Hudson:No worries. I’ll just cross fingers I’ll get you out of those things about five minutes after I get home from work.
Me: We’ll see…
Me: How about pasta for supper? I’ll cook.
I know he’s got everything in his fridge to make chicken piccata. Even capers. That was one of Mom’s favorites.
Hudson:That sounds great. Thanks, babe.
Me:See you tonight. ;)
* * *
If I toldyou Monday was the highlight of my week, would you feel sorry for me? Well, it was. Tuesday through Thursday was more of the same. I’d wake up to an empty house. I’d check for any messages about jobs, and I’d search and apply for anything for which I remotely qualified. Hell, I even applied at the coffee shop down the street from my old place when I went home to get a few things. No luck there either. Besides those things, I read and stared out Hudson’s huge windows and waited for him to come home, usually late thanks to meetings or last-minute fires to put out.
On Friday, I had my fill of lying about. I needed to get up and do something productive. I used my new cell phone to apply for the job in Iowa. Hudson’s right. That job would complicate things, but at this point, I’m desperate.
I showered and dressed in an old jeans skirt that barely buttons, a pink tank top, and a pair of flip-flops.I’ve decided to treat myself with a refreshing drink from an expensive coffee shop around the block. I’ve got a coupon for a free beverage burning a hole in my pocket, and I figure it could help cheer me up a little.
Giving Barney a little head pat, I grab my purse and new phone. Just as I’m making my way out the door, it rings. My heart starts to beat like crazy in my chest because this could be one of the fifty jobs I applied for this week. Grasping it from the bottom of my purse, I quickly answer sort of breathlessly. “Hello.”
“Yes. My name is Michelle. Did you know your car warranty has run out?”
“Shit.” I press the red button three times making sure I’ve hung up on them. Still, I yell into the phone, “I don’t own a car.” You jerks. Dropping the phone back in my bag, it rings again. Tempted to ignore it, I blow out a frustrated sigh and answer it anyway. “Yeah?”
Rude, I know.
“Willa?”
“Bonnie?” How did she…?
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“You have?”
“Yeah. I finally called Hudson at his fancy company.” She sounds rather breathless.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Shit. Has. Hit. The. Fan. Here.”
“At McAllister?”
“Yes.” It sounds like she’s running.
“Are you jogging or something?”
“I ran down the back stairs so no one would hear me.”
“What’s going on? Tell me.”
“Spencer is gone. G-O-N-E.Gone.”
“He is? Why?”
“Oh. Em. Gee.Willa.” She pants some more.
“Are you okay? You sound like you’re stroking out.” I giggle, and yes, I know it’s probably at Spencer’s expense. I’m okay with that.
