Earnest (15 page)

C
HAPTER
29

O
ne evening after Joy and Lauren had gone home, Anna stayed late with Earnest to get ready for Thanksgiving. As usual when a holiday approached, Grammy was on her mind. Tonight Anna was remembering Grammy's favorite motto, “Waste Not, Want Not,” because it had inspired the Thanksgiving bouquets Anna planned to make.

Grammy had taught her to piece old clothes into quilts and braid lavender stems into wands for birthday gifts. She and Anna had picked up neighbors' windfall apples and turned them into sauce. They'd gathered fir swags and pinecones in the woods for Christmas wreaths. “Free gifts are everywhere. All you have to do is find them,” Grammy had said.

If there were ever a time when Anna needed free gifts, that time was now—when her savings were dwindling, Christmas expenses were looming, and her wholesale floral supplier had sent a cringe-inspiring bill. To save money on arrangements, Anna had been drying Queen Anne's lace she picked on roadsides, magnolia leaves that old Mr. Webster let her cut from his tree, and every flower that didn't sell in her shop. On walks in the forest with Earnest, she'd collected pinecones and pods to tuck into bouquets. For vases, Anna had hollowed out small pumpkins left over from Halloween, and bought pitchers and mugs from the New to You Shop.

Now all she needed were gourds for centerpieces and she'd be set. She roused Earnest from his lily pad and drove to Thrifty Market, where she left him in Vincent with a promise to buy him people crackers. Since his last walk with her and Jeff, he'd deigned to pick at his kibble, but he'd not yet returned to his vulture days. He'd let her know he wanted treats.

In the market, Anna rolled a grocery basket to the pet supply department. Late in the day close to Thanksgiving, Thrifty Market was packed, and shoppers zoomed along the aisles like kamikaze pilots. She dodged and wove to the back of the store, grabbed Earnest's people crackers, and moved on to the produce, where she picked out gourds in primitive shapes that seemed to have to do with sex and war: torpedo, phallus, belly dancer, fertility goddess, and pregnant hand grenade.

Since she was near Thrifty's flower stand, she aimed her basket down the aisle to check out her competition, though the skimpy selection had never rivaled hers. She expected shopworn African violets in plastic pots and weary irises clumped together with rubber bands. But when she turned the corner, she froze. She felt as if this year's Mr. Universe had whomped her on the back and knocked the breath from her.

An entire alcove of the store had been transformed into a new “Floral Department,” spelled out in gold letters nailed to the wall. Containers of vibrant long-stemmed flowers were lined up below shelves of sumptuous plants and brightly colored vases. Anna's eyes moved from roses and carnations, to tulips and lilies, to mixed bunches, tastefully designed. Off to the side was a sleek chrome counter, behind which a newly hired florist filled orders. An eagerness to please seemed to float through the upscale air.

Clearly, Thrifty Market was giving Anna a run for her limited money. The owner was kicking her while she was down. If Earnest had not been waiting for his people crackers, Anna would have left her basket in the floral department and fled. But she could not disappoint her dog. She reminded herself to breathe as she made her way toward the three grocery checkers at the front of the store. Her hands cold from shock, she got in line. She looked around.

Of all the countless nights she'd come here—and after the floral department ambush—wouldn't you know that this would be the night when Jeff was moving through the line to her left? And wouldn't you know that when he reached the pretty blonde checker with the bouncy ponytail, he beamed at her? His smile never faded as she lifted orange juice and bananas from his basket and her long red nails punched in the costs on her register.

Gimlet-eyed, Anna watched the woman lean toward Jeff and hang on his every word. As he gazed at her, the outside edges of his eyes slanted like they did when he focused on an attractive woman. When she spoke, he laughed too loud.
He was flirting! How
could
he?!
Anna turned her head to keep from seeing more, but then she looked back, an iron file helpless against a magnet.

She may be mad at Jeff, but she had not gone blind, and he was still an attractive man. It took no more than the sight of him to resurrect the pleasure of his arms around her, the solidity of his chest, and the shelter of his broad shoulders. But she would
not
let herself dwell on his assets. No, sir! Not till hell froze over.

