Too Close to Touch by Georgia Beers Page A

laughed at the generosity of Pete’s wife. “I’ve been here barely three weeks and I’ve already got a dinner invitation.”
    Pete narrowed his eyes at her in a mock threat. “Don’t make her call you about it. Check your schedule and give her a date. She really wants to see you. She was annoyed that she couldn’t make it tonight. I keep telling her you’re Þ ne, but you know how she is. She needs to see you with her own eyes.”
    Gretchen inclined her head, conceding his point as the waiter arrived to set down Pete’s glass and take their orders. Much as she liked to be witty and snide, she considered Allyson off-limits. She was just too sweet and caring, and she treated Gretchen like a big sister.
    Gretchen was well aware of how lucky she was to have two caring friends like Pete and Allyson. Most people had trouble believing that she’d actually been married to Pete. They’d parted more than twenty years ago, but so much of their time together was burned lovingly into her brain that it sometimes seemed to have happened last week.
    They’d met in college; he was a senior when she was a freshman.
    He graduated, but they continued as a couple all through Gretchen’s education and married as soon as she graduated. He devotedly and
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    stupidly overlooked several ß ings she’d had with women during her dorm-living years, interpreting these as part of a collegiate phase and insisting that marriage was the best way to cure such things. Theirs lasted for three years before he Þ nally sat Gretchen down and told her she needed to face the fact that she was a lesbian.
    She knew he was right, and that she was keeping him a prisoner by staying married to him. Their divorce was painful and they took over a year to lick their wounds, then they bumped into each other at a conference, had a drink, and had been best friends ever since. When Pete married Allyson the following year, Gretchen stood up as his “best man” in the wedding.
    “So, where’s your place?” Pete asked, sipping his Merlot.
    “About two blocks from here and around the corner. It’s great.
    Very roomy as apartments go, and I have my own tiny little balcony.”
    Gretchen smiled at the realization of how much she liked her new abode.
    “You should think about buying a house, you know. The market’s hot and you can Þ nd a nice one in the city for the same size mortgage payment as your rent.” He smirked as Gretchen sighed over their familiar conversation. “Or, hell. You make a nice wad of cash. Go out to the suburbs and buy something big.”
    “For who? Me and my plants? I don’t need big.”
    Pete held his hands up, palms forward, feigning surrender.
    “Wouldn’t want you to actually settle down anywhere.”
    “What? Pete, I haven’t even been here a month. You want me to settle down already?”
    “Well, I’d prefer you settle down with somebody, but I’ll give you some time on that one.”
    Gretchen growled at him as the waiter arrived with their dinners, saving Pete from a sarcastic retort. He shook his head over the huge slab of beef on her plate.
    “I’ve never seen any other woman devour red meat like a caveman the way you do. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” He laughed, then changed the subject completely. “How goes the job?”
    Gretchen nodded, popping a piece of steak into her mouth. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring the taste of the seasonings and juices mingling on her tongue. “It’s going well,” she responded eventually. “I’ve had to do some ass-kicking—my sales force is in a
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    bit of a slump—but overall, I really like the company. The beneÞ ts are great, upper management has been easy enough to deal with.” She shrugged. “So far, so good.”
    “And you’ve got enough help?”
    At Gretchen’s last job, her support staff left much to be desired, and she’d often bent Pete’s ear on the subject. “My help is great, this