forms. “There is one thing, though. Maybe you should talk to the historical society about--
“Thanks, but I already have.” By this time all she wanted was to get away from the two busybodies. “Well, my phone number is on the application, so if there are any questions, I’m sure they’ll call me. Thanks for your help.”
Before either woman could ask another question or make another unwanted suggestion, she slid the check under the glass and turned to go. Catching the redhead’s eye, she said, “Nice seeing you, er...I’m sorry. What was your name?”
“Karen.”
“Right--Karen. Take care.”
She walked away quickly. As she turned out of the office door, she heard the redhead say just within earshot, “What a bitch.”
Lara snorted and shook her head to herself. The woman was probing her for information about her divorce--the most painful experience she’d ever gone through--and yet she was the one who was a bitch!
During her walk down the block to the drugstore she thought up half-a-dozen clever comebacks she wished she had shot back at the redhead. If she met one more encroaching stranger this week, she was really going to give him or her an earful!
* * * *
When Mark got up that morning and saw sunlight streaming through his window, he decided to walk into town to the office-supply shop. Since he’d left his manuscript at Lara’s the other day, he needed to print out a new copy, but he’d run out of paper. Going back to pick up the old one had crossed his mind, only to be dismissed. He and Lara continually rubbed each other the wrong way. Since he still had his computer files, he’d worked from them over the weekend.
He went downstairs to the main floor of his apartment, a place he loved because the building had been converted from an old schoolhouse. While he made coffee and fixed himself a bowl of cereal, his final words to Lara replayed in his mind. In hindsight, he saw that he shouldn’t have brought up her ex-husband’s family. Alluding to her divorce had been a cheap shot. He’d gotten carried away, annoyed by her attitude about the secret room and further agitated when she’d used the phrase “I can’t promise anything.” Karen had said the same thing on more than one occasion when he’d tried to pinpoint where he stood with her. Shortly after the final time, she’d broken up with him. She’d said she needed time to get over her divorce before she could handle another relationship.
A week later she was back with her ex.
As he sat down to eat, he wondered if he’d been extra hard on Lara because she too was a divorcee--and an attractive one. She didn’t look like Karen or have her personality, but the few traits they had in common made him wary of her.
Damn it , he thought, poking at his cereal without much appetite. He wished he could help her see her home for what it was, but she would never listen to him. The best he could do was try to put her and her house out of his mind and hope she didn’t go through with her plans. She’d mentioned that she was depending on the grant for money. With any luck, she’d never come up with the funds to ruin her place entirely.
During his walk into town, Lara kept coming back to his mind. The inconsistencies in her personality bugged him. Her lack of appreciation for her home didn’t seem to fit in with her chosen profession. He hadn’t actually seen her paintings, but her well used “studio” showed how much time she spent on her art. How could she have no talent or taste? Or was his attraction to her making him look for a way to believe there was more to her then there was? He really should have asked to see some of her paintings.
He reached the office-supply shop and picked up a package of paper then dallied for a while. As he browsed the aisles, the thought began to nag at him that he should use the manuscript he’d left at Lara’s as an excuse to visit her again. If she had any sense of aesthetics at all, she
“Thanks, but I already have.” By this time all she wanted was to get away from the two busybodies. “Well, my phone number is on the application, so if there are any questions, I’m sure they’ll call me. Thanks for your help.”
Before either woman could ask another question or make another unwanted suggestion, she slid the check under the glass and turned to go. Catching the redhead’s eye, she said, “Nice seeing you, er...I’m sorry. What was your name?”
“Karen.”
“Right--Karen. Take care.”
She walked away quickly. As she turned out of the office door, she heard the redhead say just within earshot, “What a bitch.”
Lara snorted and shook her head to herself. The woman was probing her for information about her divorce--the most painful experience she’d ever gone through--and yet she was the one who was a bitch!
During her walk down the block to the drugstore she thought up half-a-dozen clever comebacks she wished she had shot back at the redhead. If she met one more encroaching stranger this week, she was really going to give him or her an earful!
* * * *
When Mark got up that morning and saw sunlight streaming through his window, he decided to walk into town to the office-supply shop. Since he’d left his manuscript at Lara’s the other day, he needed to print out a new copy, but he’d run out of paper. Going back to pick up the old one had crossed his mind, only to be dismissed. He and Lara continually rubbed each other the wrong way. Since he still had his computer files, he’d worked from them over the weekend.
He went downstairs to the main floor of his apartment, a place he loved because the building had been converted from an old schoolhouse. While he made coffee and fixed himself a bowl of cereal, his final words to Lara replayed in his mind. In hindsight, he saw that he shouldn’t have brought up her ex-husband’s family. Alluding to her divorce had been a cheap shot. He’d gotten carried away, annoyed by her attitude about the secret room and further agitated when she’d used the phrase “I can’t promise anything.” Karen had said the same thing on more than one occasion when he’d tried to pinpoint where he stood with her. Shortly after the final time, she’d broken up with him. She’d said she needed time to get over her divorce before she could handle another relationship.
A week later she was back with her ex.
As he sat down to eat, he wondered if he’d been extra hard on Lara because she too was a divorcee--and an attractive one. She didn’t look like Karen or have her personality, but the few traits they had in common made him wary of her.
Damn it , he thought, poking at his cereal without much appetite. He wished he could help her see her home for what it was, but she would never listen to him. The best he could do was try to put her and her house out of his mind and hope she didn’t go through with her plans. She’d mentioned that she was depending on the grant for money. With any luck, she’d never come up with the funds to ruin her place entirely.
During his walk into town, Lara kept coming back to his mind. The inconsistencies in her personality bugged him. Her lack of appreciation for her home didn’t seem to fit in with her chosen profession. He hadn’t actually seen her paintings, but her well used “studio” showed how much time she spent on her art. How could she have no talent or taste? Or was his attraction to her making him look for a way to believe there was more to her then there was? He really should have asked to see some of her paintings.
He reached the office-supply shop and picked up a package of paper then dallied for a while. As he browsed the aisles, the thought began to nag at him that he should use the manuscript he’d left at Lara’s as an excuse to visit her again. If she had any sense of aesthetics at all, she
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