Anna told herself that there were other good-looking men in the world. More busses would come to her station, more cookies would appear in her jar, along with more tools in her shed. If there were more fish in the sea, Anna would not settle for a shark—and that was what Jeff was. A shark! Rather than dwell on his broad shoulders, she would think of sharp killer teeth.

However, as Anna carried her torpedo and hand-grenade gourds through the parking lot, Jeff's laugh and the upscale air from the floral department seemed to waft through Thrifty's door behind her. What had she done to deserve tonight's double whammy? Well, she would not let either whammy gnaw at her. Definitely not. Still, by the time she reached Vincent, her spirit had shriveled like brown edges on the leaves of an unwatered plant.

C
HAPTER
30

N
othing like a holiday to dredge up loneliness
. As Jeff rolled his shopping basket toward Thrifty Market's frozen foods, he felt like the last person in America with no Thanksgiving plans. All the happy people shopping for their Norman Rockwell dinners stoked his isolation. He might as well have washed up on a Pacific island, and the only sign of human life was Amelia Earhart's skeleton.

Jeff reminded himself that friends
had
invited him for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, and he'd turned them down. He'd not wanted to leave Earnest alone in the apartment after his assault on the drafting table's leg. Jeff would never let him get anxious like that again. Tomorrow they would celebrate Thanksgiving together.

Jeff had bought a turkey roast for them. At the Creamery he'd get blackberry cheesecake ice cream—as close as he could come to the blackberries Earnest liked to bite off bushes—and Jeff would serve him his own little bowl. For trimmings, they were going to share a frozen turkey dinner. Jeff stopped in front of the freezer's glass door and studied the brands—Stouffer's, Lean Cuisine, and Hungry-Man. Each package heralded a scrumptious meal on a china plate, but, what awaited him inside the cardboard wrap, besides a turkey slice, was a compartmented plastic tray of overcooked dressing, potatoes, and vegetables.

The pickings would seem puny after last year's feast with Anna. They'd smoked a turkey on his outdoor barbecue, which she still had, and he intended to get back, though he hadn't drummed up enthusiasm for grilling on his balcony over the gas station. Jeff had mashed the potatoes, and Anna had produced a lumpless gravy that would have brought Martha Stewart to her knees. In honor of her grandmother, Anna had also made a green bean casserole as close as she could get to the one she remembered as a child, and a pecan pie that she and Jeff polished off in two days.

I'm going to miss that dinner,
Jeff thought as he studied the dismal frozen offerings. If he were honest, he also missed other things. He'd lost plenty since he and Anna had broken up. First and foremost was the obvious: He'd lost the woman he loved and their family of three.

He'd lost the condo, and he'd sunk to a seedy apartment. He'd lost three years of history with Anna; there was no one to look back with on their shared pleasures and traditions. And his routine had been blown out of the water—no more tending Earnest together, or waking up to Anna's breakfast, or washing and folding her sweet-smelling laundry on Saturday afternoons. No more late-night movies, dancing around the living room, conjugal trips to the bedroom. NO MORE SEX! Heaven only knew how horny Jeff was.

He tossed the Hungry-Man dinner into his basket with the turkey roast and thought that his list of losses could nudge him off a cliff to a canyon of depression. But Jeff would
not
give in to that.
What's done is done. You can't go home again,
he told himself. It was time to leave Anna behind and move on.

Jeff stopped in the produce department for Earnest's Granny Smith apples. Two women were picking through the Honey Crisps. One was too old for him, though she looked damned good for fifty-something. The other, as curvy as a Delicious apple, had sumptuous breasts that were fighting a mighty battle against her tight black-and-white-striped sweater. Jeff's eyes moved from the single pearl on a gold chain around her neck to her cleavage, which looked like a shadowy tunnel down which his hand could slide to paradise. A hint of her spicy perfume floated across the apples toward him.

Indeed, it was time to get on with his life.

