Not Quite Perfect
Page 58

He twisted back to the counter, looked at the menu. “So you said no, not because you weren’t interested, but because we’re dating?”
Mary rested both hands on the counter. “Could you be more jealous?”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
She was laughing when Carla walked back around.
“And who do we have here?” Carla asked, winking at Mary.
Mary stopped giggling long enough for introductions. “Carla, best waitress in this place and overall wonderful woman, this is Glen.”
Glen set the menu down with a smirk. “Mary’s boyfriend,” he added.
She stopped laughing.
“Is that right?” Carla asked.
“Mary’s exclusive boyfriend,” Glen said as if his first proclamation wasn’t enough.
It was Carla’s turn to laugh. “Well, Mary’s exclusive boyfriend, what are you having?”
“What’s good here?”
“The Reuben,” Mary and Carla said in unison.
By Thursday the plumbers had finally fixed the pipe in her floor and hadn’t found anything past the point where the roots had interrupted the flow of sewage. Mary tried not to enjoy the fact that Glen had taken the task of directing the work on her home, but she had to push all her clients into three days and couldn’t dwell over drywall and paint. She spent most of her spare time talking to insurance agents and mechanics.
At night she fell asleep in Glen’s arms, asking if he was flying home the next day.
Each time he met her question with not yet.
Friday morning the security system went in. Mary had only one client on Friday. By design, she’d been moving her clients around to give her the option of leaving for long weekends.
The technician stood beside a control panel pressing buttons and explaining the system.
Mary mimicked his motions. “So when I’m at home at night, I set it with this button?”
“Right, and when you leave for the day, or night . . . you set this. Giving you more time to turn it off when you come home before the alarm calls the police.”
“Seems simple enough.”
“Then we have a distress mode.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s say you’re on the way in the house and someone comes up behind you . . . tells you to turn off the alarm.”
She shivered. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.
“The code you put in turns the alarm off and notifies the alarm company that you’re in need of the police.”
“So the alarm turns off and whoever is with Mary has no idea the alarm triggered the authorities?”
“Exactly!”
Mary wrapped her arms around herself. “Sounds thorough.”
“Designed to keep you safe when you’re here and when you’re not.”
Mary stood by the control panel, prepared to program her codes, while Glen showed the technician out.
When he returned, he placed an arm around her shoulders, his hand dangling on the other side.
“Thinking of a code?”
She nodded. “Something I’ll remember.”
“Not a birthday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”
“Not your address.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“When were you born?”
She huffed and started pressing buttons. “Good question.”
He noted the code, and her answer. Glen couldn’t help but feel for the meaning behind her words. Mary had no idea when she was born. Something as simple as a birthday Mary couldn’t relate to.
“Now the distress code.” She tapped a nail against the wall in thought, then chuckled before programming it in.
“I’m sure there is a meaning behind that.”
“Danger to self . . . danger to others.”
“Easy to remember?”
“Yeah,” she chuckled.
“Looks like you’re all set.”
Mary leaned into his shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”
“I didn’t do a lot.”
“Says the man who gave up his life this week . . . managed to get the plumbers to take down all this tarp and finish the job. Says the man who fixed the holes, had the walls painted, the floors finished, and managed to get an alarm system that monitors my window, my doors . . . my life in just a few days. No. You didn’t do a lot. You did everything.”
Glen placed a playful smile on his face and looked at the ceiling. “Well, when you put it that way.”
She punched his arm.
He grabbed it, pretended pain. “All I do and you beat on me.”
“Poor baby.”
He took her hands, pinned them to the wall, and kissed her.
She liked this part . . . the playful part where things could get hot and sweaty or simply move on to dinner.
He broke his kiss, stared into her eyes. “So, what are we going to do this weekend?”
She shook her head in amazement. “Don’t you have a life to get back to?”
“Monday. That’s soon enough.”
“I actually had plans this weekend.”
Glen leaned back. “Really?”
“I did. A long weekend. I had to cancel . . . in light of everything.”
“Is that right?”
She could tell by his tone he didn’t believe her.
“I didn’t sit at home every weekend before you came along.”