Читать книгу I Hate Walt - Vicki Andree - Страница 8

After picking up two newspapers from the porch, Eileen Stots used the key to open the front door of Mary Lou’s home. She dropped the papers on the couch and turned on the kitchen lights. She peeked into the master bedroom. Mary Lou obviously packed in a rush. Clothes were strewn about the room, and the bed lay unmade.

Eileen made the bed and started hanging up blouses and pants that had been rejected for the trip. She hummed a Christmas carol as she worked. Poor Mary Lou. I sure hope you get home soon. After tidying up the house and watering the hanging spider plant, she sat on the couch and called Mary Lou’s cell.

“Hullo.” Mary Lou sounded drained.

“Hey, girl. I’m over here cleaning your house—after all, cleanliness is next to godliness. I thought I’d better check it out, since you didn’t get to come home when you expected.”

Mary Lou groaned.

Eileen put her feet up on Mary Lou’s beat-up coffee table. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. Do you have any news about when you can leave?”

“Nothing. I may be here until spring. But I am so glad you called. It’s good to hear a familiar voice. Bobby hasn’t even called.”

“Bobby’s been busy. He’s the local hero, you know.”

“What happened?” Mary Lou asked, voice perking up.

“He caught some guy dressed up as Santa in a high-speed chase. They guy had hijacked a car with a little boy in it, ditched that car, stole another one, and crashed into a McDonald’s out by Denver International Airport.”

“Santa? Christmas is over. Was he high?”

“Don’t know—haven’t got the details. Anyway, Bobby will call when he can. You could call him.”

“I will not do that. I’m not playing the desperate woman. He can call me. I already had to break our date on Christmas Eve. I hope he’s not mad. You know sometimes men can be so sulky.”

Eileen focused on the Monet print on the wall across the room. “Yeah, well, I’ve never seen Bobby Porter sulk. What is your problem?”

“I want to hang up now.”

Eileen shouted into the phone, “Mary Lou, don’t you dare hang up! That’s what you always do when the conversation isn’t going your way. What is the matter with you?”

“Stop yelling! I can hear you. I’m going crazy, that’s what! I am so depressed. This is torture, and nobody cares. Walt got his contract, so he’s happy. He offered to let me use vacation time for the time I’m stranded here. I hate Walt.”

Eileen held the receiver away from her ear, then brought it back to speak softly. “Mary Lou, that’s Walt, and you’ve got to stop hating him. God loves him just as much as He loves you, and you’re supposed to love Walt just like God loves you. Anyway, he can’t take your vacation time today, because it’s Saturday.”

“Love Walt? That will never happen. Is it really Saturday? I thought it was Friday. All I do here is go down to the coffee shop and eat and come back here to my room.”

“Isn’t anyone else there?”

Mary Lou sighed. “Because of the holidays, no. There’s an older couple and the people who work in the coffee shop. They got stranded, too. Thank Heaven they still have food here. I am so tired of bean soup. And it’s cold.”

Eileen sat up straight. “Surely there are some things you can be thankful for.”

“Oh, please. No sermons, now. I can’t handle it. God knows everything, so why am I still here when I want to be home so badly?”

“Aren’t you thankful that you got the contract signed?”

“Of course I am,” Mary Lou said, bristling.

Eileen added, “And you have a nice room.”

Mary Lou countered, “I have a rustic room.”

“Do you have hot water—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I really do want to hang up now. Bye.”