2 On the Nickel by Maggie Toussaint

Author:Maggie Toussaint [Toussaint, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Published: 2012-10-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Evan isn’t here today,” the perky blonde said. I leaned forward to read her Mountaintop Gym name tag. Like the other the well-sculpted trainers at the gym, twenty-something Gen could easily drop to the floor and riff fifty pushups without breaking a sweat or a nail. She glowed with health and brimmed with good cheer.

“He’s not?” I peered into the gym. Saturday midmorning usually was the time people like me showed up. The fitness junkies cruised through the place before eight. Usually. Today the median age appeared to be much younger, and fitter than me.

Not one of them was sweating profusely or complaining. Drat.

“The poor guy.” Gen’s radiant smile dimmed a bit. “Death in the family.”

I frowned. “I heard, but Evan didn’t mention rescheduling when I saw him at dinner last night. Why didn’t someone from the gym notify me? I wasted a trip up here.”

Gen jabbed both thumbs toward her perky chest. “Because I’m taking Evan’s client list today. Let’s get started.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t keen on having a kid like Gen tell me what to do. That’s why Evan Hodges was my personal trainer.

With my sloppy gray sweats and my ratty workout shirt, I looked like a beached whale standing next to sleek, dolphin-like Gen. I wasn’t tanned. I wasn’t buff. And I certainly wasn’t fit. Although I was trying.

I’m sure Gen had a different definition than Evan of trying. Machines whirred, rock music blasted, and I dithered. I could go home and bypass certain humiliation. Or I could tough it out. I should have developed some level of fitness by now.

I should have called the gym first. Funny how clear that was now. But I’d been focused on talking to Evan about his mother, hoping he knew the underlying cause of the feud. I’d been focused on my family, not his. At least my mother was still alive.

Gen bounced over to the tall metal file cabinet. There was a spring to her step that came from being new to adulthood. I told myself I wasn’t envious of her youthful vitality. I didn’t want to reclaim my childhood. That’s not why I worked out. I worked out so that I could be strong and flexible.

The trainer pulled my chart and studied it briefly. I had the sick feeling she was laughing to herself over my lack of progress. “Do you need any help warming up?” she asked as a cute guy strolled in.

“I can manage,” I said.

Gen dropped me like a steaming sauna towel and bounced back to the front desk. I went through my stretching routine, then hit the treadmill for half an hour. I could have walked a couple of hours on that thing if it had gotten me out of my fitness appointment with Gen.

I’d forgotten my headphones again, and there wasn’t much point in watching TV without them. Instead, I listened to the whir of well-oiled machines and the sounds of people using them. I tried reading the lips of the television actors, but no one said, “I love you” or “Hi, Mom.

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