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here when he was ready, he was sadly mistaken. As for the rest of his stuff, well, she knew what to do with that! There was a perfectly good curb just waiting for it.
    Intellectually, Maizie realized she was making a huge mistake. She simply couldn’t help herself. It was a caffeine-induced psychosis, that’s what it was.
    Out went the baseball trophies—including the national Little League championship—the sports equipment, the treadmill—that one took some muscle—and the remainder of his clothes.
    Maizie looked at the pile of her husband’s belongings and slapped her hands together. The feeling of satisfaction lasted until she broke into tears and ran back to the house as if Cujo was nipping at her heels.
    Several cars slowed and a couple even stopped. They were obviously trolling for free stuff. Free stuff—where did they get that idea? Was there a sign out there saying Take Me? Of course not. Mama would have a fit.
    Maizie grabbed her cell and ran out to shoo away the vultures. A guy in a baggy pair of pants and a faded wife beater had a pair of Clay’s jeans in his hand. Not that his fat rear would ever fit into those Wranglers.
    “Get away from my husband’s clothes.”
    “Lady, someone put this stuff out for the garbage.” He gave her a dirty look before hocking a loogie at her feet.
    Gag.
    “That’s not trash. My husband’s coming to pick it up.” Maizie held up her phone hoping to scare him off. “I’m calling the cops.”
    What do you know—it worked. She wouldn’t be surprised if the guy was wanted by the police. When the redneck jumped into his Camaro and hit the gas, gravel sprayed everywhere.
    Maizie was congratulating herself when she spied something lying by the curb. It was metal, it was mangled and it was Clay’s Little League trophy.
    Oh, dear Lord. He’d never forgive her.
    She bent over to pick up the pieces. “Thanks, buddy,” she muttered.
    Maizie punched in Clay’s office number. Please, please, please answer the phone.
    “Clay Walker.”
    She was at a loss for words. How was she going to explain this? “Uh, Clay. I put your stuff out on the curb and some people have already tried to take things.”
    She didn’t want him to lose all that sporting equipment. “I stopped them but you need to get over here right away. I have to go to work.”
    There was such a long pause Maizie was afraid they’d been disconnected.
    “You did what?” He said it so softly she almost didn’t hear him.
    “Your things are on the lawn and some people have already stopped to rummage through them.”
    “I thought that’s what you said.” He hung up without another word.
    Well, crumb! Maizie stared at the phone, expecting it to ring. Ten minutes later Clay roared up in his pickup. Without even glancing at the house, he tossed his belongings in the vehicle, muttering the entire time. Maizie couldn’t hear what he was saying but certain words were easy to lip-read.

Chapter Thirteen

    Mama was driving Maizie nuts. The woman had called at least a thousand times over the weekend, but thanks to Caller ID Maizie had been able to dodge a barrage of maternal advice. Now that it was Monday all bets were off. Sure as shootin’ her mom would show up at the Boudoir.
    “Mother alert. She’s coming down the sidewalk.” Maizie had clued PJ in on the mess she called her private life. “Do you want to hide? I’ll make an excuse for you.”
    “Thanks, but no. I’ll have to face her sooner or later.” It was hard not to think of her mom as a traitor. How dare her parents take Clay’s side!
    “Hi, Mama. What brings you to town?” Maizie asked when her mother walked in. She was determined to be polite, even if it killed her.
    “Good morning, PJ. How’s your family?” Mama ignored Maizie’s question.
    So that’s how the game was going to be played.
    “The girls are growing like weeds. Thanks for asking, ma’am,” PJ said. “Hey, Maze. I’m going to theback to steam some of that new