The Marriage List by Jean Joachim Read Free Book Online Page A

deep voice
of Grey Andrews.
    "Good morning to you, too," Carrie's sleepy
voice returned.
    "Dinner Saturday?"
    "Lovely." She stretched her arm above her
head.
    "Good. Rest up. I expect you to be able to
stay awake for dessert."
    "Maybe we should start with dessert first,"
she teased.
    "Don't have to twist my arm," he
snickered.
    "Hmmm," she muttered, closing her eyes and
picturing him naked.
    "See you Saturday," he said and rang off.
     
    ****
     
    She worked every night until nine thirty. By
Thursday Carrie was tapped out.
    "I'm leaving early tomorrow," she told
Dennis.
    "Early? Who said?"
    "I said. I'm exhausted, Dennis. Just one
afternoon, geez."
    "Okay, okay. You can leave at one tomorrow,
but be here on Saturday."
    "Saturday, again? No can do. I have a date.
But I'll work at home on Sunday for a couple of hours."
    "It's that damn new business stuff. If you
were only working on Country Lane…but you're not. Your work is
still good, Carrie. Okay, deal. Can't afford to have you get sick
on me."
    Carrie walked out of his office and down the
hall, where she bumped into Rosie.
    "How you doin'?" Rosie asked her, a look of
concern on her face.
    "Exhausted."
    "You look it. Haven't seen you in weeks. Any
chance you can take a few minutes for lunch today?"
    "Lunch? I'm leaving early tomorrow, so taking
lunch today wouldn't go over well. But I have to eat."
    "I brought a sandwich. Come hide in my office
and we'll eat," Rosie offered.
    Carrie agreed, returned to her office and
pulled up Country Lane project number 112 on her computer.
     
    ****
     
    At one o'clock on Friday she packed up her
briefcase to work at home on Sunday. A piece of paper slipped out
of her agenda book and fell on the floor, right under her feet. She
picked it up. It read it: "Mom's Beef Bourguinon Short Cut
Recipe."
    She tucked the recipe into her pocket and
walked out. It was overcast with rain threatening, a chilly late
September day in New York. She wrapped her raincoat around herself
and walked to the subway.
    The wind whipped down west 78 th Street, blowing Carrie's hair in front of her face as she
approached the brownstone that housed her apartment. Loaded down
with groceries, Carrie could barely make it up the three flights to
apartment. She dropped everything inside her front door and ran to
shut the windows as the apartment was chilly. She put on music,
unpacked the groceries and pulled the paper with the recipe on it
out of her pocket.
    "Okay, Mom, here I go," she said to herself
as her favorite Michael Bublé song, "Haven't Met You Yet" came
on.
    The pre-heating oven warmed the whole
apartment. Carrie undressed down to a comfortable shift and began
to cook, sing and dance to the music. Cooking was fun for her,
especially with her mother before the family got fractured with her
parent becoming obsessed with making tons of money and working
twenty-four seven.
    Her mother and father had started a catering
business together when they were both unemployed and Carrie was
only ten. The business had taken off because her parents worked
night and day to make it a success. Carrie was raised mainly by her
grandmother as her parents were always cooking, supervising events
and selling their services, especially during holidays. The more
successful they became, the more driven they became, terrified of
losing all they had acquired. At first, Carrie missed them terribly
but soon got used to being alone. She never quite adjusted to being
on her own during holidays and those days remained difficult for
her even now.
    Her one-bedroom apartment had a tiny
fireplace in the living room and a balcony with French doors. The
small kitchen, tucked between the living room and bedroom was
well-equipped. She laid out the meat, chopped mushrooms, cooked the
bacon and opened wine, pouring a generous glass for herself.
    At five o'clock she put the dish in the oven
and sat down with her glass of wine to put her feet up. She was
already feeling better. Then she realized Grey was