Ethan gave him a pat on the shoulder. “No, you haven’t. I, uh, actually appreciate you telling me. I get the sense she’s been … hurt.”
“You can say that again,” Mr. Grambel said. “That husband of hers was so critical of her, I had to wonder if he really even liked women—if you … get my drift.”
Ethan got his drift.
“I mean, if he didn’t, that’s okay. But if that was the case, why marry one? I guess that’s my point. Why be so awful to a woman any man in his right mind would have viewed as a blessing?” He shook his head sadly.
“I see your point,” Ethan said.
“Yes, well,” his neighbor said too cheerily, “I guess I’d better head on home.”
Ethan polished off the lemonade and passed him the glass. “Thank Mrs. Grambel for me,” he said.
“Will do,” he said with a wave as he started back across the street.
Ethan made a quick decision to head back up to his roof to hurriedly retrieve a couple shingle remnants he’d left behind, before it became too warm to go up there at all. His thoughts returned to his conversation with Mr. Grambel. It bothered him to think Marcia had been married to a man who apparently had no appreciation for her. Had he even loved her?
He was just grabbing the last shingle when she pulled up in her car. He watched her hurry out and run for the front door. He could see her struggling with her key, and wondered, was she upset? Did she need help?
Rather than rush headlong into her life, which he suspected was the last thing she would want, he sat back on the roof and made a play of checking a shingle. Periodically, he glanced toward her house. His attention was drawn to the front curb when a sleek, black car drew to a stop. A man climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked briskly toward the front door. Ethan could hear his clipped knock from his rooftop perch.
Soon, he saw Marcia open her front door. She didn’t invite the man in, but gestured for him to give her a moment. He waited on the stoop, his stiff posture and tapping foot evidence of his impatience.
Ethan eyed him then, taking in the tight, close-cropped dark curls. Was his view distorted by distance?—because the guy’s head looked kind of small. But then, he was thin and compact, so maybe his head was proportionate to his body.
Ethan shook his head. What did he care anyway? And since when did he study a guy in detail? He gave a sheepish grin, hoping no one had noticed him staring, since they might have seen that his skin had taken on a greenish hue. The thought of a man at Marcia’s door made him uncomfortable, and he knew why. He was jealous.
As discreetly as he could manage, he resumed his perusal of his neighbor’s visitor. The man wore crisp, dark slacks and a white, button down dress shirt. He recognized his tie as high-end and a match to one in his own closet. His shoes were polished to a sleek shine.
He cocked his head to the side, trying to get a read on the guy. Suddenly, he got a reading loud and clear. Collette would have called him a pretty boy, and this time, he would have been in full agreement with her.
Finally, Marcia reappeared. She was struggling to carry a massive chest. Ethan watched her as she fought to maintain a hold of the side handles. She carried it stiff-armed, while the bulk of the thing bumped against the front of her thighs with each difficult step she took.
His eyes widened. Clearly the chest was heavy, yet the man made no move to take it from her. Instead, he stepped aside, and nodded toward the car, before he walked briskly ahead of her and opened the trunk with a keyless remote. His manner was simply rude, dismissive of Marcia, and made Ethan’s blood boil.
He was off the roof and dropping down the ladder in a flash. He jogged across his lawn, over her driveway, and to her. Her eyes widened with surprise as he took the chest from her. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
She gave him a perplexed look. “Oh, I’m returning this chest to, uh, my ex- husband.”
“Yeah, I see that.” He gave her a look of absolute confusion, which prompted her to give him an equally confused look.
“It was in my attic, and he wanted it back,” she said, though it really wasn’t any of his business.
He hefted it slightly to gauge its weight. “It’s really heavy,” he declared. “Too heavy for you to be lifting. Did you carry it down all those stairs?” he demanded, clearly alarmed at the prospect.
“No, I put a blanket under it and pulled it down. Besides, I’m used to lifting heavy things,” she assured him.
“It’s not a good idea,” he said curtly.
“Well, actually, I do own a hardware store, so heavy lifting goes with the territory,” she reminded him.
