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thing."
"Anything. Just ask."
He looked up at the TV set, where the home shopping channel was celebrating Diamondaire week, with
great buys on cubic zirconium jewelry. "Can we get one of those? The television, I mean."
Laurel laughed through her tears. "It's done."
"Gee," Tamara said from the door, "I guess you two have met, huh?"
"We're old friends," Seth answered softly.
"You wouldn't believe how old," Laurel added, with the first heartfelt laugh she'd given since emerging
from the darkness.
"I'll bid& seven." Jerry looked over the top of his cards with a self-satisfied expression.
"Six," Grandma announced, writing the bids on the score sheet. "Nat?"
"Two," Nathaniel muttered, glaring at his cards.
Jerry guffawed.
"I'm still worried," Nathaniel said suddenly, "About the way she took him out of the hospital. Acting
Against Medical Advice, the nurse kept saying. Is that serious?"
"It means the insurance he never had won't pay," Grandma snapped. "Geez Louise, quit fussing and
play."
Jerry threw down the ace of hearts, beaming.
"And nobody's said a word to us about it," Nathaniel added. "Doesn't that worry you?" He threw a two
down next to Jerry's ace.
"Nope," Grandma returned, pulling a bottle of beer from the clouds. "It tickles me pink."
"Amen," Jerry added. "Throw, Nat."
Nathaniel scratched his head beneath his white wig. "I don't know. It seems so bloody unlikely."
Jerry scooped up the cards and was tapping them into a tidy pile when they heard the soft chiming of a
bell.
"Hey what the hell was that?" Jerry looked around in alarm.
Slowly, with the grace of a falling leaf, a gold-edged paper floated down toward the table.
The three companions exchanged worried looks, and Grandma reached out and grabbed the descending
paper.
"What does it say? What is it, Joyce?"
Grandma's eyes scanned the paper, and she let out her breath in a long sigh. "Listen to this, will you?"
She waved the paper triumphantly, and read: " 'Situation handled admirably, with grace and intelligence.
We extend Our compliments to you. P.S. Did you really believe you were fooling Someone?'"
"That's good!" Jerry cried. "Except for the last part. That was a little high-handed."
There was a distant rumble of thunder, and a downpour of rain began falling from the clouds, dripping
over the three friends.
"Jerry, you idiot," Grandma said. She brushed the raindrops off the glittering letters on her new orange
sweatshirt, life's A BITCH, said the shirt, and then you die.
Chapter Eighteen
Laurel walked up the sunlit path to her front door, balancing a bag of groceries on her hip.
"Mrs. Goodwin! A minute, please!"
Laurel turned toward the voice and offered a smile at her neighbor, who was frowning over the top of the
fence, her crisp gray hair still in rollers.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Martelli?"
Mrs. Martelli looked as if she doubted Laurel's ability to do anything. "It's about your husband. I don't
like to complain "
Laurel was of another opinion altogether.
"But he was out here at six this morning, running that new chain saw. Now, if he wants to saw down
every tree in your yard, that's your business."
Laurel glanced toward the back of the house.
The trees did look as if they'd all had bad haircuts.
"But not at six in the morning."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Martelli. It's a brand-new saw, and he's a little excited about it."
"Last week it was the lawn mower," Mrs. Martelli pointed out. "I've never seen a grown man get so
excited about mowing a lawn."
Laurel shifted the bag of groceries on her hip. "I promise to speak to him." She turned toward the house,
stepping over a package that sat on the doorstep. She glanced at the shipping label and rolled her eyes as
she recognized the address of the TV home shopping network.
Mrs. Martelli gave Laurel a final disapproving look as she turned back to her own house.
"Seth! I'm home!" Laurel pushed through the front door.
The house was alive with noise. Somewhere, a television was blaring, the dishwasher was running in the
kitchen, and the phone was ringing, over and over again.
"Seth?"
The answering machine clicked on, and Laurel smiled as she heard Seth's recorded voice.
"Hello. You've reached Goodwin's Antique Reproductions and Restoration. We're unable to answer the
phone right now, so please leave a message at the tone. Thank you."
Laurel headed for the kitchen and dumped the bag of groceries on the table. An open box of sweetened
cereal sat there, the decoder spy ring prize next to it.
"I hate it when you dig through the cereal," Laurel announced, even though he wasn't in the room.
She opened the garage door, but the work-table lay bare, the power tools silent.
"Seth?" She followed the sound of the TV, and found him in the bedroom, lying across the bed, eyes
riveted to the small television set, remote control in his hand. He wore only a pair of faded Levi's and a
red bandanna tied around his head, pirate-style.
Laurel reached out and turned the TV off.
He looked up, startled. "Hello, sweetheart. Didn't hear you come in."
"I'm not surprised. Think you had the volume up high enough?" She lay on the bed next to him, reaching
out to rub his shoulder. "Seth?"
"What?"
"Why do you have that ridiculous rag on your head?"
He looked offended. "I think I look dashing. I saw it on MTV. I rather thought I looked like that Alex
Rose."
"Axl," Laurel corrected. "Axl Rose, honey." She reached out and tugged the bandanna off and tossed it
to the floor. "And you don't. You're much more handsome."
"I sing better, too," Seth agreed, looking pleased.
"Well, we'll leave that subject for another day. Seth, what did you do to the trees?"
He pulled her over him and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Trimmed them."
"Don't do that again."
He smiled, looking as if he had no intention of listening. "Do you know what came in the mail today?"
Laurel cringed. "Tell me it's not anything from the home shopping channel."
"No, not yet. Though I'm expecting something. No, look& " He reached onto the floor and presented
Laurel with a catalog of lingerie. "Why don't you order this? Look, look at this black lace. I think you'd
look perfect in that."
Laurel stared at the flimsy garment. "You think so, do you?"
"Aye, without doubt. But you know what you'd look better in?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Right now."
Laurel laughed, and obligingly pulled her sweater over her head and unbuttoned her jeans. "Do you ever
quit?"
"I would hope not. You'd divorce me."
He pulled her toward him and trailed a row of kisses across her bare stomach. "I love you."
Laurel reached out and touched his face, marveling that he was real, that he was here. "You'd better," she
told him, "or I'll take your new nail gun and give it to the poor."
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