Free Run Away Baby by Holly Tierney-Bedord

half-crossed.
    “Sounds fun,” Danna-Dee said, unconvincingly.
    “I’ll tell you what,” Randall said, coming back to life. He shoved his keys in his pocket and focused on Abby. “If you want to take some classes like that, Sugartitties,” his voice was big and loud; he was in show mode, “you go for it. Sign right up. But I’m not going camping anywhere other than a five-star hotel.”
    “Maybe I will,” she said to Randall. She said it smiling and sweet, and she hoped to him it sounded like Maybe I won’t.
    “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Danna-Dee said. She had reached the point of slurring her words.
    “You want to get some fishing in, or should we start heading back?” Clark asked Randall.
    “I can’t go back to shore before I’ve even gotten my worm wet,” Randall said. Clark and Danna-Dee guffawed like this was really witty, like they hadn’t heard him say it twenty other times.
    “If they’re going to fish, we should do facials,” Danna-Dee said.
    “Sure,” said Abby. “Why not.” She’d lived this day dozens and dozens of times.
    Danna-Dee filled the blender with avocadoes and olive oil, steel-cut oats and two eggs. She spread two big towels out on the reclined seats. Then she sliced up a cucumber. Most of it went in the blender, four slices were set aside. She hit the pulse button and whipped it all into a pale green concoction. She and Abby settled back, slathered the potion over their faces, topping it all off with the cucumber slices over their eyes. A moment later Danna-Dee was snoring. To her, this was heaven. To Abby, not so much.

Chapter 17
     
     
    “Those classes you were telling me about,” Abby whispered hurriedly to Charlie, “where do you teach them?”
    It was a week and a half after the boat ride with the Lorbmeers, and the first time Abby had gotten to speak to Charlie without Clark Lorbmeer or some other person from her office happening to be nearby. She suspected she’d better jump on this opportunity before Randall changed his mind.
    Charlie shifted his mailbag and wiped at his forehead. “Classes?”
    “Shhh!” she hissed. “Yeah, classes. Survival classes. Please, keep it down.” She kept glancing at Clark’s door. He was in his office meeting with a client. They’d be done any moment.
    “Oh. Okay. I can whisper. The classes I teach are more like private lessons. One on one.”
    “One on one?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Oh.” She felt herself turning red.
    “Can you handle that?”
    “Well, sure. If they seem legit. Like, will I have homework and stuff? Will I be graded?”
    “No, not at all.”
    “Well, I need to be.”
    “What do you mean you need to be?”
    “I don’t know how to put this.” She glanced at Clark’s closed door again. “I’m just going to say it. My husband is going to need to see some kind of evidence that I’m taking a class. A real class.”
    “Okaaaay.”
    “I can’t really talk about this now. Clark Lorbmeer, one of the lawyers here, is really good friends with my husband. I can’t have it getting back to him that the classes I want to take are with you, our mailman.”
    “Okay,” said Charlie. “I think I’m starting to understand.” Abby tried to read the expression on his face. Bemusement, perhaps. A slight cast of This girl is a basket case .
    “Could we meet at the college? Do you think we can meet in some classroom there? I mean, do they let people walk right in without checking their IDs?” she asked.
    “Maybe,” he said.
    “Well, if they do, I’d like to take a class there with you.”
    “I can’t teach you to start a fire or build a shelter in a classroom. Why don’t you meet me at the south side entrance by the bike racks at four o’clock tomorrow? I’ll be done with work by then. Here’s my number if you can’t make it.” He took one of Clark Lorbmeer’s business cards from the leather tray in front of Abby and wrote his number on the back of it.
    “South entrance. Which entrance