OK no worries, Bree texted.
I’m fine, texted Zona a minute later.You okay?
Yes but bring home wine, Louise texted back.
They would need more Gewürztraminer by dinner because Louise intended to drink what was left in that bottle in the fridge ASAP.
She had just finished vacuuming up the last tiny shards of her broken lamp when her doorbell rang. She wasn’t surprised to find Martin Zuckerman on her doorstep. “I came over to see if you were okay,” he said, attempting to pet Darling, who was excited to see him, jumping on him and trying to lick him. Darling had a lot of poodle in him and he could almost jump high enough to reach Martin’s face.
Martin had moved in two houses down four years earlier. They’d met at a neighborhood garage sale and, both bookworms, had bonded over a selection of books, on sale for fifty cents each. He’d been single for years and was sixty-nine now, one year older than Louise. But, unlike Louise, who considered herself still in her prime—no aches, no pains, only a little overweight but in almost all the right places, and no gray hair (visible, anyway)—Martin looked his age. He was tall and had a nice smile, but he had a belly that refused to be corralled by a belt. He was getting jowly, and his hair was quickly sneaking off his head. Not exactly the stuff dreams were made of.
Not that Louise was a snob when it came to a man’s looks, but she did have dreams. She was going to find herself a studmuffin to skip into her golden years with. Maybe she’d find him on her upcoming Hawaii cruise. She had prospects.
Still, even though Martin wasn’t the most handsome man in town, he had to be one of the kindest, and she enjoyed his friendship. He was always happy to share his latest mystery novel find or help her with her tax returns. Martin was a retired accountant, and he knew his stuff.
“Come on in, I’m about to finish off the wine. Would you care to join me?”
“It’s a little early for me,” he said as he stepped inside.
“Well, it’s not for me, not after that shaking. It’s five o’clock somewhere and it’s earthquake o’clock right here. I’ve been here over forty years, but I swear, I’ll never get used to them,” Louise said as she led the way into the kitchen, her dog beside her.
“I’ve lived in California all my life and I’m still here. I bet we’ll both survive another forty years,” Martin assured her.
Considering Martin’s current physical condition, she wasn’t sure he’d make it another twenty. If they were in a serious relationship, she’d be whipping him into shape in a hurry.
He picked her laptop off the floor where it had fallen, then settled at the table.
“I hope my laptop didn’t get broken,” she said, and opened it to check. She was relieved to see that it was still working.
“Were you starting your mystery novel?”
“No.” She closed the laptop.
He frowned. “Oh, you’re getting ready for your singles cruise?”
The scorn in his voice irritated her. She’d mentioned the cruise when she first signed up and suggested he come along, too, and he’d pooh-poohed it. He was still pooh-poohing.
“I’m already meeting some nice people,” she said. She dumped some shelled pistachios in a bowl and set them in front of him and he dug in without hesitation. Then she gaveDarling a doggy treat so he wouldn’t feel left out. After surviving that unnerving shakeup, everyone deserved a treat.
“I’m sure you have, but you have to be careful, Louise,” Martin cautioned. “You’re too trusting. Remember that con artist Bree saved you from at Christmas?”
“Anyone could have been taken in by him,” Louise insisted. She poured the last of the wine into a glass and took a healthy slug. First the earthquake and now Martin the doomsayer. And her day had been going so well.
He shook his head. “An American working in Turkey, all ready to come home and meet you until someone broke into his truck and stole all his tools, and he just needed a little loan until he could sort things out?”
In hindsight, Louise could clearly see how the creep had slowly wooed her, feeding her lies like a little piggy being fattened for a trip to the slaughterhouse.
“I’d already come to the conclusion that it was a scam,” she said. Or at least had been getting suspicious. So there. “And I didn’t send him anything,” she added.
“I remember you were considering it.”
“I was not,” she insisted. “And a singles cruise isn’t the same as an online scam.”
“It could be,” he insisted right back. “There could be all kinds of fakers on that ship. People lie.”
She thought of her daughter’s ex-husband. “Yes, they do.”
Had Gary been a liar when Zona first met him? Or had his gambling addiction hatched the behavior?
