Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

the screened porch. Those are the rooms that are going to take the most work.”

“Still,” Wyatt said, walking into the abbreviated hall and then into the bedroom. “When you said this morning that the place was a mess, I was picturing something much, much worse.”

“You should have seen it the first day I got here,” Grace said, wrinkling her nose. “If my camera had smell-a-vision, I could have totally grossed out everybody on the Internet. It was so, so, nasty. Rotting wall-to-wall carpet, skanky old appliances. Everything was filthy. And that bedroom, where they’d locked Sweetie…” She shuddered.

“Are you ready to knock off for the day?” Wyatt asked.

“I don’t even know how late it is. I kind of lost track of time.”

“It’s nearly six,” Wyatt said. “Bo and I are going for pizza. We were wondering if you’d like to join us?”

“Pizza?”

“There’s a place just over on Holmes Beach,” he said. “Arturo’s. Nothing fancy, but it’s good and it’s cheap, and if we get there reasonably early, we can get a table on the beach and watch the sunset.”

Grace glanced at Sweetie. “What about her?”

“It’s pet-friendly,” Wyatt promised. “As long as we get a table outside.”

She glanced down at her paint-spattered, braless self. “I can’t go like this.”

“Sure you can,” Wyatt said. “Bo and I don’t care. And neither does Sweetie.”

“But I do,” she said gently. “Certain standards must be maintained. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you guys go ahead to Arturo’s. I’ll get cleaned up and meet you over there in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty minutes?” he scoffed. “I’ve never known a woman yet who could shower and change and show up someplace in that little time.”

“Thirty minutes,” Grace swore. “If I’m one minute late, the pizza’s on me.”

*   *   *

At precisely 6:30, Grace hurried through the door at Arturo’s. She was dressed in a pair of white capris, a black tank top, and a pair of gold metallic sandals from Pay-Less. Her hair was still wet from the shower and the only makeup she wore was a bit of coral lipstick. A pair of simple gold-hoop earrings sparkled at her ears, and around her neck she wore a necklace made from a tiny nautilus shell she’d found on the beach, hanging from a long thin gold chain. She walked through the main dining room and through a set of doors onto an expansive veranda, where she spied Wyatt and Bo sitting at a table close to the beach.

Wyatt’s eyes swept over her appreciatively. He scrambled to his feet and gently pulled his son to a standing position, too.

“You clean up pretty good,” he told her, pulling out a chair for her.

“And fast,” she reminded him. “Thirty minutes. That might be a new land record for me.”

“I guess that means dinner’s on me,” he said.

*   *   *

They ordered the Arturo’s special, which meant a huge pie with everything, including pepperoni, Italian sausage, onions, peppers, olives, and anchovies; a glass of milk for Bo; and a pitcher of beer for the adults.

“Anchovies?” Grace asked, glancing over at Bo, who’d devoured two slices of pizza in the time it took Grace to work her way through one. “Your kid likes anchovies?”

The boy looked up, his face smeared with enough tomato sauce to fashion another whole pie. “I love anchovies!” he exclaimed, his broad smile revealing two missing front teeth.

“I haven’t found anything he doesn’t love,” Wyatt said ruefully. “He’s eating me out of house and home. I swear, every week he’s grown another two inches.”

“I’m the third tallest boy in first grade,” Bo reported. “Cory Benton was the second tallest, but he’s not going to our school next year, so I’ll be the second tallest. Unless I grow some more, and then I’d be the first tallest.” He took a gulp of milk and stood up, whispering in his father’s ear.

Wyatt nodded. “It’s inside, near the bar. Don’t forget to wash your hands, and come right back here, okay?”

When he was gone, Grace took a sip of beer. “What a nice boy. I love that he’s figured out he’s the third tallest.”

“He’s fascinated with numbers and statistics,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “I do not know where he gets it. There are no bean counters in my family, and certainly none in his mother’s. I haven’t had the heart to point out to him that if Callie gets her way, he won’t get to be the second tallest boy in the second grade at his school, because he’ll be going to a new school. In Birmingham.”

“Maybe it won’t come to that,” Grace said.

36

Bo came bounding back to the table. “Guess what, Dad? Scout’s here! She and Coach Anna and her dad are eating dinner. Can I go sit with them for a while?”

Wyatt half stood, craned his neck, and spotted Anna and her family in the dining room. Anna nodded and pointed to an empty chair at the table and Wyatt gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Okay, but are you all done with your pizza?”

He eyed the last remaining piece on the tray. His father scooped it up into a napkin and handed it to him, and Bo ran off to join his friend.

“Anna’s assistant coach on Bo’s T-ball team,” Wyatt said casually. “Scout’s our pitcher, and Bo’s best friend—on days he doesn’t think girls are icky.”

“What about Bo’s father? Does he still think girls are icky?” Grace kept her tone playful.

“No, I’m a reformed girl hater.” He reached across the table and tucked a strand of her damp hair behind her ear. “Especially where present company is concerned.”

“Good to know,” Grace said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’s your dad doing? You said he was pretty worn out today?”

“He’s okay,” Wyatt said. “I’m just going to have to get used to the idea that he’s not getting any younger. All my life, he was this rugged, can-do guy. He literally did everything and anything at Jungle Jerry’s: he built buildings, including the gift shop; paved the parking lot; dug the reflecting pond