pick you up at seven?"
I smiled into the phone. "Sounds good. But hey, what should I wear?"
"What kind of night are you in the mood for?" he said. "Casual, formal?"
As far as clothing, I preferred nothing. Just the thought of his naked body gyrating against mine was enough to make my mouth water. But he was right. Hiding out in secret hadn't gotten us very far.
"How about casual?" I said.
"Casual, it is." His voice lowered. "And Chloe?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't care what you wear. I'm dying to see you."