By now, Jay began walking toward them both, a look of absolute confusion on his face. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing from Ethan to Marcia. “I’m in a hurry.” He eyed the chest. “You didn’t damage it, did you?”
“This thing is heavy,” Ethan said, indicating the chest and then watching Jay as if he were a space alien.
“Yeah, okay,” Jay said brusquely. “Put it in the trunk, will you?”
Ethan glanced at Marcia and shook his head in bewilderment. To her surprise, and Jay’s, he tossed the trunk toward him, where it landed with a thump at his feet.
The smaller man took a quick, high step back. “Hey, you almost ruined my shoes!”
“Hey, you almost ruined her back!” Ethan said angrily, indicating Marcia with a nod.
Jay gave him a caustic look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, did it occur to you to carry that thing? Or at minimum, to help her? You’re a man,” he prompted, as if hopeful a light bulb might go on in the other man’s undersized head.
Jay sneered. “You’ve heard of equal rights, right?”
Ethan took a step toward him, which prompted Jay to take a step back. “Are you for real?” he demanded. “Do you really see absolutely no problem standing by and allowing a woman to potentially injure herself lifting your furniture?”
“It’s more luggage than furniture,” he snapped with a haughty air.
“Are you for real?” Ethan demanded again. He turned to Marcia. “Is he for real?”
“Oh, he’s for real,” Marcia murmured, wishing the ground would open up and swallow the lot of them.
“Well, are you going to put it in my trunk or what?” Jay demanded. “I have a bad back, you know.”
“Oh, okay, I understand,” Ethan said snidely, but made no move toward the trunk. Instead, he turned to Marcia. “It’s lunch time. Can I take you out?”
Marcia glanced at him uncertainly, and then at her ex-husband, who now watched Ethan would unconcealed contempt. Ethan returned his hostile glare. “That trunk of yours isn’t going to load itself,” he reminded him.
Suddenly, the standoff was interrupted by the slam of a car door. All three glanced over at the shiny, gold convertible now parked in Ethan’s driveway. Gwen climbed out of the car slowly. After closing the door, she glanced around, and then apparently spotted Ethan in the nearby yard. She gave a wave and headed his way, unsteady in her six-inch heels.
The statuesque woman struggled to cross the lawn, her heels puncturing the grass with each halting step. Each time a sharp heel pierced the soil, it took concerted effort on her part to pull it back out. Marcia wondered why she didn’t take her shoes off. It was a warm day. The grass was dry.
Jay watched Gwen’s approach with interest, his eyes doing a pass over her slim, elegant body. Ethan watched her approach with trepidation. Marcia watched her approach with a desperate wish for an early morning do-over. Why had she dressed in her overalls? For once, couldn’t she have been a bit more polished?
Jay suddenly dashed toward the woman, taking her elbow in order to help her stay upright. It wasn’t until Ethan witnessed the gentlemanly gesture on the part of a guy he suspected was anything but a gentleman, that he realized, he’d just failed to be one.
He gave Marcia a worried glance. He hoped she didn’t think less of him fo
r his failure to act appropriately.
With a sigh, Marcia turned to go. She really didn’t have time for lunch anyway.
She wasn’t the least bit curious to know what this woman wanted, and she really wanted to put some distance between herself and Jay.
She’d had yet another epiphany. She realized her ex put her in the same species classification as a pack mule. She promptly decided that put her in the classification of stupid. She definitely had some thinking to do.
“Good-bye,” she murmured to Ethan, and turned to leave. To her dismay, he restrained her with a gentle hand.
When Gwen and Jay reached them, Jay released Gwen’s elbow and shot out a hand in greeting. “Well, hello,” he said. “I’m Jay, and you are…?”
“Gwen. Gwen Mannington,” she purred. “Thank you so much for your help crossing this jungle.” She gave a laugh that sounded much like ice dropping into a glass. “I could have used a machete to get through it,” she complained.
Marcia experienced a pique of temper. Although her back lawn could presently be likened to a jungle, the front was perfectly manicured. She worked hard at it.
