Read Online A Stiff Critique by Jaqueline Girdner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jaqueline Girdner
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Thursday evening, and hung up.
*
By Thursday evening, I had lowered the unpaid bills stack by two-thirds and was reviewing a new stack of questionable orders. The doorbell chimed.
I grabbed my purse off the pinball machine on the way to the door, expecting Carrie. She had never told me exactly what time the emergency meeting was supposed to be. I opened the door, ready to ask her.
“Hey there, Kate,” the man in the doorway greeted me. He was a long, lean, handsome man with large puppy-dog brown eyes. My ex-husband, Craig. “Thought I might drag you off to dinner.”
He walked quickly through the doorway into the entry hall and peeked into my office. “Or maybe we could go to a Workaholics Anonymous meeting,” he finished with a laugh.
He stopped laughing abruptly when he noticed that I hadn’t joined in. Then he opened his puppy-dog eyes even wider. He turned to survey the living room.
“Still looks the same,” he whispered sadly.
Guilt twinged in my chest before I could harden myself.
Then I remembered that Craig had once described this living room as a “goddamn jungle complete with library.” And he was wrong anyway. It didn’t still look the same. The rug was still beige and the walls were still white, but the potted plants had grown even taller and wider, more books spilled from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and the hanging chairs hung lower with age. And there were only two pinball machines in the living room now to commemorate our long-gone business. Craig had taken the other four when he moved out, and kept them as part of our divorce settlement.
I crossed my arms and tightened my lips into a frown.
Craig looked down at the floor for a moment, then reached into his pocket.
“I brought you a model,” he said softly and pulled out a computer chip. “For your bug design.”
He smiled hopefully at me. I took a breath and reminded myself that encouraging him was cruel in the long run. Then I thanked him for the chip and said goodbye.
“But—” he began.
“Goodbye,” I repeated firmly.
“Have you heard the new joke about the computer programmer and the nun—” he tried again.
The third goodbye did the trick.
I leaned against the front door and listened to Craig’s footsteps going down the front stairs, suddenly remembering another time when he had left. When he had left for good. My gut tightened. Then the doorbell rang again.
I jerked the door open, ready to shout.
But this time it really was Carrie. She gave me a quick hug, then hustled me out the door and into her Honda Accord without further ceremony. She told me the emergency group meeting was going to be held at Mave’s house in the town of Hutton. The same town where Slade had lived. And we were running late.
“The theme of Hutton is money,” she lectured as she zipped up the highway. “Class comes into it too. And of course, beauty and the very best of taste…”
She was still lecturing ten minutes later as she guided her Accord down the wide, nearly empty, tree-shaded streets of Hutton. “According to Police Chief Gilbert, there is no crime problem here. Hutton’s citizens are certainly the wealthiest in Marin County, which is saying a lot. I understand you can’t buy a house in Hutton for less than a million these days.” She slowed the car as we passed Slade’s house, then pointed. But she was pointing at the other side of the street.
My eyes followed her finger to a rambling, two-story redwood home set back tastefully behind a lush green sea of lawn and flower beds where immense dahlias bloomed in strict rows. A much smaller building sat off to the side, surrounded by more dahlias.
“Nan rents the former maid’s quarters,” Carrie went on, and I realized she had been pointing to the smaller building. “She pays more than two thousand dollars a month for the privilege.” I looked more closely at Nan’s home as we passed.
“Two thousand for that tiny place?” I breathed. “It can’t be anywhere
*
By Thursday evening, I had lowered the unpaid bills stack by two-thirds and was reviewing a new stack of questionable orders. The doorbell chimed.
I grabbed my purse off the pinball machine on the way to the door, expecting Carrie. She had never told me exactly what time the emergency meeting was supposed to be. I opened the door, ready to ask her.
“Hey there, Kate,” the man in the doorway greeted me. He was a long, lean, handsome man with large puppy-dog brown eyes. My ex-husband, Craig. “Thought I might drag you off to dinner.”
He walked quickly through the doorway into the entry hall and peeked into my office. “Or maybe we could go to a Workaholics Anonymous meeting,” he finished with a laugh.
He stopped laughing abruptly when he noticed that I hadn’t joined in. Then he opened his puppy-dog eyes even wider. He turned to survey the living room.
“Still looks the same,” he whispered sadly.
Guilt twinged in my chest before I could harden myself.
Then I remembered that Craig had once described this living room as a “goddamn jungle complete with library.” And he was wrong anyway. It didn’t still look the same. The rug was still beige and the walls were still white, but the potted plants had grown even taller and wider, more books spilled from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and the hanging chairs hung lower with age. And there were only two pinball machines in the living room now to commemorate our long-gone business. Craig had taken the other four when he moved out, and kept them as part of our divorce settlement.
I crossed my arms and tightened my lips into a frown.
Craig looked down at the floor for a moment, then reached into his pocket.
“I brought you a model,” he said softly and pulled out a computer chip. “For your bug design.”
He smiled hopefully at me. I took a breath and reminded myself that encouraging him was cruel in the long run. Then I thanked him for the chip and said goodbye.
“But—” he began.
“Goodbye,” I repeated firmly.
“Have you heard the new joke about the computer programmer and the nun—” he tried again.
The third goodbye did the trick.
I leaned against the front door and listened to Craig’s footsteps going down the front stairs, suddenly remembering another time when he had left. When he had left for good. My gut tightened. Then the doorbell rang again.
I jerked the door open, ready to shout.
But this time it really was Carrie. She gave me a quick hug, then hustled me out the door and into her Honda Accord without further ceremony. She told me the emergency group meeting was going to be held at Mave’s house in the town of Hutton. The same town where Slade had lived. And we were running late.
“The theme of Hutton is money,” she lectured as she zipped up the highway. “Class comes into it too. And of course, beauty and the very best of taste…”
She was still lecturing ten minutes later as she guided her Accord down the wide, nearly empty, tree-shaded streets of Hutton. “According to Police Chief Gilbert, there is no crime problem here. Hutton’s citizens are certainly the wealthiest in Marin County, which is saying a lot. I understand you can’t buy a house in Hutton for less than a million these days.” She slowed the car as we passed Slade’s house, then pointed. But she was pointing at the other side of the street.
My eyes followed her finger to a rambling, two-story redwood home set back tastefully behind a lush green sea of lawn and flower beds where immense dahlias bloomed in strict rows. A much smaller building sat off to the side, surrounded by more dahlias.
“Nan rents the former maid’s quarters,” Carrie went on, and I realized she had been pointing to the smaller building. “She pays more than two thousand dollars a month for the privilege.” I looked more closely at Nan’s home as we passed.
“Two thousand for that tiny place?” I breathed. “It can’t be anywhere
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