Practice Husband. Judith McWilliams
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“Don’t be facetious,” she said. “I’m serious. Will you help me?” She held her breath, mentally willing him to do it.
Joe stared down into the melting ice cubes in his drink for a long moment and then said, “As I was saying, I need your land now.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Addy felt her spirits sink.
“There is a way around it, though,” he said slowly. “I live in the old Iverson place.”
“I think I remember it. Isn’t it that huge old Queen Anne place sitting on most of a city block over on North Washington?”
“That’s it. It was in pretty bad shape when I bought it, and I had it virtually rebuilt inside. There was also a housekeeper’s cottage in the back by the garage that was redone at the same time. But, since I prefer my privacy, I use a cleaning service and the cottage has never been occupied. You could stay there.”
Addy was taken aback by his offer. Apparently he didn’t think that she was enough of a threat to his privacy to matter. For some reason the thought rankled. Just once, she’d like a man to consider her a massive threat to his peace of mind. Someday, she promised herself. And accepting Joe’s offer was the first step on the road to that someday. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her focus on the future and not the past and said, “It’s a deal.”
“I’ll have my lawyers draw up the papers first thing in the morning, and you can stop by the plant about ten and sign them.”
Addy chuckled. “You mean, here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”
“The sooner you sign, the sooner I can get started on the new plant,” he defended himself. “Also the sooner we can get started on your project.” His eyes narrowed, and he stared past her.
Addy, who was coming to recognize what she thought of as his thinking mode, waited.
“Maybe we ought to go,” he finally said.
“Go?” Addy frowned. “Go where?”
“To the Wheelings’ party. It’ll give you a chance to look over the competition.”
“How so?” Addy asked, not understanding.
“If the party is to reintroduce Warren to the social scene, then it makes sense that all the eligible women that the Wheelings know will be there.”
“Clever.” Addy gave credit where it was due. “But I would have thought that you already know the competition?” She couldn’t resist the gentle probe into his private life.
“I haven’t the time for parties. Nor the stomach,” he said bitterly. “You know damn well Cookie Wheeling would never have invited me if it weren’t for my money. She practically held her skirts away from me in school when I passed her in the halls so that I wouldn’t contaminate her.”
Addy felt her heart twist at his revealing words. Somehow, she’d never thought of Joe as caring what the others thought of him. But obviously she’d been wrong.
“Joe...” she began, not sure what she should say. What she could say. Only knowing that she wanted to ease his pain.
A wry smile curved his lips. “Please, spare me the consoling homily.”
“I wasn’t going to give you one. I was merely going to point out that people change. Everything changes.”
“Yeah, particularly my financial worth.”
“Quit harping about your money!”
“Why not, when it’s my major appeal to people?”
“And don’t talk in generalities! I could give a hang about your money.”
“Which makes you the exception that proves the rule.”
Addy shook her head in annoyance and gave up. He wasn’t going to listen to her. Maybe she could find some way of showing him. It would be a fitting reward for helping her.
“About the Wheelings’ party,” Joe persisted.
Addy bit back her instinctive refusal and tried to think. If she was going to find a husband, then sooner or later she was going to have to face the social scene. It might as well be sooner. And Joe would be there. Her spirits rose fractionally. She wouldn’t have to face the situation on her own.
“I think you’re right,” she finally said.
“I usually am,” he said with a smugness that made her smile. Joe was such a strange mixture. She had never really realized what a complex man he was. Getting to know him again was going to be an intriguing process.
Three
“Change is the essence of life,” Addy muttered to herself as she closed the back door of her parents’ home behind her and headed toward her car. Climbing behind the wheel, she turned on the ignition and pulled away.
Unable to resist the temptation, she stopped at the end of the driveway and stared back at the house. For a moment, an overwhelming feeling of grief filled her at all that she’d lost. Of the people who had lived there that she’d never see again. Then the feeling of intense sadness ebbed, leaving room for memories to surface. Memories of sitting beside her grandmother at the kitchen table and sneaking sips of her coffee when her mother wasn’t looking. Memories of her mother standing at the stove cooking supper while Addy perched on a stool and told her all about her school day. Memories of sitting on the old rocker on the front porch and waiting for her father to come home from work.
Addy closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of warmth and love that always came when she thought of her parents. It was a feeling she could call up anytime, she suddenly realized. The feeling was part of her. She didn’t need the house to bring it to mind.
Addy nodded decisively, feeling fractionally better about her decision to sell. It really was time to move on. She pulled out into the road. Would her children someday remember her with the same sense of happiness with which she remembered her parents? She pondered the unsettling idea as she covered the short distance to Joe’s plant.
The visitors’ parking spaces in front of the plant were filed, so Addy drove around to the back of the building and parked there. Making sure that her car door was locked, she started toward the offices, only to pause when she noticed a sign that said Nurse’s Office. Wondering what kind of facilities Joe provided for his workers, Addy pushed the door open and stepped inside.
She found herself in a starkly sterile room. The walls were painted an antiseptic white and an institutional light gray tile covered the floor. Except for six gray plastic chairs lined up against the wall, the room was empty. There were no magazines, no plants. Nothing to relieve the oppressive barrenness.
Addy shivered. It might be adequate for treating the body, but the room was a total flop at providing comfort to the senses.
Curious as to what type of person was content to work in these bleak surroundings, Addy walked toward the open door at the back of the room labeled Nurse. She was about to knock when she heard a sharp, feminine voice from inside snap, “No! It isn’t my job.”
The woman was answered by a softly apologetic male voice, “But I just want to know what to do about all the ear infections my son has.”
“My job is to treat accidents that occur in the workplace, not to be giving you advice on raising your kids.”
Addy frowned. What kind of nurse had Joe hired? Any professional worth her salt should be happy to pass on any health information that might help.
“Go see a doctor,” the woman continued, “and quit wasting my time.”
“I have.” The man’s voice sharpened. “But he just prescribes something and, when I try to get information, he brushes me off.”
Rather like the nurse here, Addy thought.
“That’s