Read Online Maybe This Time by Jennifer Crusie - Free Book Online Page B

please.”
    â€œThat’s going to cost you,” Kristin said.
    It’s the only thing she’s asked for in the entire time I’ve known her.
“Get it for her. Also find a good contractor down there and have him go out to talk to her, not to Mrs. Crumb. And call the phone company and find out why they lose service and if there’s anything we can do about it. Bills to come here.”
    Kristin nodded. “And Mrs. Nash in the waiting room?”
    â€œGive me a couple of minutes,” North said, and Kristin nodded again and went out.
    Andie had never asked for anything. He’d kept waiting for her to, it was crazy of her not to, to ask for a house instead of his apartment in the attic of the family’s Victorian—he’d heard her bitching at the stove once and sent in people to redo the kitchen for her—for a car instead of public transportation—he’d surprised her with a bright yellow Mustang and she’d loved it—hell, for an engagement ring and a decent wedding ring—he’d tried to give her a good ring once and she’d insisted on keeping that damn green band—but she’d just gone on with her life, tromping around in those crazy skirts and tight tank tops, her hair wild no matter how much she fought it, arguing with him, laughing with him, falling into bed with him . . .
    He closed his eyes and thought,
I really was an idiot.
    He just wasn’t sure if he’d been an idiot for marrying her or for letting her go.
    Not that it mattered anymore. She was gone, and he had a client to interview. He punched a button on the intercom and said, “I’ll see Mrs. Nash now,” and went back to work.

Three
    After North hung up, Andie put more coins in the phone and called Flo and told her everything was fine, and then called Will and said the same thing, but he wasn’t as easily put off.
    â€œHave you talked to North?” he said.
    â€œYes,” she said. “I asked him to get us cable.”
    â€œI wish you weren’t talking to him.”
    â€œI’d talk to Satan to get cable,” Andie said, and changed the subject, giving him half her attention while she watched Alice lean against Carter’s arm, sitting as close to him as possible. “I have to go,” she said when they’d finished their ice cream, and then realized she’d interrupted him in mid-sentence. “Sorry, the kids . . . I have to go.” She hung up and went back to collect the kids, taking a phone number tab from a flyer for the Happy Housekeepers cleaning service she found on the Dairy Queen’s bulletin board. She lost the kids again as soon as she stopped the car on the flagstones behind the house, Carter taking the bookstore bags and Alice dragging the bags of clothes and office supplies. Andie took everything else into the kitchen and put the food away, taking a surprised satisfaction in seeing the fridge andcupboards fill up. Then she took the rest of the bags upstairs, dropped Carter’s striped comforter off in his room without getting so much as a glance from him, and took Alice’s blue comforter into the nursery where she set up her sewing machine, tore the sequined chiffon into strips, and sewed the strips all over the comforter.
    Then she went to Alice’s room, knocked on the door, and said, “Alice, I have your comforter.”
    â€œCome in,” Alice said, suspicion heavy in her voice, and Andie opened the door and went in.
    Alice watched critically as Andie pulled the old pink bedspread off and shook the glittery blue comforter out, snapping it over her bed and making the chiffon strips flutter and gleam as it settled. Alice looked closer at it. “It should have swirls,” she told Andie.
    â€œSwirls.”
    â€œLike dancing. I’ll do it with my marker.” Alice narrowed her eyes.
“Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” Andie said. “You do that, and I’ll go