Last Known Address. Elizabeth Wrenn

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СКАЧАТЬ I think she’s right,’ whispered Meg, leaning in, smiling. ‘The man is obviously smitten.’

      ‘And you’re the kitten with whom he’s smitten!’ said Shelly, too loudly.

      ‘Shhhh!’ hissed both Meg and C.C. Shelly slapped her hand over her mouth, but snickered underneath it. Removing her hand, she turned to Meg, whispering now, but with just as much animation. ‘Hey! I guess we each get our own bed tonight if Purdy makes his move on C.C.’

      C.C. kicked her under the table, feeling Meg’s foot doing the same.

      ‘Ow! OWW!’ yelped Shelly.

      ‘I’m not you, Shelly,’ said C.C. ‘I don’t sleep with every Tom, Dick and Harry. Now, give me your mugs.’ She poured the three drinks back and forth from mug to mug, till they were mixed, giving the lion’s share to Meg and Shelly. She figured she was several sips ahead of them. She pushed their mugs across the table. ‘Besides, I’m sure it was just an accident. The booze, I mean.’

      ‘Of course it was,’ said Shelly. ‘An accident caused by your bewitching beauty.’ Grinning, Shelly served them each a thick slice of the cornbread.

      C.C. couldn’t help the small smile that slipped across her own lips. Could it be? Really? She hadn’t had a man flirt with her in a long time, maybe even since…When? High school? Lenny had certainly not been the flirty type. She wondered if he had ever flirted with her. Surely he must have when they’d met. But for three years he was just the guy at Byrd and Franholz, doing her taxes. Unless asking if she had a receipt for the high-school band wreath she’d bought was flirting. Come to think of it, his laborious explanation had grown longer and more cumbersome each year: that she ‘could only deduct the amount over the cost of an average Christmas wreath because the wreath itself was considered a benefit of having bought the wreath and only the remainder could be considered a charitable deduction to the band’. Was that flirting? She’d thought at the time, and still thought, that if a tax guy wanted to impress a girl he probably shouldn’t even tell her that he was a tax guy, much less go on and on about the tax code. But from the beginning, Lenny was always polite, albeit quiet, and somewhat narrowly focused. If he was reading an article in a magazine, she could walk into the room naked, with a bowl of fruit on her head, and he would not notice. And that wasn’t just a guess; she had tried it. But when he was focused on her, it was all about her. And Len didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, unlike her first husband, Billy, whose entire skeletal system was the lying bone connected to the deceitful bone connected to the cockamamie bone (Shelly would say ‘the bullshit’ bone). There had been something so fresh and clean and, all right, maybe boring, about Lenny. But thank God by the time he’d gathered his courage to ask her out, she’d gotten past the stage in her life when she found ‘bad boys’ attractive. (Kathryn was still in that phase, she thought morosely, picturing Jordan.) But C.C. had been much younger than Kathryn was now when she’d finally learned that hard-won lesson, that the other side of a dull, black piece of glass was the shiny, beautifully reflective mirror. The flip side of boring was sincerity. Right after Lenny’s third explanation about the band wreath, on his third year of doing her taxes, after he’d spent ten minutes telling her about 501Cs and benefit versus cost versus donation, he had nervously asked her out. Six months later, she’d become Mrs Leonard Byrd.

      Now Billy, on the other hand, was a world-class flirt. He was a charmer, that boy. A constant flirt. And what good had come of that, in the end? None. None at all. Except Kathryn, of course. Who had Billy’s genes, but Lenny’s fathering.

      C.C. finished her drink and took another slice of cornbread from Shelly, and the honey from Meg.

      But this man–Purdy. Was it his first name, she wondered. He was just being kind to them. All of them. And even if he had sort of singled her out, and even if she did find him charming, jumpiness notwithstanding, what could possibly come of it? They’d be back on the road tomorrow, gone for good, heading south again.

      She stared at her breasts. Heading south, indeed. Shelly and Meg must be wrong about Purdy. If he was looking for a woman to–well, date–he would certainly be more attracted to one of them, not her. Meg was almost eight years older than she was, but Meg was so trim and petite, an impeccable dresser, right out of J. Crew. And perky breasts, too. Even though she was too thin now, and her hair mostly gray. But it was an attractive silver on her. And Shelly, so funny and wild and seductive, with her sexy thick, red hair, though now with that troubling gray, unlike Meg’s attractive silvery hair. Back in the day, a man might have preferred C.C., when she was young, blonde and her body unaltered by either calories or gravity. But what man would be attracted to her now? Maybe a dairy farmer. She was a cow. She stared at her hands, her chubby fingers, especially her left ring finger. The indentation from her wedding ring still deep. She’d removed the ring not because she was a widow, or because it ‘was time’, but rather because she’d gained so much weight that she was worried they’d have to cut it off her.

      She sighed, picked up the bottle, and squeezed a generous stream of cinnamon honey back and forth over her second slice of cornbread.

      After they’d finished all the bread (they agreed, it was exceptional, deep and nutty-tasting, especially good with the honey), they’d decided to go ahead and order dinner, then get to bed early. C.C. stared at her menu: Meatloaf? Fried chicken? Maybe chicken fried steak.

      ‘Ahem.’

      She looked up. Mick stood at their table. He’d pulled off his grease-stained cap, holding it to his chest, as if about to deliver a eulogy. ‘Evenin’, ladies.’ All three women put down their menus. ‘Well, I’ve got good news and bad news’. The good news is it’s just the alternator. Oh. And battery. I tested it and it’s pretty low on juice. If I was you, I’d replace it too. ‘Specially before a road trip. Now, it’s easy enough t’plop another of each in there. But the bad news is that I don’t have the right kind of alternator in stock. That’s a pretty old model car you got there. But the other good news is that I found one in Sash County, and it’ll be here tomorrow morning first thing. I can prolly get you ladies on the road again before noon. You’re headed down south, right? Kentucky?’

      ‘Uh, Tennessee,’ said Meg. ‘Can you tell us about how much this will cost?’

      ‘Well, I’m gonna give you the battery and alternator at cost, and a discount on the labor.’ He put his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Dad’s orders.’ They all glanced at Purdy, who, his complexion suddenly ruddier than ever, was wiping a spot on the wooden bar with such vigor one would think he held sandpaper, not a clean white towel. Then he disappeared below the counter, and they heard glassware being moved around.

      ‘Well, isn’t that lovely of him!’ said Shelly, clasping her hands together and grinning. Meg discreetly smiled at C.C. C.C. fidgeted with her watch again.

      ‘So, it’ll be around two fifty, maybe three,’ said Mick. ‘I’ll have to pay Kirby for bringing it over here.’

      The levity was suddenly gone from the table. C.C. added it up in her head: that plus the motel bill would wipe out most of what they’d allotted for their entire travel budget to Tennessee. They’d each pooled all they felt they could afford to the Dogs’ Wood Investment Group, the name they’d given themselves, and had agreed to scrimp and save so that they could afford materials and the unexpected. They hadn’t planned on the un expected being the first day of their trip.

      This was another sign. This trip was a mistake. They should probably just head back home, once the car was fixed. C.C. hung her head. The other two wouldn’t be in this mess if not for her.

      ‘Well, if you ladies will excuse me now,’ said Mick. ‘I gotta get Joe СКАЧАТЬ