Read Online The Chocolate Mouse Trap by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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her.”
“Besides, you’re the beauty queen. You’re the one who graduated from college with really good grades. You’re the one who can wrap your dad around your finger with the flicker of an eyelash.”
“You make me sound awful!”
“From Brenda’s viewpoint, you are. She can’t possibly compete for your dad’s attention when you’re around. And all it takes is a phone call from you and he drops everything and buys you a car.”
“I paid for it! He just found it for me.”
“And drove it to St. Louis for you to pick up.”
“Well, I notice he found a good car for Brenda’s high school graduation present. And I bet she didn’t have to pay for it.”
“We’ve gotten way off the subject I thought we ought to talk about.”
“Oh? I thought we were analyzing my relations with my family.”
“Oh, it’s a much broader subject than that. We’re analyzing your relations with me and my relations with you.”
“That’s a more interesting subject, I guess.”
“I hope so.” Joe stopped talking and gave me a kiss. “But our interpersonal relations worry me sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes you treat me like you treat your mother.”
“My mother!”
“Yes. You avoid confrontation. You let me have my way—sometimes—because you don’t want to argue about it.”
“If it’s something I don’t care about . . .”
“Then say, ‘I don’t care.’ And say it as if you mean it. Don’t refuse to discuss something because you’re afraid we’ll argue over it. And don’t stonewall me just as a way to win an argument.”
He’d seen right through me, right through to that tricky little voice that told me if I stalled long enough the wedding issue would decide itself. I didn’t know what to say.
But I didn’t have to say anything, because Joe gave me a kiss that I’ll remember a long time. Then he patted my fanny gently. “Think about it, okay? But we don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight. Nothing should interfere with meatloaf.”
“First things first, huh?”
“I’ve got my priorities straight.”
It’s easy to see why I fell for this guy. A little later I got up and went to the kitchen to finish up the dinner. Joe followed me. He stood in the doorway and watched me slice the meatloaf and get the baked potatoes out of the oven.
“What did you tell Martin Schrader?” he said.
“When he wanted to talk to me about Julie? What could I say? I told him I would.” Then I finished up the story, telling Joe about Brad Schrader’s warning.
“Are you uneasy about meeting Martin Schrader?” Joe asked.
“Not really. I’m certainly not going to meet him at a lonely cabin in the woods, like the naive heroine of a romantic novel. But I wouldn’t be afraid to talk to him in my office or in a restaurant. Of course, I might want to drive my own car to the restaurant.”
“And you’ll wear a business suit.” Joe grinned.
“My black pants suit and the heavy boots with the chunky heels. The modern suit of armor. Ready for battle.” I picked up the dinner plates, already served, and gestured at the salad with my elbow. Joe obediently lifted it and followed me into the living room.
“Joe,” I said. “You’ve lived around Warner Pier most of your life, and Martin Schrader has been around here all of his—at least in the summers. Is he notorious as a skirt chaser?”
“I never heard of it. But I was gone nearly ten years. Besides, I definitely don’t move in the same circles he does. I’ll ask Mom. She sells the summer people a lot of insurance, and she doesn’t do it by ignoring who lives next door to whom and who’s seen having dinner with whom.”
The rest of the evening was ordinary. Joe and I talked about the wedding, decided to send his mother flowers on her birthday, argued about what the city council should do to try to solve the Warner Pier parking problem, then touched on the old house Lindy and Tony had bought. We were doing the dishes when
“Besides, you’re the beauty queen. You’re the one who graduated from college with really good grades. You’re the one who can wrap your dad around your finger with the flicker of an eyelash.”
“You make me sound awful!”
“From Brenda’s viewpoint, you are. She can’t possibly compete for your dad’s attention when you’re around. And all it takes is a phone call from you and he drops everything and buys you a car.”
“I paid for it! He just found it for me.”
“And drove it to St. Louis for you to pick up.”
“Well, I notice he found a good car for Brenda’s high school graduation present. And I bet she didn’t have to pay for it.”
“We’ve gotten way off the subject I thought we ought to talk about.”
“Oh? I thought we were analyzing my relations with my family.”
“Oh, it’s a much broader subject than that. We’re analyzing your relations with me and my relations with you.”
“That’s a more interesting subject, I guess.”
“I hope so.” Joe stopped talking and gave me a kiss. “But our interpersonal relations worry me sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes you treat me like you treat your mother.”
“My mother!”
“Yes. You avoid confrontation. You let me have my way—sometimes—because you don’t want to argue about it.”
“If it’s something I don’t care about . . .”
“Then say, ‘I don’t care.’ And say it as if you mean it. Don’t refuse to discuss something because you’re afraid we’ll argue over it. And don’t stonewall me just as a way to win an argument.”
He’d seen right through me, right through to that tricky little voice that told me if I stalled long enough the wedding issue would decide itself. I didn’t know what to say.
But I didn’t have to say anything, because Joe gave me a kiss that I’ll remember a long time. Then he patted my fanny gently. “Think about it, okay? But we don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight. Nothing should interfere with meatloaf.”
“First things first, huh?”
“I’ve got my priorities straight.”
It’s easy to see why I fell for this guy. A little later I got up and went to the kitchen to finish up the dinner. Joe followed me. He stood in the doorway and watched me slice the meatloaf and get the baked potatoes out of the oven.
“What did you tell Martin Schrader?” he said.
“When he wanted to talk to me about Julie? What could I say? I told him I would.” Then I finished up the story, telling Joe about Brad Schrader’s warning.
“Are you uneasy about meeting Martin Schrader?” Joe asked.
“Not really. I’m certainly not going to meet him at a lonely cabin in the woods, like the naive heroine of a romantic novel. But I wouldn’t be afraid to talk to him in my office or in a restaurant. Of course, I might want to drive my own car to the restaurant.”
“And you’ll wear a business suit.” Joe grinned.
“My black pants suit and the heavy boots with the chunky heels. The modern suit of armor. Ready for battle.” I picked up the dinner plates, already served, and gestured at the salad with my elbow. Joe obediently lifted it and followed me into the living room.
“Joe,” I said. “You’ve lived around Warner Pier most of your life, and Martin Schrader has been around here all of his—at least in the summers. Is he notorious as a skirt chaser?”
“I never heard of it. But I was gone nearly ten years. Besides, I definitely don’t move in the same circles he does. I’ll ask Mom. She sells the summer people a lot of insurance, and she doesn’t do it by ignoring who lives next door to whom and who’s seen having dinner with whom.”
The rest of the evening was ordinary. Joe and I talked about the wedding, decided to send his mother flowers on her birthday, argued about what the city council should do to try to solve the Warner Pier parking problem, then touched on the old house Lindy and Tony had bought. We were doing the dishes when
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