Read Online Cool Water by Dianne Warren - Free Book Online Page A

asks in the dark.
    â€œI have my own list,” Lila says. “One person can’t plan a wedding.”
    â€œWhat about the blushing bride?” Norval asks. “Perhaps there are one or two things she might do to help out.”
    â€œDon’t be sarcastic,” Lila says. “She has a job. She’s busy. Anyway, you know how tired she is. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you have to be a woman to know just how tired pregnancy can make you.”
    â€œI thought we were ignoring her ‘condition’,” Norval says.
    â€œWe’re not ignoring it within these walls. Don’t be ridiculous.”
    â€œWell, she didn’t seem that tired yesterday,” Norval says. “I walked by the swimming pool and there she was, prancing around in a string bikini, her little belly on display. Don’t they have rules of conduct for lifeguards? A dress code of some kind?”
    â€œThey’re not called string bikinis any more,” Lila says. “You’re so old-fashioned. Anyway, she’s not showing yet. She has no ‘little belly,’ as you put it.”
    â€œYou’re in denial, Lila. One look and a blind man could tell.”
    Without realizing he’s doing it, Norval pulls the sheet up to his chin. It has something to do with the idea of his daughter showing. “So what about Kyle’s mother?” he asks. “Can’t she lend a hand?”
    â€œMrs. Hoffert is lovely, but this is the bride’s family’s responsibility. You can’t weasel out that way, Norval.”
    Lila’s acting like this wedding is the most important event in the history of the town, Norval thinks, when in fact he sees it, well, not so much as a disaster, nothing is final these days, but as a mistake that will be evident before the guests have eaten their good-luck slivers of wedding cake. He wants to suggest again that the marriage take place cheaply and quietly, and that they spend the money to celebrate in a year’s time if the future looks promising then. When he suggested this the first time, his wife and daughter in unison called him a tightwad and dismissed the idea without consideration.
    Norval sighs audibly, tucking the sheet around his neck as though he’s in a body bag with his head sticking out.
    â€œIn case you hadn’t noticed,” he says, “I too have a job. I too have a list, and a rather long one.” He tries to picture his desk calendar, the one he’s refused to replace with a PDA, and wonders who will be the first to enter his office at the bank in the morning playing a sympathy card and asking for more money or more time. And he’s pretty sure he has school board business sometime after lunch, the interview of the only qualified applicant for the job of Home Economics teacher. Waiting in the wings is the righteous Mrs. Baxter, owner of Norval’s favourite rooster, who has been trying to get her hands on the job for the last ten years even though she doesn’t have a teaching certificate. He can only hope the qualified applicant isn’t covered in tattoos. If she’s at all acceptable, they’ll have to hire her or face the teachers’ union.
    Lila says, “I want you to talk to someone at the church. The foyer absolutely must be redecorated, and I don’t just mean a coat of paint. They’ll listen to you, Norval. You’re an important person in the community and, besides, you’re a man.”
    Important, hah, Norval thinks to himself. Important, when his job description includes foreclosure on properties that have been in the family for close to a hundred years. Tolling the death knell for people like Blaine Dolson—who has found work on the road crew, thank God for that, he has a half-dozen kids to support.
    What would happen, Norval wonders, if he just stayed in bed, didn’t go to the bank on Main Street, just pulled the sheets over his head and stayed in bed until noon,