Fall from Grace by Libby Sternberg

Author:Libby Sternberg [Sternberg, Libby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bancroft Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

He made it home the next morning, one of the few people on barely cleared roads. The trip ended up taking him twice as long as normal. He had to navigate around still-covered routes, backtracked, found alternate paths. By the time he made it to his little room, his head ached, especially his eyes. He’d squinted against the glare of sun on snow the whole way, having neglected to take sunglasses.

His consolation, one he’d mulled over the slow journey home, was a realization that struck him at breakfast that morning. He’d been in a hotel. Anonymous. Alone. Several good-looking single women had been at the bar the evening before. And he’d not been tempted. Thank God.

His room was comfortable—electricity was back on in the area—but Terry was blowing up his phone with emergency calls, so he quickly changed clothes and headed out to the first of many repair jobs that day.

He’d had time to rethink his original email to Ruth, composed when he’d been distraught. He decided that she might find such heartache disturbing or even threatening—no matter how justified it was. So he’d pared it back to a mere few sentences expressing his deep regret at not seeing Becca and his hope that they could find another time soon. He asked her to get back to him ASAP because he’d have to work out his schedule with his boss. He’d sent it off before leaving the hotel that morning.

His budget was so tight that he’d have to scrimp for weeks to make up for that night in a hotel. But he’d eat ramen noodles for a month rather than cut one penny from what he sent Ruth. He was making that history Lisa talked about, showing his wife he was dedicated to doing right by her, establishing a new “key” in her ear.

Despite his disappointment about the visit and his worry about the cost of the hotel, his heart was light as he went about his day’s work. First, people he helped were so appreciative of his efforts, he came away with a great sense of value. He also came home with some baked goods—cookies and brownies and even some biscuits.

But, second, the day was amazingly beautiful, with a sky streaked by wispy clouds as if a painter had stroked a nearly dry brush across the field of blue. The air was fresh and clean, and people he met on the street were cheerful, as if happy to have survived the storm, part of a large party Mother Nature had thrown.

When he settled in to his room that night, he was reasonably content. He made himself a meal of biscuits and canned pasta. He ate a brownie for dessert, downing it all with a glass of wine from a bottle a grateful renter had given him at Christmas.

He fired up his laptop with the intention of catching up on news, but was pleased to see two emails of interest waiting for him. He opened the earliest one first, from Lisa.

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