Mary turned up the volume. A reporter was interviewing some of the men who were camping at the battlefield as part of the reenactment. They looked nasty, like they’d been rolling in the dirt and eating bark and leaves. Mary wondered what kind of shape they would be in by Saturday. And the Riddick boy’s beard truly was the saddest-looking something she’d ever seen growing on a chin.
Mary watched the end of the report and was washing her cup and fork at the sink when the phone rang. It was Walter, inviting her to supper the next night. She consulted her appointment book. “I’ve got a 5:30 trim,” she said. “I should be finished and cleaned up by 6:30.”
“I’ll be here,” Walter said.
Tuesday, after her last appointment had gone, Mary wasn’t sure whether she ought to take time to change clothes or not. It was already 6:35. She called to let Walter know she was running late.
“No problem,” he said cheerfully. “I hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti.”
“I’ve been in the mood for it all day,” Mary said. “I figured I better get in the mood for it, since it’s the only thing you know how to cook. Give me 10 minutes.”
Walter and Bubbles met Mary at the door. “Come in, come in,” Walter said. He looked tall and solid. Tiny dots of red sauce freckled the front of his blue shirt.
Mary went into the dining room. “Everything looks so nice,” she said. “Where’s the picture we were going to hang on that wall?”
“I’ve been meaning to hang it,” Walter said. “Trouble is, I don’t have you here to get me to do it. Sit down, and I’ll get the food on the table.”
Walter had prepared salad, spaghetti, and garlic bread. Mary helped herself to salad, then layered pasta onto her plate.
“You know, Mary,” Walter said, watching the spaghetti, “if you aren’t ready to retire yet, we could put your salon in that extra room next to the utility room.”
“We’d have to put in a sink and tear up the walls,” Mary said. She ladled sauce onto her pasta and passed the dish to Walter. “It’d be more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, I’ve been thinking about expanding in the old house. I could cut a door between the spare room and Katherine’s old room, then put in another sink and chair and hire somebody to do all the latest styles. Maybe I’ll hire a manicurist, too. They’re real popular.”
Walter shook his head, dazed.
“But that’s just what I’ve been thinking about doing,” Mary said calmly. “That don’t mean I’ll do it. Pass me the garlic bread, please.”
Tomorrow: Part 6: A Thunderbolt From the Hand of Mars
Bah! Now I have to wait for the rest! I don’t have any patience!!! I am loving this story.