What A Man's Gotta Do. Karen Templeton
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older than me. He’s hardly a boy.”
“So he’s a nice man. Even better. You know if the restaurant’s open for Thanksgiving?”
Mala frowned. “It isn’t. Why?”
“I just wondered if he’s doing anything, that’s all.”
“Oh, dear God,” Mala said, raising her eyes to the heavens. Well, okay, the ceiling, but it was close enough. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“So you should ask him if he’d like to have dinner with us.”
Us. Meaning her parents and Mala and Steve and Sophie—whose first Thanksgiving this would be, since they didn’t do Thanksgiving in Carpathia—and their five kids and her two.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not that mean. Besides, he has other plans.”
“You know this, or you’re only trying to get me off your case?”
“Yes.”
Footsteps creaked overhead. “You know somethin’?” Bev said, “I’ve got half a mind to go up there and ask him myself.”
Mala opened her mouth to protest, when suddenly, she didn’t care anymore. What the hell did it matter to her if Eddie King accepted her mother’s invitation? He certainly didn’t need her protection. And with all those people around, it wasn’t as if they’d even see each other. Probably. Besides, her parents had been inviting strays to holiday dinners for as long as she could remember. So big fat hairy deal.
“Fine,” she said. “Go ask.”
Which Bev did. Mala listened, heard faint voices upstairs, then her mother’s slow, steady descent on the outside stairs.
“You’re right,” Bev said when she came in. “He can’t make it. Says he’s got plans.”
So how come she felt disappointed rather than relieved?
And what kind of holiday plans could a man have who didn’t know anybody in town? And how was this any of her business?
Mala shook herself, yanked open the dishwasher to stack another half dozen dishes inside. “So who was on the phone?” she asked her mother.
“The phone?” her mother said from the kitchen table. “Oh, right. Nobody. A hang up. Which is so rude. Geez. I mean, if you get a wrong number, the least you can do is say ‘sorry’ or something, y’know? And when the hell you gonna get Caller ID, anyway?”
Mala just sighed.
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