Free Women on the Edge of a Nervous Breakthrough by Isabel Sharpe Page B

since they were healthier.
      She'd spent the afternoon tending her pumpkins. She loved spending time with them. Down close to the soil she could nurture them, urge them to grow and thrive. No accident plant stores were called nurseries; tending plants was very much like tending babies. Sarah even spent sleepless nights the years disease or vermin struck, though that didn't seem to be happening this year. On the contrary, each globe was growing steadily, gaining strength and majesty.
      Working among the vines was peaceful, calming. She could be herself out there in the lot next door, didn't have to make herself pleasant to women like Joan, or hold herself tall and make sure she appeared graceful and gracious. Didn't have to worry her time would be interrupted by Ben or Amber, though of course Sarah was glad to provide them whatever they needed.
      She had no serious troubles in her life, but if she did, she imagined that digging and fertilizing and turning the pumpkins would be perfect activities to accompany mulling and ruminating and, fi nally, decision making.
      Of course, Vivian could turn into a problem. But Sarah didn't expect her to show up at the Social Club meeting tomorrow. Sarah had decided that Vivian was just provoking her, for whatever reason she felt she had to. Someone like Vivian would have no interest in planning Kettle's an nual Halloween party or the pumpkin sale. She wouldn't show up.
      The tired, even tread of Ben's feet sounded coming up the stairs, muted from his slippers, the sheepskin ones she bought him for Christmas from LLBean.com. He'd complained they were too warm, but when she'd offered to send them back, he refused, which had seemed ridiculous. Just because she spent a lot of time selecting them didn't mean he had to wear them if they weren't right. But she lost that argument. Or gave in, rather. Why fight over something so unimportant? She'd save her strength for when they fought over big issues. Except they didn't. They weren't really fi ghters, she and Ben.
      "News over, honey?"
      He nodded, sat on the bed, and began taking off his clothes. Slippers first, sliding one foot against the opposite ankle—she didn't even need to be able to see to know. Socks next, they went straight into the hamper, thrown in an awkward motion with his left hand. Pants unbuckled and unzipped; he stood to step out of them. Then he draped the pants on the chair next to her dresser, no matter how many times she asked him nicely to put them in the hamper or hang them on a hook in his closet.
      Another battle not worth fi ghting.
      "Anything interesting going on in the world?" She sent a warm and caring smile to his back.
      "Not really."
      Seiko watch off first, clattering onto his nightstand, then sweater, pulled up from the back over his head, then loosened off each arm. That got tossed on her chair, too, while she reminded herself it didn't matter and pretended to read her article. Shirt unbuttoned, undershirt off, those went into the hamper, and when he missed with his underpants, he didn't bother to go pick them up as she knew he wouldn't.
      Such a complicated man, Ben was. Fascinating, really, she found him just fascinating, and so different from herself. Very intense and moody, and the last few years he'd been—
      Well, no point thinking about that.
      "Are you going to read tonight?"
      He made full eye contact with her. "No."
      Sarah put the magazine aside then, even though she was in the middle of an article about how Armani designed the interior of his yacht. She turned down Ben's side of the covers to welcome him into bed. Wasn't it amazing how after so many years, they knew what each other wanted, without having to say anything? Full eye contact meant Ben wanted sex.
      She took off her own nightgown and her panties, folded them, and put them up by the headboard where they wouldn't get in the way. Ben used to love undressing her, but she supposed her body