Then thereâs the being-at-the-mercy-of-a-tour-groupâs-schedule factor.â
âYeah, itâs that last thing that would stop me,â Treena agreed and asked the other woman to grab the cookies. She poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the small dining room table. âStrangers, you can always get to know. But Iâd want to be able to explore all the sights on my own timetable.â She reached for a cookie. âDonât any of your friends want to go? I know Iâd go with you in a heartbeat if I had any vacation time coming.â She smiled ruefully. âWell, that, and if it were even remotely in my budget.â
âI took an early retirement and most of my friends are still working. And the only one of them I can actually imagine living with day in and day out for three straight weeks is Lois. In fact, weâve sort of dream-planned this trip for years, and this fall was going to be the time when we actually took it. But her daughter in Minnesota found out two months ago that after years of trying sheâs finally pregnant, so Lois is saving up her vacation time instead to go help out after the baby is born.â Ellen raised one delicate-fingered hand and sipped her coffee. âIâll probably just postpone the trip until next year when sheâs free to join me.â
âYou must be so disappointed, though. Iâm sorry.â
Ellen flashed her an affectionate smile and reached across the table to pat her hand. âYouâre a good girl.â
âCan I have that in writing? My parents are positive my job is a one-way ticket to hell.â
âAh.â The older woman nodded wisely. âI imagine itâs hard for them to realize their baby dances topless in one of the shows.â
âUm, no, that would merely be the clincher. Theyâve pretty much reserved my handbasket for the trip without ever having learned that part.â
Someone pounded on the front door and they both jumped. Treena got up to answer it, stopping to peek through the peephole first to see who it was. âAh, Mack,â she said. He was the neighbor who lived on the other side of her.
Ellen made a small hissing sound of disapproval, but Treena ignored it and opened the door. âHey there,â she said to the burly man on her threshold and cocked an eyebrow. âIs the building on fire?â
âNope. But rumor has it your libido is. Hear youâve got yourself a hot new guy.â
âBoy, that Carlyâs sure been a busy little beaver, hasnât she? I can see Iâm going to have to talk with her.â
âNow, donât be mad, sweetheart. Sheâs just excited for you.â He sniffed the air. âIs that coffee I smell?â
âIt is. And some truly divine cookies to go with it.â She opened the door wider and stepped back. âCome join us.â
âUs? Whoâs us?â He stepped over the threshold, five feet nine inches of raw energy that stopped dead when he saw Ellen sitting at the table. âOh, hell. Itâs you.â He thrust a weathered hand through his curly gray hair and glowered. âI should have known. Donât you have a home?â
Ellen took a dainty sip of her coffee and gave him a bland look. âI could ask the same of you, Mr. Brody.â
âMack,â he snarled. âHow many times do I have to tell you to call me Mack ? Is that so fricking hard to remember?â He hooked his thumbs in the back pockets of his Leviâs and muttered, âHearing myself called Mr. Brody makes me feel like a goddamn old man.â
She looked him up and down and raised perfectly groomed eyebrows.
âYeah, so, big deal,â he growled. âIâm no spring chicken.â He crossed to the table where he pulled out a chair, spun it around, and straddled it. Stacking his sinewy arms upon the top rail, he propped his chin atop them and returned her perusal. âBut then
Learning to Kill: Stories