Free The Postman Always Purls Twice by Anne Canadeo Page A

direction.
    She handed the bowl down to Matt, who responded with a pleased smile. Then jumped, nearly spilling the entire pile. “You moron! Throw to first ! How hard is that?”
    â€œHey . . . did I get you guys at a bad time?” Suzanne sounded concerned.
    â€œMatt’s just yelling at the TV. Red Sox are playing the Yankees. You know how that is.” Lucy was amused. She and Matt rarely argued. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time.
    â€œWait a second, if you have time to watch grown men run around a field chasing a little ball, I don’t understand why you can’t find the time to support a friend in a courageous adventure. And maybe even get to see Heath O’Hara running on the beach . . . with his shirt off,” she added for good measure.
    Lucy had returned to the kitchen to make her coffee.
    She had to laugh. “I thought we were going to meet all the movie stars Thursday night.”
    â€œJennifer never said Heath was in that scene. She only mentioned Trina. He might not even be there Thursday.” Suzanne had obviously given the question careful consideration.
    â€œHe might not be there tomorrow, either.” Lucy couldn’t resist playing devil’s advocate.
    â€œI’m willing to take my chances. I thought you’d be excited about the idea. I’m not going to force you.” Suzanne suddenly sounded distracted, as if she didn’t care one way or the other.
    Another technique her pal had learned in some sales seminar, Lucy suspected. But she allowed herself to fall for it anyway.
    â€œOkay, you got me. What time did you say again?”
    â€œI’ll pick you up at ten. You’ll have plenty of time to work in the afternoon. Since you don’t have a herd of children invading the house, asking for snacks, help with homework, and needing to be driven to the ends of the Earth and back,” she added dryly.
    Lucy ignored this obvious bid for sympathy. Suzanne groused at times, but totally adored her Mom routine, often moaning that her brood was growing up too quickly.
    â€œWhat’s your excuse for going over there again?”
    â€œThe addendum from the insurance company finally came and I have to drop it off for Lyle. A totally valid reason,” she insisted.
    Lucy guessed that this document could be emailed to the location manager in seconds. But she didn’t bother with further debate. Suzanne was right. Why put up such a fuss about meeting Heath O’Hara? She might not get another chance.
    â€œGuess I need to get up early. To wash my hair and work on a good outfit.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit, Lu. I knew you’d see reason if I worked on you long enough.” Suzanne sounded cheered by Lucy’s change in attitude.
    Lucy had returned to the TV room, where she found Matt slumped back on the sofa, looking forlorn. The Yankees were ahead three runs. Most of the popcorn had spilled and the dogs were happily grazing.
    â€œSee you tomorrow. And don’t chicken out on me. I’ll never forgive you,” Suzanne warned in a solemn tone.
    Lucy knew her friend was only kidding. Under her brassy, sassy persona, Suzanne was loving mush. Though her temper might flare, she was always the first to forgive and forget.
    â€œDon’t worry, I won’t chicken out. See you at ten.” Lucy flopped onto the other end of the sofa and put her phone aside.
    â€œWho are you not chickening out on?” Matt smiled at her curiously.
    Lucy shrugged. She was embarrassed to admit that she was joining Suzanne on this star-stalking scheme. They were almost as bad as the nutcase who’d left the roses for Jennifer Todd.
    â€œOh . . . nothing.” She quickly sensed he was not satisfied with that answer. “Hey, how did the Sox fall behind like that? That’s not good.”
    â€œError in the outfield. We’ll catch up . . . and you’re trying to change the