Records & Revenge: Mrs. Pomolo Investigates by Donna Muse

Author:Donna Muse [Muse, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tica House Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-06-20T22:00:00+00:00

8

“Why does it feel like George and Griff are about to wage a duel in my honor?” asked Geneva as she drove with Iris to Elise’s condo on her lunch break. “It feels like being back in middle school. I thought I was done being fought over by boys after I passed forty.”

“If you are a decent-looking woman, they will never let up,” said Iris with a disdainful sniff. “Men will be hitting on you until your death bed.”

They were driving through downtown not far from the diner where she had met Griff only two days before. The streets were mostly empty this morning, apart from the occasional food truck. Geneva gazed gloomily through the passenger’s side window, watching as a crow alighted on the asphalt and flew off carrying what appeared to be a discarded piece of jerky in its beak.

“It’s sweet, in a way, to see George getting so worked up over this,” Geneva said. “I don’t think I realized quite how invested he was in the relationship.”

“You’ve been officially dating for over a year now,” said Iris. “But really you’ve been together for a lot longer than that.”

Geneva hadn’t looked at it that way. Even when they first started dating, he had been more of a friend than a romantic partner, someone she could dependably count on to come over for dinner and a movie on Fridays. But more and more, he was displaying these flashes of passion and tenderness that reminded her their relationship wasn’t strictly platonic—which of course, it wasn’t.

“I suppose it’s flattering, in a way,” she said. “I just wish he wasn’t upset with me.”

“He’ll calm down in a day or two,” said Iris. “You did the right thing by turning down Griff’s proposal, and by immediately telling George, and by declining Griff’s further invitations.”

“I ought not to have gone out with him in the first place. I feel bad about that.”

They were pulling up in front of the condo now, a sprawling building with rows of peaked roofs and innumerable windows. Iris parked the car in front of a green trash can at the end of a long drive.

“You couldn’t have known it would lead to that,” she said. “When an old friend invites you out for breakfast, he doesn’t generally end by proposing marriage.”

They got out of the car, making their way slowly up the long drive to the house in the luxuriant heat of a late spring morning. Geneva was still limping, but the pain in her now wrapped ankle had largely subsided. She tapped at the front door. After nearly a minute of waiting, she tapped again. When that failed, Iris reached over and rang the doorbell.

“Gen,” said Iris after another two minutes of waiting, “I don’t think she’s home.”

An uncomfortable silence had fallen on the street. At first, Geneva couldn’t figure out why it unsettled her—until she noticed that the man living in the house opposite had paused in the act of mowing his lawn and stood idly against the push mower, watching them with scornful eyes.

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