Free Hanging Hannah by Evan Marshall Page B

Whipped Cream. That would be more convenient for you, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œYes—it would,” she said, surprised, “but I really don’t mind—”
    â€œNo, let’s meet there. What time is good for you? It’s four-thirty now. Shall we say five?”
    â€œYes, that will be fine. I’ll see you there.”
    Bewildered, she hung up and then called home.
    â€œFlorence, I have to do something on my way home from work, so I’ll be about an hour late. Is that all right?”
    â€œYes, missus, not a problem at all,” Florence replied. “But, missus, I don’t know what to do with this crazy cat!”
    â€œWinky? What is she doing?”
    â€œWhat is she doing! She is still running around this house like a ball in a pinball machine, that’s what! And when I go near her to pick her up and pet her, she goes even crazier! I think you really should take her to the veterinarian.”
    â€œAll right.” Jane heaved a great sigh. A visit to the veterinarian was the last thing she needed right now. But she did love Winky, who was, after all, a member of their small family, and something was definitely wrong with her. “Florence, let’s watch her for one more day. If she’s still bouncing around tomorrow, I’ll make an appointment at the vet.”
    â€œOkay, missus, you’re the boss,” Florence said, but it was clear from the tone of her voice that she disapproved. “We’ll see you about six, six-thirty, then?”
    â€œYes. How’s Nick? Doing his homework?”
    â€œYes, he is right here at the kitchen table. For language arts he must write an ad, and I helped him decide what it will be for.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œ ‘Trinidad!’ ” Florence recited. “ ’Treasure of the blue Caribbean!’ ”
    Jane heard Nick giggle in the background. “That’s very good, Florence. I especially like the alliteration.”
    â€œExactly!”
    â€œJust make sure he writes it, okay?”
    â€œGot it, missus,” Florence said cheerfully, and hung up.
    Â 
    Twenty minutes later, Jane was at her table at Whipped Cream. The shop was always quiet at the end of the workday, and since George was always gone by four, Ginny poured them both big mugs of coffee and sat down with Jane.
    â€œGinny, you don’t look so hot today,” Jane said. “Long day?”
    â€œThanks a lot,” Ginny said.
    â€œGinny!” Jane chided her. “You know what I mean. Is something bothering you?”
    Ginny lowered her gaze. “Actually, I’ve been crying off and on all day.”
    â€œAbout that girl?”
    â€œNo, though I am sad and creeped out about that. It’s Rob. Yesterday we drove to a craft show in Flemington, and on the way back we had a heart-to-heart.”
    â€œAh. Whose idea was that?”
    â€œMine, of course.”
    â€œAnd what came out of his heart that upset you?”
    â€œHe doesn’t want to get married, doesn’t see the point.” Ginny’s eyes welled with tears.
    â€œDoesn’t see the point! How about love, children . . .”
    â€œThat’s just it. He doesn’t want children. So if we’re not going to have children, and we know we love each other, why get married?”
    â€œSays Rob?”
    â€œSays Rob.”
    â€œBut you do want children, Ginny. And—forgive me—but do you love him?”
    Ginny was quiet for a long time. Then, “I don’t know, Jane,” she said, meeting Jane’s gaze. “I don’t know.”
    â€œSweetie, if you don’t know, something’s wrong.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Ginny said, gaze lowered. A tear rolled down her cheek and plopped into her coffee. “Ick.” She laughed, wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I know, Jane, it’s what you’ve been telling me for some time now: Something’s gotta