 

At his apartment, Jeff sat at his computer, which he'd finally taken from the condo one Friday night when collecting Earnest—along with his file cabinet, TV, wingback chair, carving knives, and toaster oven. As the computer screen lit up, he felt as if he were about to shoot a gun into the air and start a race, though he, a horny man, would be the only contestant. At the finish line would be a sexy woman who would love and value him. The thought of someone waiting for him out there brought a flush of excitement.

On his Web browser, Jeff typed in NorthwestSingles.com and clicked on the site. So far, so good. He chose Fun2BWith for his username and lookingforsome1 as his password. He typed in his birth date and e-mail address, then got down to details, such as his range of income (seventy-five to a hundred thousand), occupation (creative/artistic profession), and education (BA). He paused at body build. Was he slender? Average? Athletic? How was he supposed to answer? He checked “average,” then “never married” and “no kids.”

Choosing his preferences for women piqued his anticipation. He clicked on “blonde,” “blue eyed,” “slender,” and “liberal” before he realized that he was describing Anna. He paused and fixed his eyes on the brick wall across the alley behind his apartment. Was he looking for Anna's replacement? Could you substitute one woman for another? Definitely not, he decided, no more than he could substitute another Lab for Earnest. Better to strike out into unknown terrain.

Still, Jeff had always liked blondes, and he saw no harm in sticking to his established taste. He returned to checking preferences—“social drinker,” “nonsmoker.” (
Anna again, but so what?
) When Jeff got to the pitch he was supposed to make about himself, the challenge nearly made him turn off the computer and forget his quest. But no teacher brandishing a red pen would mark up his statement, he told himself. He forged on.

He was looking for someone fun, thoughtful, and caring, he said. And someone interested in spending quality time with him. He wanted a companion for hiking, camping, cross-country skiing, and going to art exhibits, concerts, and movies. And he loved his dog, so anyone he met could not be scared of Labrador retrievers. That was essential.

Finally, Jeff uploaded his firm's Web site photo of himself looking respectable at his office drafting table. Relieved to finish, he sent off his application and imagined it zooming with fervor to NorthwestSingles.com. Forty-five minutes later, his computer pinged to let him know an e-mail had arrived in his inbox. NorthwestSingles.com had approved him and sent his four allotted matches for the day. Hunting season had begun!

With a quiver of anticipation, Jeff studied the first woman. She looked wholesome. She might have spent summers rubbing sticks together for Girl Scout campfires. She wore wire-framed glasses, so if Jeff kissed her, they'd both have to whip theirs off in unison. Not a problem. She said she was ready to fall in love and was looking for fun with an active, confident, clever man.

So they both wanted fun, but Jeff wondered if he could consider himself clever. Then he decided it was not for him to say. When he saw that the woman had listed her occupation as creative/artistic, his heart stood at attention. He marked her as a favorite.

Next was a woman whose user name was VIVACIOUS!—all caps and an exclamation mark that no one could ignore. She was pretty in her low-cut black dress. So far so good. However, she said that she was “extremely intuitive and could read people like a book” so she needed an honest man.
What would happen if someone lied to her?
But Jeff was honest, and he didn't lie. He marked her as a favorite too.

Then came a woman who had cheeks slightly on the chipmunk side, but that was not enough to rule her out. She'd checked off her body type as “a few extra pounds,” however, and in her bio she wrote that she loved cake and mentioned twice that she enjoyed trying new recipes and cooking new foods. Among her hobbies, she listed cooking, dining out, and watching cooking shows. Maybe all she did was eat. Jeff left her at her table and pressed on.

The final match showed the photo of a woman who said her name was Alice Spanker, she had a career in a “fun industry,” and she liked to do backflips.
What am I supposed to do with all that?
Equally problematic, she was sticking out her tongue. Most likely for an invitation? She wrote, “I want a man willing to stomp on all spiders.”
She doesn't want a boyfriend—she wants an exterminator.
No favorite for her.

Jeff leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Two favorites out of four possibilities today. Fifty percent. He couldn't complain. He'd send messages to the first two women, and tomorrow morning he'd see if they replied. Now when he woke, he had something to look forward to. It was not like rolling over in bed and snuggling up to Anna, but he'd see where NorthwestSingles.com led.