Rhubarb by M. H. van Keuren Read Free Book Online Page B

mean jobs and growth. But property
rights and the environment should be protected, too. The in-depth analysis of
the hearing melted into gibberish as Cheryl slipped in and out of his
peripheral vision. Martin forced the words back into English as she filled a
Plexiglas breadbox near the toaster, so close he could have touched her. Then
she was at his table. If he’d been taking a sip, coffee might have snorted out
his nose.
    “Hi,” said Cheryl. Martin wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Stewart says I was rude to you last night, and that I should thank you
properly for your assistance.”
    “Oh. You don’t…not…”
    “No. He’s right. Would you like to come over for dinner some
evening?”
    “Um…sure…that sounds great…”
    “Are you going to be in town tonight?” she asked.
    “Yes” would be a lie. He’d have to skip his afternoon
appointments, and that would bump the rest of the week. FastNCo. would get back
on his case for spending consecutive nights in Brixton. He didn’t want Rick
flying out here to evaluate his routing plans, as he’d hinted at during his
last phone call. Plus, sounding desperate—bad.
    “I doubt I can do it tonight. Let me look at my schedule. You
going to be at the store later?” She nodded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
    Martin felt like jogging, or having another waffle, or
waffle jogging, an amazing new sport sweeping the globe. If the utilities
commission put him in charge, he could have built that transmission line,
protecting all the species and becoming a hero to the landowners. Governor
declares statewide Martin Wells Initiative. Details at ten.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    Martin swaggered into Herbert’s Corner with a date, a time,
and an actual solid, real plan to share a meal with Cheryl. Not Cheryl of the
Brixton Inn. Not Cheryl, cashier at the Brixton Co-op. But Cheryl, host for
dinner Thursday evening next. He needed to go to City Vineyard down in Billings
and pick up a really nice bottle of wine. Nothing too pretentious, or with too
weird a name. Nothing in a box. It should have a real cork.
    “Lorie and I were wondering if you’d show your face around
here today,” Eileen said as Martin took a stool at the counter. She called to
Lorie, the other waitress, who unceremoniously dropped a couple of burger
baskets in front of a pair of truckers and scurried over.
    “Okay, boy, you need to tell Lorie and Eileen absolutely
everything,” said Lorie, matching Eileen’s mile-wide grin.
    “Everything,” Eileen agreed.
    “What? Oh my god. Don’t people in this town have anything
better to do?” asked Martin.
    “Not right now,” said Lorie, loud enough for all the other
diners to hear. “Milton told us that Laura saw you propose last night on
Cheryl’s doorstep.”
    “I most certainly did not propose,” said Martin.
    “You met Stewart, though?” asked Lorie.
    “We spoke briefly about her car.”
    “And then you popped the question?” asked Eileen.
    “What? No. Can I get a country omelet, hash browns, and
sourdough toast?”
    “But she turned you down,” said Eileen.
    “And a coffee,” Martin said.
    “And now you’re going to dinner at her house?” asked Lorie.
    “How do you—? Forget it. I don’t want to know,” said Martin.
It could have been Brenda at the front desk of the motel, or anyone at the
store.
    “It’s like that movie,” squealed Lorie. “She’s Reese
Witherspoon, and you’re that boy with the sideburns and back muscles.” Eileen
agreed enthusiastically.
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Martin.
    “Oh, yes, you do,” said Lorie. “Everyone’s known for years
that you’ve had your eye on her.”
    “We’ve all been dyin’ to see what you’d do,” said Eileen.
    “Oh, have you? Look, it’s a thank-you dinner. She didn’t
even want to do it. Her stepfather suggested it.”
    Lorie and Eileen shared a look, then rolled their eyes back
to Martin. “Well, that explains it,” said