This Matter Of Marriage

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I promise to have the money back by tomorrow. You have my word on that.”

He grinned. “I said not to worry about it.”

“At this point, it’s a matter of pride.” She turned away and limped toward her own condo. It took him a moment to realize the heel on one of her shoes had broken off.

“Hallie?” he called out, curiosity getting the better of him. “Do you want to come in for coffee and tell me what happened?”

She paused, and he knew she was tempted to accept. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. I’m fine, really. It was just a date gone bad.”

“From Dateline?”

“No. I decided against…I didn’t sign up with them. This was a date arranged by a friend. A former friend.” She filled in a few of the details: the questions, the restaurant bill, the car. He listened sympathetically, nodding now and then, marveling at her ability to laugh at her situation.

“Don’t let it get you down,” he advised.

“I won’t,” she said, and although she looked disheveled and pitiful, she managed a weak smile. “It’d take more than a pudgy accountant to do that.”

“Good girl.” He waited until she was all the way inside her house before he closed his own door. Only then, did he allow himself to laugh. He had to hand it to Hallie McCarthy. The lady had grit.

“What’s so funny?” Todd asked Steve the following morning.

“What makes you think anything’s funny?” Steve leaned over a pile of metal shavings to avoid meeting his friend’s gaze. Todd was right; his mood had greatly improved. It was because of Hallie, he suspected. Every time he thought about her and that jerk accountant, he found himself grinning from ear to ear. No wonder he wasn’t eager to get back into the dating scene. It made far more sense to win back his ex-wife. He only hoped Mary Lynn met up with a few of Hallie’s rejects. Then maybe she’d realize he wasn’t so bad, after all.

“You’ve been wearing this silly grin all day.” Obviously Todd wasn’t about to let the subject drop.

“Would you rather I stormed around making unreasonable demands?”

“Nope,” Todd admitted. Then he shrugged. “You ready for lunch?”

“Sure.” Steve packed his own now, same as he had when he was married—which meant he picked up something at the deli on his way into work. He and Todd headed for the small room adjacent to his office, stopping to let Mrs. Applegate, his new secretary, know he was taking his lunch break. She was working out well. He’d found her through a business college. She was older, described as a displaced homemaker, whatever that meant. But Mrs. Applegate appreciated the job and worked hard.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee with your lunch?” she asked.

“Please.”

“That woman’s going to spoil you,” Todd commented as he sat down across from Steve. He pulled a submarine sandwich from his lunch pail and peeled away the wrapper.

“I’m going to let her, too.” In comparison to Danielle and Mary Lynn, Mrs. Applegate was a paragon—organized, efficient, cooperative. He wondered how he’d ever managed without her.

“Now tell me what’s so damn funny,” Todd said after the coffee had been served. “I could use a good laugh.”

“My neighbor.” Steve could see no reason not to relay the events of the night before. “Apparently she’s on the hunt for a husband.”

“What’s she look like?”

“Why? You interested?”

Todd took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed vigorously as he considered his response. “I might be.”

“You? It wasn’t so long ago you told me you wanted nothing to do with women.”

“Some women. Go on, I want to hear what happened to your neighbor.”

“She got me out of bed at eleven-thirty last night and asked to borrow twenty bucks. The guy she’d been with acted obnoxious all evening—even made her pay for her own meal. Plus he had car trouble, blamed it on her, then dumped her on the freeway and told her to find her own way home. Which she did.”

“Good for her.”

“That’s what I said.” He bit into his pastrami-on-rye and found himself smiling again as he recalled Hallie’s story. She’d done a hilarious imitation of this Marv guy demanding his forty-something dollars.

“You like this neighbor of yours, don’t you?”

“Like? What do you mean?” Sure he liked Hallie. What wasn’t to like? But he had no romantic interest in her, and there was a difference.

“Are you going to ask her out?”

“Naw,” he answered, dismissing the suggestion. “She’s not my type.”

“Exactly what is your type?” Todd pressed.

“Damned if I know.” The only woman he’d ever loved had been Mary Lynn. She was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d ever thought about. That wasn’t going to change.

His answer appeared to satisfy Todd, who nodded. “Same way I feel. I might date again, and I might not. Sure as hell, the minute I start getting serious about a woman I’ll run into problems, just like I did last time. So I figure, if I meet someone, fine. Great. But I’m not going out of my way.”

Steve frowned as he listened to Todd. It distressed him that Mary Lynn seemed to be involved with another man, and according to his kids, had been dating for some time.

“You look upset,” Todd remarked.

Steve set his sandwich aside, his appetite gone. “Mary Lynn’s seeing someone.”

“I know, you told me earlier. You’ve been divorced a year or better—what did you expect?”

“I expected her to see the light,” Steve muttered.

“Well, it’s not going to happen. She wanted out of the marriage. And as far as I can see, nothing’s changed.”

“When did you become an expert on my relationship with my ex-wife?” Steve asked irritably. They’d had this discussion before, and it irked him that his friend saw things differently. More than anyone, Todd knew he hadn’t wanted the divorce. More than anyone, Todd knew he loved Mary Lynn as much now as he had the day they’d married.

Todd threw up his hands in disgust. “Let’s drop it, all right? I butted in where I didn’t belong. You want to moon over Mary Lynn, for the rest of your life, then be my guest.”

Seven

Make Mine A Double

“D onnalee Cooper’s holding for you on line two,” Bonnie said. Hallie stared at the blinking phone. It wouldn’t help to put it off any longer. Her friend had a right to know—even to gloat.

“Hi, Donnalee,” she said with forced cheerfulness.