favor, unless you need to go to the hospital.” Willa hated being perceived as weak or vulnerable, so sometimes she acted brusque with him or with Taffy if either one fell off their bikes or ran into a wall.
“I’m fine,” Eric said.
“If you say so.” Willa paused for a half-second, a conversational glottal stop to get into the reason she called. “Taffy has something in the fridge that she needs tonight for her science fair project. I was going to –” she covered the phone to speak to someone in her office. “Sorry. I was going to get it to her myself but something came up at work. I tried John, but he has bronchitis, and then I tried Amy, but she was in a beading circle. Oh, and my assistant.”
His chest tightened. “I was the fourth person you asked?” He spread his legs out with a splash and hit his head against the bison’s flank. His knee was sore and bleeding and his elbow hurt.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, quick and smooth. “Anyway, follow the detailed packaging instructions Taffy left on the fridge and take it over to the school by five p.m. She needs it for the judge’s review, and be sure you’re on time, or she’ll get disqualified.”
Eric stood up. His clothes were soaked through, including his shoes, which were wet to the socks. He picked up his bike and checked it for damage, then shot out for home, shoes squishing, hand bleeding on the handlebar.
When Eric arrived at the house, he made a pit stop in the bathroom near the kitchen. He stripped off his wet clothes and hung them on the shower rod. There was no time for a shower, so he used a damp hand towel to take off the mud and clean his scratches. He had a sudden, horrid thought of Willa and Taffy deciding that he was a lousy husband and father, deserting him, leaving him to end up alone in a terrible assisted living facility, getting a monthly sponge bath from a perfunctory nurse. He sprinted to the bedroom in his underwear and changed all of his clothes, then stopped by the bathroom again to stuff a few alcohol pads and adhesive bandages in his pocket.
As Willa had said, Taffy’s instructions were meticulously detailed, with a packing and transport checklist and a diagram of the item and how it was to be packed. He was not to open her science fair object. He was not to inhale it. He was not to expose his skin to it. Most important, he was not to eat it. He lined the cooler with ice packs, took the mysterious item from the fridge, then placed it carefully in the center of the cooler.
Eric secured the cooler to the bike and started out again, his knee and elbow aching.
Chapter Six
Eric wound his bike through traffic. Taffy’s school was still a few miles away, but at this rate, he wouldn’t get the cooler to her in time – and ‘Disappointing Taffy’ was at the top of his already long list of things to avoid. ‘Disappointing Taffy’ ranked even higher than ‘Getting Possessed by a Narcissistic Spirit Who Refuses to Leave,’ and that was saying a lot.
He put his hand on the roof of a Honda to stabilize himself on the bike while he waited for an opening.
“Are you a model?” The thirty-something woman in the driver’s seat to his immediate right put a hand out the window and tapped her long, coral-colored nails along the rim of the window.
“Me? No.” It was true that he was not currently a model, but he had appeared in more than thirty print ads (some full, some just underwear), had been a nude model for art classes, had small parts in some regional commercials and a jeans commercial in Italy, and posed for two male pinup calendars in college. A scholarship was nearly impossible to sustain over three years with the law school grading numbers game, so he planned on paying the rest of his way with modeling.
“Because you could totally be a model.” She dropped her hand and poked his leg gently with a fingernail.
“Thanks.” He flashed her a half-smile then took advantage of a slight opening
“I’m fine,” Eric said.
“If you say so.” Willa paused for a half-second, a conversational glottal stop to get into the reason she called. “Taffy has something in the fridge that she needs tonight for her science fair project. I was going to –” she covered the phone to speak to someone in her office. “Sorry. I was going to get it to her myself but something came up at work. I tried John, but he has bronchitis, and then I tried Amy, but she was in a beading circle. Oh, and my assistant.”
His chest tightened. “I was the fourth person you asked?” He spread his legs out with a splash and hit his head against the bison’s flank. His knee was sore and bleeding and his elbow hurt.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said, quick and smooth. “Anyway, follow the detailed packaging instructions Taffy left on the fridge and take it over to the school by five p.m. She needs it for the judge’s review, and be sure you’re on time, or she’ll get disqualified.”
Eric stood up. His clothes were soaked through, including his shoes, which were wet to the socks. He picked up his bike and checked it for damage, then shot out for home, shoes squishing, hand bleeding on the handlebar.
When Eric arrived at the house, he made a pit stop in the bathroom near the kitchen. He stripped off his wet clothes and hung them on the shower rod. There was no time for a shower, so he used a damp hand towel to take off the mud and clean his scratches. He had a sudden, horrid thought of Willa and Taffy deciding that he was a lousy husband and father, deserting him, leaving him to end up alone in a terrible assisted living facility, getting a monthly sponge bath from a perfunctory nurse. He sprinted to the bedroom in his underwear and changed all of his clothes, then stopped by the bathroom again to stuff a few alcohol pads and adhesive bandages in his pocket.
As Willa had said, Taffy’s instructions were meticulously detailed, with a packing and transport checklist and a diagram of the item and how it was to be packed. He was not to open her science fair object. He was not to inhale it. He was not to expose his skin to it. Most important, he was not to eat it. He lined the cooler with ice packs, took the mysterious item from the fridge, then placed it carefully in the center of the cooler.
Eric secured the cooler to the bike and started out again, his knee and elbow aching.
Chapter Six
Eric wound his bike through traffic. Taffy’s school was still a few miles away, but at this rate, he wouldn’t get the cooler to her in time – and ‘Disappointing Taffy’ was at the top of his already long list of things to avoid. ‘Disappointing Taffy’ ranked even higher than ‘Getting Possessed by a Narcissistic Spirit Who Refuses to Leave,’ and that was saying a lot.
He put his hand on the roof of a Honda to stabilize himself on the bike while he waited for an opening.
“Are you a model?” The thirty-something woman in the driver’s seat to his immediate right put a hand out the window and tapped her long, coral-colored nails along the rim of the window.
“Me? No.” It was true that he was not currently a model, but he had appeared in more than thirty print ads (some full, some just underwear), had been a nude model for art classes, had small parts in some regional commercials and a jeans commercial in Italy, and posed for two male pinup calendars in college. A scholarship was nearly impossible to sustain over three years with the law school grading numbers game, so he planned on paying the rest of his way with modeling.
“Because you could totally be a model.” She dropped her hand and poked his leg gently with a fingernail.
“Thanks.” He flashed her a half-smile then took advantage of a slight opening
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