Free Meeting at Midnight by Eileen Wilks Page B

must have answered, because she left the room. God only knows what I said. I don’t know how long I sat staring at the wall and seeing nothing, either.
    Eventually sheer physical discomfort roused me. My shoulder this time. I mushed some pillows around to create more support for it, leaned back and waited for the fire to die down.
    The blasted woman had a bad habit of saying outrageous things, then wandering off, leaving me no one to argue with but myself. That would stop, I promised myself. If she was going to drop bombshells, she could damned well hang around and deal with the debris.
    But Seely wasn’t in the habit of hanging around.
    Never mind. People could change, right? She was big on changing walls and furniture. She could just get used to the idea of changing a couple of habits, too.
    It was a helluva thing, but somewhere between Chinesered walls and that irritating pat on my shoulder, my gut had made a decision without consulting the rest of me. For the next few days, I’d be such a good patient my family would worry about me.
    Because I had to get well and fire Seely. Soon. I was going to have that woman out of my employ—and in my bed.

Six
    T he next day, Manny came over for lunch. He dropped off the paint we’d chosen and some painting equipment, then helped Seely move the furniture out of the living room.
    I can’t explain how I came to agree to this. Slippery, that’s what she is. She started out by acting as if I’d already agreed. I recognized this trick, since Annie used to pull it. She’d get me to agree that music is important, mention that she wanted to spend the night with a friend, then pretend that meant I’d agreed to let her go to a concert in Denver with that friend.
    When I explained Annie’s teenage tricks to Seely, she looked thoughtful and said she really needed to meet my sister. The next thing I knew we were discussing paint colors.
    I did protest. She wasn’t being paid to paint my house, for God’s sake. And I couldn’t help her. She wouldn’t have let me, for one thing. I couldn’t pretend it would be unreasonable toforbid me to paint the living room, so I was bound by our agreement.
    But that did not make it reasonable for her to do it, either. I asked if she’d ever done any painting.
    â€œNot a lick,” she’d said cheerfully. “We’ll pull the couch into the middle of the room. You can lie there and supervise.”
    Sage green. That’s the color we ended up with.
    I sat on the couch with my bad leg stretched out, and scowled as Manny and Seely carried the last of the chairs into the dining room. Supervising didn’t suit me nearly as well as everyone seemed to think.
    â€œYou sure you don’t want me to help with the prep?” Manny was asking her as they rejoined me. “Or move the rest of the junk out?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in my direction.
    â€œI’m sure I can work around the couch.”
    â€œWasn’t talking about the couch.”
    Seely’s lips twitched.
    â€œManny thinks he’s a wit,” I mentioned. “You might not be able to tell, since his face muscles atrophied years ago. That’s the only expression he’s got.”
    Manny has an evil chuckle, like a machine gun misfiring. He employed it as he headed for the front door, advising Seely in between bursts not to let me give her a hard time. He paused in the arched entry. “Meant to tell you—that doctor called this morning.”
    â€œWhat doctor?”
    â€œThe one that put you back together in the E.R.”
    â€œOh,” Gwen said. “The idiot.”
    Manny fired another couple of bursts. “That’s the one. He seemed to think you’d hurt your shoulder a few days ago instead of when you drove off a mountain. Wanted me to confirm that.” He shook his head. “Weird guy.”
    â€œYeah.” I frowned as Seely walked Manny to the