“Did you need something, Gwen?” Ethan asked, planting his feet farther apart and folding his arms across his chest. He reminded Marcia of a steely-eyed State Trooper, ready to tangle with an unruly suspect. She wondered why.
“Well, yes, love,” she replied sweetly. “We need to ta—”
“Your hair color is just striking,” Jay interrupted, taking a step closer to Gwen and studying her platinum tresses. He actually took a tendril between his fingers. “Is your color natural? It is, isn’t it?” He gave an appreciative whistle. “Beautiful.” He glanced up and snared her gaze. “You’re beautiful.”
Before Gwen could respond to his compliment, he turned to Marcia. “You’d look better with that hair color. I’ve always told you you’d look better with lighter blond hair, but you know how you are. You just don’t listen.” He shook his head dismissively and turned to give Gwen a sly smile. “She has absolutely no fashion sense either.” He smiled seductively. “My guess is, that’s your natural color. Am I right?” When she nodded coyly, he gushed, “Gorgeous, just gorgeous.”
Ethan gave him an alarmed glance, and turned to Marcia, shaking his head in shock. Had that schmuck really just told his ex-wife she should change her hair color? If he didn’t like Marcia’s hair color—and apparently little else about her—why had he married her? His hands balled into fists, and he had to forcibly extend his fingers to prevent them from seeking out the other man’s jaw. He wasn’t usually the violent type, but he was suddenly feeling angry and protective. And he was confident he could squish Jay like a bug.
“Well, thank you,” Gwen crooned. “And yes, I was born with this hair color. It’s as natural as the sun,” she said, smoothing a slender hand along the side of her head.
Natural? Right. Gwen was about as natural as a packaged diet meal, Ethan thought, and then felt bad for his snappish behavior. He had a sudden epiphany. Gwen had never brought out the best in him. She had studied at the school of mean girl, and he’d put up with her haughty ways. What had possessed him?
Gwen extended her hand to Jay, who promptly took it in his. “And what is it you do for a living … Jay?” she asked, flashing him a seductive, come-hither smile.
“I’m in real estate,” he told her, squaring his narrow shoulders.
Sure, Marcia thought, if you ever manage to pass the real estate exam.
Gwen discreetly glanced toward the street, noticing the fine luxury car at the curb, and then turned back to him. “How interesting,” she purred. “I’d love to hear all about your work.”
He made a play of checking his watch. “I do have a meeting…” He made a grand, dismissive gesture with both hands. “For you, I’ll cancel. May I take you to lunch?”
Gwen was clearly enchanted by the offer. “Why, that would be simply wonderful.” She turned to Ethan. “Darling, I’m afraid we’ll have to talk later.”
He nodded numbly, and then watched as Jay struggled to carry the chest as Gwen hobbled beside him, towering a head above him, and making absolutely no move to help him with the cumbersome storage chest. They made for quite a pair as Jay fought to hold onto the chest, while Gwen tipped from side to side with each step she took.
Marcia wondered again why the woman didn’t slip out of the heels to make walking easier. Or she could have walked on the paved driveway, rather than the lawn.
Ethan took a step back, to stand beside Marcia. Unbeknownst to either, each tipped their respective heads in the same direction, as if contemplating an odd sight. They watched as, at the car, Gwen stood beside the passenger side door, waiting for Jay to open it for her. Marcia suspected her hands had yet to ever come into contact with an actual door handle, or knob, for that matter.
“Oh, Ethan,” she called suddenly, “be a doll! Watch my car for me until I return.” She made a play of checking out the neighborhood, and gave a shudder. “Darling, what are you thinking, moving into this area of town? I do hope you lock all your doors and windows at night.” She gave another dramatic shudder for emphasis.
“Yes, darling,” he said beneath his breath, as if seeing her for the first time, “what was I thinking?”
Marcia, still beside him, watched Jay with an emotion akin to sympathy. He simply couldn’t manage to get that chest into the trunk. Should she help him?
