Jaded by Varina Denman Read Free Book Online

the counter with a knuckle. “By the way, Coach, the jerseys came in, but I think they’re wrong again.” He reached for the door. “The shipment’s in the library. Let’s take a look before I notify the Booster Club. They’re likely to throw a hissy fit.”
    â€œCan hardly blame them.” JohnScott followed the principal but winked at me, wordlessly conveying, We’ll talk later, little cousin . Then he called over his shoulder, “Welcome to Trapp High School, Dodd.”
    â€œThank you.” The preacher studied the door as it closed behind JohnScott, then looked at me curiously. “Miss Turner, is it?”
    Nobody called me Miss Turner except the kindergartners down at the elementary school, but I didn’t bother explaining. It didn’t feel right for him to call me Ruthie anyway. Too familiar. I held a document toward him. “Here’s the form to sign up for medical, dental, and vision.”
    He took the paper from me, not looking at it. “Does the district offer life-insurance coverage?” His eyes twinkled.
    I lifted another paper. “Life insurance and accidental death.”
    He studied the page before lifting his gaze. “Those two always seem backward.” He chuckled. “If life insurance pays when you die, shouldn’t it be called death insurance?”
    I’d heard that one before.
    â€œAnd accidental death? That’s death insurance for when I accidentally die. As though life insurance only pays if I die on purpose, which of course, is the one time it wouldn’t pay.” He narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense, really.”
    With a sinking feeling, I realized he was still strangely conversational. What a twist. After thirteen years of despising the way church people ignored me, I now wished one of them would. I thrust another paper at him. “Here’s the form for cancer coverage.”
    â€œAh, cancer.” His voice suddenly returned to business, but he didn’t take the paper.
    Oh great. His dad probably died from cancer. That would explain the insurance jokes. I shuffled the form to the bottom of the pile. “And here’s a form to have your paycheck automatically deposited into your checking account, but only if you bank here in town.”
    He nodded.
    â€œHave you opened an account downtown?” I felt obliged to draw him out of his shadowy mood even if I didn’t like him. “You’ll actually get your money a day earlier that way.”
    â€œI’ll add it to the top of my to-do list. Right along with getting extra keys made and purchasing adequate window coverings.”
    I smiled to myself when I thought about the current window coverings in the parsonage. Apparently Old Man Dunbar and his wife saw no reason to bother with privacy in their living areas. Maybe they thought it gave their house a welcoming glow, but anytime I walked past at nighttime, I would see them in there, leaning back in matching recliners or hobbling around in bathrobes. Once I even saw them kissing, which was not as titillating as it sounds, since they were already in their eighties.
    â€œWindow coverings?” I said. “Walmart over in Lubbock carries vinyl miniblinds for five bucks a pop.”
    â€œI like that price tag.” He perched on the corner of my desk I habitually kept cleared for JohnScott. “In the meantime, we’re using Grady’s old Buzz Lightyear sheets from his preschool days. To think Mom almost threw them out before the move.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “That would only take care of two windows. Tell the truth. Whose sheets are covering the others?”
    He leaned his head back. “All right, I confess. My Ninja Turtle sheets might be on the kitchen windows.”
    â€œAll right, then.”
    He crossed his arms and peered down at me, but said nothing. Then he briefly inspected the items on my desk before glancing at the computer screen,