Free Slice by William Patterson Page B

it.”
    â€œAnything to be a good neighbor,” he told her.
    In the direct sunlight, Manning seemed even more handsome. His dark eyes were flecked with gold. Jessie didn’t know what it was, but she found herself entranced by this man, and she felt as if she could stand there all day looking into his eyes.
    â€œI understand you’re a writer,” Manning was saying.
    â€œYes,” Jessie said, although her voice seemed a world away. “I . . . am.”
    He smiled. “Perhaps we can share trade secrets sometime.”
    Jessie felt her whole body blush.
    But then Inga was at her side, breaking the spell.
    â€œExcuse me, Mr. Manning,” the nanny was saying, “but I wanted to tell you I’m a third of the way through The Sound of a Scream and you have me absolutely hooked.”
    Jessie noticed the small smile that had been playing with Manning’s lips suddenly broaden across his face. “Well, thank you very much,” he said, turning his attention away from Jessie and toward Inga. “It’s especially rewarding to have such a pretty fan.”
    â€œThis is Abby’s nanny, Inga,” Jessie said, as introduction. She noticed Inga was blushing a bit.
    â€œAnd such an exquisite accent,” the author was saying, taking Inga’s hand in his and kissing it. He hadn’t done that to Jessie. “I’d say it’s Bayerisch, if I hear correctly.”
    Jessie was surprised. She thought Inga barely had an accent at all. She spoke perfect English to Jessie’s ears.
    It was Inga’s turn to smile broadly. “Yes, indeed it is. I am impressed. I was born in the south of Germany. You must have traveled quite a bit in my country.”
    â€œI have indeed.”
    Suddenly Manning began speaking in thick, guttural German to Inga’s obvious delight. It wasn’t often she got to converse with someone in her native tongue.
    Jessie stood by awkwardly as the two carried on in a lively conversation completely oblivious to her. It was as if neither even remembered she was standing there. She felt oddly left out—even jealous.
    She told herself she was being ridiculous.
    â€œHelp yourself to some punch,” Jessie whispered, leaning in toward Manning, who barely acknowledged her comment. He was too busy speaking fluent German, telling Inga something about his book, since the phrase “sound of a scream” kept popping out from the indistinguishable foreign words. Jessie gave them both a little smile and slunk away.
    Of course John Manning would pay greater attention to Inga than to Jessie. Inga was nineteen years old, shapely and sexy, with the biggest, brightest blue eyes Jessie had ever seen. She had some experience with men preferring other women to her. Why should she have been surprised by Manning’s sudden diversion of interest? Moreover, why should she be bothered by it?
    But she was. She couldn’t deny that what had just happened did bother her.
    Once again, she scolded herself for being ridiculous.
    â€œMommy.”
    Abby was tugging on her hand.
    Jessie looked down at her daughter. “What is it, sweetie?”
    â€œThose kids are back on the swings and won’t let me swing again.”
    â€œCome on, baby,” she said, taking Abby’s hand. “Let’s go over and talk with them.”
    â€œNo!” shouted Piper, when Jessie asked her to give Abby a turn, as she swung higher and higher into the sky.
    â€œNo!” echoed her brother Ashton, desperately trying to keep up with her.
    â€œWell, they are Abby’s swings, after all,” Jessie said.
    â€œBut we’re your guests,” Piper shrieked, as she whizzed past Jessie and Abby, flying higher with each rotation. “My mother says guests come first.”
    â€œThat’s right,” came a voice behind Jessie.
    It was Heather. She had wandered over to the swing set, attracted by her children’s voices.
    â€œBut we must