Apparently, Ethan had the same thought. “For crying out loud,” he muttered, and strode toward the smaller man. He grasped the chest and easily tossed it into the large trunk. “There, you’re good to go.”
Without a word of thanks, Jay slammed the trunk closed and hurried to open Gwen’s door. She slid into the car, gingerly lifting her long legs onto the floorboard with practiced refinement, assuring Jay got a lingering look at her best feature.
“So…” Marcia ventured as Ethan returned to her side. “She’s … your ex?”
He nodded. “Yeeepppp.”
She nodded, and then said too cheerfully. “It was nice of her to aerate my lawn for me. Maybe she can come back later and finish the job, since she missed a couple of spots.”
Ethan gave her a blank stare, and then burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t count on it.” He managed to stop chuckling after a moment. “Sooo … that … was your ex?”
She nodded.
“And that was his storage chest?”
She nodded again.
“Did you ever consider putting him in it?”
She burst out laughing, but stifled it post haste. “It crossed my mind,” she admitted, still chuckling under her breath. “It definitely crossed my mind.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Hey, Marcia,” Angie called, “would you mind checking this order? Mr. Gleason needs five gallons of sienna paint, and I want to make sure I’m not ordering fifty.”
“Or five hundred,” Collette supplied. The teenager was sitting behind the front counter, studying her finger nails.
“Don’t you have homework?” her mother asked her testily.
“Nope,” she informed. “I’m waiting for Drew to pick me up. We’re going out for ice cream.”
“But you haven’t even had your dinner,” Angie said.
“Oh, if only we had her metabolism,” Marcia quipped, as she bypassed looking at the clipboard Angie thrust in front of her face. “I trust you, my friend,” she said.
“Just the same…”
Collette took the clipboard instead. “Looks good, Mom. Can I borrow twenty bucks?”
“No,” Angie said without pause.
“Oh, all right.” She slid off the stool and walked briskly to the front of the store, where the paper boy had just slipped the day’s newspaper through a slot in the door. Retrieving it, she returned to her stool and began reading.
“Anything interesting?” Marcia asked, glancing around the store and noting it was currently empty. It had been a slow day. She deplored slow days.
Suddenly, C
ollette burst out with a surprised laugh. “Oh, look. Isn’t that your pretty boy?”
Marcia gave her a curious glance. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah, look. It’s Ethan Winslow, featured in the business section.” The teenager studied his photo. “I have to admit, he is hot.”
“Collette,” Angie chided. “He’s too old for you.”
“He isn’t too old for Marcia.” She turned toward her. “He likes you, by the way.”
Marcia gave a dubious laugh. “What does the article say?”
Collette scanned the lengthy piece. “Well, apparently his company is nearly done with a new high-rise building downtown. Let’s see… Oh, it gives his bio—yada, yada, yada—and then describes the building. I guess it’s going to have condos on the upper levels and retail space on the lower levels.” She shrugged. “Bor…ing…”
Marcia took the article from her and scanned it, before her eyes lit on Ethan’s photo. Dressed in a dark suit, with his hair cut shorter than he currently wore it, he looked polished and professional. She passed the paper back to Collette, who promptly turned to the society pages.
She let out a squeal. “Oh, my gosh, Marcia! Is that your ex with um … Gwen Mannington?”
Marcia saw that indeed, Jay was in a photo with a smiling Gwen. “Huh,” was all she could manage.
Collette studied the picture intently. “Jay’s head is too small for his body,” she commented.
Angie snatched the paper from her daughter. “What is Jay doing with that woman?” She pinned Marcia with a look. “Did you know about this?”
She shrugged in response. “They met a couple days ago. Jay came by my house to get something, and she stopped by to see Ethan. They met, and apparently, hit it off.”
Angie shook her head in surprise. “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” Collette echoed. “I’m right, you know. Jay has a tiny head.”
“Collette,” Marcia warned, stifling a laugh.
“Well, it is. I noticed it before this picture confirmed it for me.” She glanced up. “You know what they say… Tiny cranium, tiny brain…”
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