Wanted: Wife by Gwen Jones

Author:Gwen Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Contemporary Women, Contemporary, General, Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Fiction
ISBN: 9780062268044
Publisher: Avon Impulse
Published: 2013-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

BY THE END of the afternoon we managed to clear the living room, kitchen, and a bit of the second bedroom (which seemed to serve as dump for most of Iron Bog) of the surfeit of trash, recyclables, dead appliances and furniture left in the house. As for what I’d keep, the dining set in the kitchen seemed fine, if not crusted with years of neglect, much like the grease-coated knotty pine and wallpaper that covered most of the walls. Andy assured me the set was solid maple and nothing Murphy’s Oil Soap and a good polishing wouldn’t cure. Much to my absolute delight the stove fired right up, but the bottled gas that fueled it ran out as soon as it proved its worth. Andy’d replace it on the next run into town. Of course, being adverse to E. coli, I’d have to scrub free the ossified pasta, indefinable vegetables and meats, and the bubbled remains of several failed attempts at baking before I could use it.

At least the water worked, both hot and cold, though the sink itself was barely recognizable as stainless steel with all the food gunk, grease, bugs, and bottles crowded together with POISON! XXX marked on them. Hands gloved, I cautiously pinched them out, letting Andy haul them off to wherever one disposed of chemicals that were not only toxic but HIGHLY COMBUSTIBLE! or carried the warning, USE ONLY WITH PROPER VENTING! or the graphic of a hand being eaten away by acid. Needless to say, I didn’t argue the advice, DO NOT DRINK!

The water also worked in the sink in the half-bathroom off to the side. The toilet, though, was clogged with something that appeared . . . furry. Ever since the raccoon’s burial, Bucky had attached himself to my hip, and after spying whatever occupied the toilet bowl, he went into a barking frenzy. I quickly dropped the lid, but he kept on barking.

“It’s okay, boy,” I said, tentatively petting his head, “Andy will get rid of it—okay? Now, quiet. Quiet, boy . . .” I scratched him behind the ear and he whined, giving me that toothy doggie-smile before he licked his chops and sat, pressing against my leg. It surprised me how soft his fur really was, and how happy my petting seemed to make him. Maybe he really liked me. Or maybe he was just hoping I’d fry another omelet for him to steal. I turned back to the washer and dryer, Bucky rising to follow.

The kitchen cabinets I left for last, where I was rewarded with some decidedly new-looking crockery. After I waded through a five year supply of tea, coffee, and condiments, I found some rather dusty Emile Henry plates, bowls, and cups, a simple, everyday pattern in a perky yellow shade. Surprisingly, not a single piece was cracked, chipped, or stained, which amazed me since mostly everything else showed at least a modicum of hard use. There were place settings for eight and upon further inspection I even found serving pieces, including a lovely soup tureen which Andy caught me examining.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.