Not Quite Perfect
Page 62“That didn’t mean I needed to be rude.”
“Nothing twenty Our Fathers won’t remove.”
They both laughed.
Mary Frances jumped up. “Oh, before I forget. The property tax bill came directly to the house. I’m not sure why.” She pulled the papers from her stack on the small workspace that sat on one end of the tiny kitchen. “I didn’t want you to miss it. I considered taking care of it myself.”
“Don’t even think of it.”
“I do make some money.”
Mary noticed Glen watching her during the conversation.
“We’ve had this discussion. Just put the bill in my purse. I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, dear.”
Mary Frances left the room and Glen leaned over. “What’s that about?”
“I, ah . . . I take care of it. This.” She looked over their heads.
“The house?”
“When she left the order she left with nothing. Her real sister helped her out those first few years, once I graduated and started to make a living, I took over.”
“You bought her a house?”
“Prices are nothing here.”
Mary dried the last dish and put it away. “I try to put some away for emergencies. I just didn’t expect so many in one month. I’ll recover.”
He leaned over, kissed her fully. “You’re a beautiful person.”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Ah, you’re just saying that to get lucky.”
He kissed her again and Mary Frances walked back in the room. “Well that’s one way to whistle while you work.”
“She keeps attacking me, Mary Frances. You might have to talk to her about that.”
“For Pete’s sake!” Mary pushed away from Glen.
“It’s about my bedtime,” Mary Frances exclaimed. “Glen, I put a blanket and pillow on the couch for you.”
Mary and Glen exchanged glances.
“That isn’t necessary,” Mary said.
“Oh yes it is. Boyfriend is not the same as husband. Glen sleeps on the couch.”
“But you know that we’ve—”
Mary Frances stopped her with a wave of her hand. “Oh I’m sure that you’ve . . . but not in my home.” She turned and patted Glen on the shoulder. “Besides, abstinence is good for the soul. I’m sure Glen won’t mind.”
Glen eyed the sofa. The small couch that didn’t pull out into a bed.
“You kids get some sleep. We leave at seven for church.”
Mary Frances hugged Mary, kissed her cheek.
Glen didn’t go unhugged and kissed too before she left them alone.
“Separate beds.”
Mary flopped on the couch. “You weren’t going to get any anyway.”
Glen sat beside her. “Oh?”
She shook her head. “Started my period.”
“Ah.” Glen put his arm around her and pulled her close beside him. “Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle.”
She toed off her shoes and tucked her legs under her bottom. “It doesn’t bother you to know about my cycle?”
He played with the edges of her hair. “I’m the exclusive boyfriend. I need to know about these things.”
She closed her eyes and snuggled closer. “Feels strange telling you.”
“Get over it. Now, about church . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first night back on the East Coast while Mary was on the West Coast was the hardest.
He made an hourly check-in once he knew she was home from work. First was a text . . . then a call. He stopped at midnight, then tossed and turned until two in the morning.
“Is it me, or does it feel quiet after all of last week’s excitement?” she asked.
“It’s not you.”
“As the days go on, I can’t help but wonder if maybe everything was random. If someone had something personal against me, wouldn’t they be back for more?”
“I don’t want to think like that.” But the answer was yes. “What about that Jacob guy?”
“I haven’t seen him. His wife said he took off to a cabin they used to visit every summer to regroup.”
“Any idea how long he’s been out of town?”
“I have no idea. He has a job, so I doubt it’s been long.”
Glen glanced out his office window. “Might be why it’s been quiet around there.”
Mary sighed. “I’ve thought of that.”
“So you think he might be behind this?”
“I think I’ve put every client I know in the position of vandal in my head. Jacob being the most recent person who’s been belligerent with me makes him an easy target.”
“I think you should tell the police about him.”
“That isn’t going to happen without something more than just one outburst. Besides, it isn’t always the loud ones that are the problem. It’s the quiet ones who can’t vocalize their feelings who take it out in passive-aggressive ways.”
“Like trashing your place when you’re not there.”