Read Online Talk of the Town by Mary Kay McComas - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Kay McComas
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cared how she looked. Then she frowned down on the little black smudge across the toe of the white sneakers she'd put on, hoping she'd feel lighter on her feet when the time came.
This was exactly why she didn't date. A lot of trouble and fuss for nothing. She'd mention this to Harley tomorrow, she decided, walking into the living room.
"Look, Mom. Flowers," Harley said, grinning, indicating the clay pot in Gary's hands. One leaf and a thin green stub of a stem protruded from the center of it. "Eventually."
"It's a-refugee," Gary told her, his expression announcing his delight in seeing her again. "A little love and kindness, and it'll be a red begonia someday."
How appropriate.
Rose tucked her tongue into her cheek and graciously accepted the near dead vegetation without comment—however, both Harley and Gary saw the amusement in her eyes and knew it was a favorable omen.
He hadn't been sure of the reception he'd get. Earlier she had thrust his plate of meatloaf into his hands and promptly disappeared into the kitchen while he ate. His new friend Danny O'Brian had passed him some meaningful glances in relation to the amount of noise she'd made with the pots and pans, but she hadn't even said good-bye when he left.
Rose set the grocery store reject in the kitchen window where it could catch the morning sun—and where she might remember to water it once in a while. She took a moment to collect herself.
She didn't want to enjoy Gary Albright or his silly sense of humor. She didn't want to like him or the pleasurable feelings he stirred in her. She was determined not to have a good time in his company. Let's face it, what woman in her right mind, who wasn't looking for a relationship in the first place, would choose to go out with a garbageman?
Hmmm. On the other hand, who else would she go out with? Who would be safer? Now, that was a consoling thought. If she started to feel the slightest bit attracted to him, all she had to do was remind herself that he was a garbageman.
Not that there was anything wrong with garbagemen as a whole, mind you. And she was sure there was an auxiliary association of garbagemen's wives somewhere, too. She simply wasn't interested in joining.
“You have plenty of gas?" she heard Harley asking.
"Yes, sir," Gary answered, playing along good-naturedly.
"I want her home in time to fix my lunch for school tomorrow. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
She watched Harley slip an arm around her date's shoulder and turn him away, speaking in hushed tones. Her face burned hot as a torch when Gary nodded another "yes, sir" and patted the wallet in his rear pants pocket with his hand.
"Harley, honey," she said, taking his hand to lead him away, refusing to hear Gary's chuckle, avidly avoiding the expression on his face. She led her only son back to the kitchen, muttering, "You will not live to see morning." Adding in a louder voice, "Don't forget that you need to cook supper for you and Grampa. I left the directions there on the counter. Follow them."
An inch or two taller than she, he bent his head to her and whispered, "Do you have a quarter in your sock ... just in case?"
She stuck a finger in his face and wordlessly told him that he'd crossed the line. By several miles.
He grinned. "Try to have fun," he whispered with an impulsive peck to her cheek
"You are the worst son I've ever had, but I love you anyway," she told him.
"Yo, Gary," he said, turning away from her. "Remember what I told you, man."
"Yes, sir."
Rose sighed a mother's sigh and reached for her purse.
"He's only been a teenager for a year and a half and already it feels like a lifetime."
"Wait till he starts driving," he said, smiling as she groaned. "Earl, as always, it's been a pleasure talking with you. I hope to see you again soon."
Rose wasn't aware that they'd exchanged even a single word, but the old man lifted a friendly hand and waved them good-bye—or waved them away from in front of the television set, she
This was exactly why she didn't date. A lot of trouble and fuss for nothing. She'd mention this to Harley tomorrow, she decided, walking into the living room.
"Look, Mom. Flowers," Harley said, grinning, indicating the clay pot in Gary's hands. One leaf and a thin green stub of a stem protruded from the center of it. "Eventually."
"It's a-refugee," Gary told her, his expression announcing his delight in seeing her again. "A little love and kindness, and it'll be a red begonia someday."
How appropriate.
Rose tucked her tongue into her cheek and graciously accepted the near dead vegetation without comment—however, both Harley and Gary saw the amusement in her eyes and knew it was a favorable omen.
He hadn't been sure of the reception he'd get. Earlier she had thrust his plate of meatloaf into his hands and promptly disappeared into the kitchen while he ate. His new friend Danny O'Brian had passed him some meaningful glances in relation to the amount of noise she'd made with the pots and pans, but she hadn't even said good-bye when he left.
Rose set the grocery store reject in the kitchen window where it could catch the morning sun—and where she might remember to water it once in a while. She took a moment to collect herself.
She didn't want to enjoy Gary Albright or his silly sense of humor. She didn't want to like him or the pleasurable feelings he stirred in her. She was determined not to have a good time in his company. Let's face it, what woman in her right mind, who wasn't looking for a relationship in the first place, would choose to go out with a garbageman?
Hmmm. On the other hand, who else would she go out with? Who would be safer? Now, that was a consoling thought. If she started to feel the slightest bit attracted to him, all she had to do was remind herself that he was a garbageman.
Not that there was anything wrong with garbagemen as a whole, mind you. And she was sure there was an auxiliary association of garbagemen's wives somewhere, too. She simply wasn't interested in joining.
“You have plenty of gas?" she heard Harley asking.
"Yes, sir," Gary answered, playing along good-naturedly.
"I want her home in time to fix my lunch for school tomorrow. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
She watched Harley slip an arm around her date's shoulder and turn him away, speaking in hushed tones. Her face burned hot as a torch when Gary nodded another "yes, sir" and patted the wallet in his rear pants pocket with his hand.
"Harley, honey," she said, taking his hand to lead him away, refusing to hear Gary's chuckle, avidly avoiding the expression on his face. She led her only son back to the kitchen, muttering, "You will not live to see morning." Adding in a louder voice, "Don't forget that you need to cook supper for you and Grampa. I left the directions there on the counter. Follow them."
An inch or two taller than she, he bent his head to her and whispered, "Do you have a quarter in your sock ... just in case?"
She stuck a finger in his face and wordlessly told him that he'd crossed the line. By several miles.
He grinned. "Try to have fun," he whispered with an impulsive peck to her cheek
"You are the worst son I've ever had, but I love you anyway," she told him.
"Yo, Gary," he said, turning away from her. "Remember what I told you, man."
"Yes, sir."
Rose sighed a mother's sigh and reached for her purse.
"He's only been a teenager for a year and a half and already it feels like a lifetime."
"Wait till he starts driving," he said, smiling as she groaned. "Earl, as always, it's been a pleasure talking with you. I hope to see you again soon."
Rose wasn't aware that they'd exchanged even a single word, but the old man lifted a friendly hand and waved them good-bye—or waved them away from in front of the television set, she
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