“Just sittin’ there in the house, goin’ to waste. No use for it.” He shrugged and glanced at Uma again, his cheeks slightly pink. “Least someone’s enjoyin’ it now.”
“I wish you would let me pay you something for it!”
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head stubbornly, his eyes returning to Uma’s and staying there a beat, then another. The silence lengthened, until Uma’s face started to heat, no doubt matching his.
A glance at her boss showed the woman’s dark eyes darting between them, full of questions and a barely suppressed glee. Oh, lovely. They were the entertainment: reality TV right there in the entryway.
“Come on in, honey. Have a seat. Irma here can whip us up a fresh pitcher of tea.” Uma didn’t bother correcting her—her boss knew exactly what her name was. “Unless you want coffee? She can make a fresh pot.”
“That’s all right. I’m sure Uma’s got better things to do.” His eyes flicked to Uma then away again. “I gotta take off. Just wanted to…” His voice fizzled to leave a silence that he filled with an open-handed gesture, a hundred times more eloquent than his words. Clearly he was a man comfortable in his body, not his speech.
“Thanks again for checking in,” Uma said as brightly as she could. Her voice sounded fake and uncomfortable…a professional voice. The way she used to talk to brides—before. In the kitchen, the phone rang, and with relief, Uma turned to get it.
“Don’t touch it!” the older woman snapped.
“Not answerin’, Ms. Lloyd?”
“Prank callers again.”
Uma opened her mouth. “I could—”
“Leave it be,” Ms. Lloyd said over the last steady, sonorousdring. “Not calling the police out for this, and no way I’m letting some prank caller bully me into changing a number I’ve had for thirty years.”
“Let me—”
“No thank you, Ive. You’ve done enough.”
“Okay then.” Brows raised, he put a hand on the door and tried pulling it open before he remembered it was locked. “I’m right next door if you need anything.” He turned to Uma. “If the boss lady here ever gives you time off, come on by for a visit.”
“Sure.”
“All right.” He cleared his throat, stepped onto the porch, and waved. “Take care, Ms. Lloyd. Call if you need anything.”
Uma watched briefly from the open doorway as he loped off, taking the porch stairs three at a time. His dog appeared from around the side of the house and fell into step beside him, tail wagging furiously.
As soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, Uma turned to find her boss crowding her, leaning heavily on her cane. “Youdidflirt with him, didn’t you? Did you invite him to come over and see you? I won’t have it. Men coming and going with you half-naked at the door.”
Uma squeezed by her,trulyangry at the woman for the first time. It was a more solid, honest emotion than she had experienced in days, maybe longer. It was good, clean. Real.
“I didn’t invite him over. I barely saidanythingto him.” The thought that she’d want to bring men into her life when she was running herself into the ground trying to escape one would have been laughable if it didn’t make her so angry.
Ms. Lloyd stared at her with all the power of those wide, disconcerting eyes.
“Frankly, I wouldn’t flirt withany man, all right? Especially not a married one,” Uma went on. “That’s not the type of person I am.”
“You think—” Ms. Lloyd cut herself off midsentence. “As long as we understand each other. I won’t have a home-wrecker living under my roof.”
Whatever. The woman had no idea who Uma was or what she’d been through. No idea, damn it. “I’m not ahome-wrecker.” Uma gathered up as much dignity as she could and stalked off toward the kitchen, towel swishing dramatically about her knees.
“And make me lunch, Irma. I’m hungry,” Ms. Lloyd called after her.
* * *
Ms. Lloyd was not a particularly nice person. By the end of Uma’s first full day, that was apparent. But, despite being a pain in the ass of epic proportions, the woman wasn’t nearly as threatening as her ad had insinuated. World’s bitchiest agoraphobe, maybe, but abusive hag? Not so far. Something didn’t quite jibe, and waiting for the other shoe to drop kept Uma on constant tenterhooks.
On tenterhookswas a perfect description of her life since Joey. Long months spent running, always on the lookout, constantly wary. Utterly exhausted.
But for once, she wasn’t running or looking over her shoulder, and that letdown, that release—along with the stress of dealing with Ms. Lloyd—turned Uma into a complete wreck by nightfall.
