Wife-In-Law by Haywood Smith

laughed out loud. “Maybe you ought to stick to vegetable soup, after all.”
    She sagged with relief. “Thanks. Yer the best. I knew you’d understand.” Happy, she went to scrub the last of the overworked dough from her hands.
    “C’mon, then.” I put some of my hot, fluffy biscuits on a plate and headed for the butter and jam on the table. “Bring our tea. We can figure out what you’d like to do while we eat.”
    Kat brought over our iced teas and sat, her expression intense. “Whut I’d really like is fer you to take me to museums and teach me about culture. Most of the other students at Oglethorpe probly know about all that stuff, but we didn’t have any museums where I come from back in Kentucky, so I never learned any of that stuff.”
    “I learned all that from books,” I confessed. Georgia State wasn’t big on the fine arts when I was there. “But it would be fun to see the museum collections.” I could find out everything about the local museums from the reference department at the library. “Which one would you like to go to first?”
    “That High Museum, downtown,” she said. “Way I figure it, best to start with the biggest, then work our way down.”
    “Sounds like a good plan,” I told her. “Maybe they have guides who can tell us about the paintings.”
    “Perfect.” Kat glowed.
    Regardless of the differences between our politics and lifestyle choices, Kat and I both came from humble backgrounds, and we both wanted more out of life. It was as good a basis as any for a friendship.

Five
     
    Three years ago. Eden Lake Court, Sandy Springs, Georgia
     
    W orn out from the long flight from L.A., I left Mama’s in time to get home before dark.
    I always hate coming home to a stale, stuffy house after a trip, especially to find my ex-husband’s car parked across the street in my widowed best friend’s driveway. Especially when he’s cheerfully cutting the grass in the ninety-degree heat, something he never did at my house, regardless of the temperature.
    He actually had the nerve to wave at me as I turned into my driveway.
    What a hypocrite.
    I just ignored him and kept right on going.
    If Greg was willing to go to those lengths to impress Kat, she must not be sleeping with him yet. Not that I cared if she did, except for the fact that she might catch something from him.
    Perversely, I wondered if my presence would be there with them when they finally did get down and dirty.
    An evil smile overtook me as I wondered if Kat liked it quick, with no foreplay. I had, because Greg was the only man I’d ever slept with, but that didn’t apply to Kat.
    I wondered if Zach’s presence would be in bed with them too.
    Served Greg right, if it was.
    I pulled into the garage, then closed the door behind me and got out to the smell of hot, oily metal from the car. Lugging my suitcases out of the trunk, it occurred to me that it might be fun to ask Greg to come do it for me. But I decided it would be even more fun to ask him to cut my grass—in front of Kat. See how long this Mr. Fixit façade lasted when I asked him to do something nice for me, for a change.
    Entering my house, I was greeted by two weeks’ worth of hot, stale air.
    “Whoa.” My personal thermostat shot to boiling, so I made straight for the AC control and adjusted it from eighty to sixtyeight. While I waited for things to cool down, I gulped two bottles of cold spring water, then went to freshen up. After much blotting, I renewed my undereye concealer, lipstick, and mascara. No need for blush in this weather. I was red as the beefsteak tomatoes in my vegetable patch.
    Looking human again, I gulped down another cold water, then headed across the street in the sweltering dusk.
    I hadn’t reached the sidewalk at Kat’s before she came out to see what was up. I waved to her and called over the lawn mower, “Congratulations!”
    Seeing Kat, Greg pulled out the earplugs to his iPod and followed her line of sight to me.