How Do I Love Thee? Read Free Page B

I didn’t have to untangle a kid first, although that’s the sketch that appeared in the next episode of my
Daily Grimes
cartoon strip.
    Marty, on the other hand, had spent the morning on the beach, riding his palomino that he owned and stabled at an equestrian centre a few blocks away. That’s the way he explained it the first time anyway; that he’d been galloping past on his way back from the beach when I slid out from my car, causing his horse to shy at the sudden sight of me. Marty was thrown and he landed on the thick grass at my feet. It took him a whole month to confess that he’d really been riding up and down past me for an hour—and at every other opportunity for nearly three months—and it wasn’t until he faked his accident that I finally noticed him.
    ‘I don’t really remember how I met him,’ I told Symes, but I noticed my hands were sweaty, so I clutched a handful of dry sheet. ‘In the hall, I guess. He’s lived just across the hall from me for more than a year.’
    ‘And you went to the Snowy Mountains together …’
    Huh?
That caught me off guard. How did
he
know?
    ‘With twenty-seven couples from your building. I saw the group photos in your lobby. So that’s quite a close-knit community you must have for so many to go off on dirty weekends together?’
    ‘That was
not
a dirty weekend!’ I flushed hot, and only barely managed to stay calm, knowing I couldn’t take a seizure now. I had to defend myself—
and
Marty! ‘That was the annual general meeting, Detective; the first I’ve attended in more than a decade! You must understand,’ I sighed, swallowing my frustration with my fat tongue, and grateful that Death had dosed me enough to make talking easier. ‘Most of my neighbours are business professionals, barely enough time for their families, let alone holidays. So the building management committee, in their
wisdom
,’ I added with emphasis, ‘organises a bulk discount at a tourist resort each year so we can get significant discounts. Mixes pleasure with tax-deductible business, you might say. But who knew it would be the coldest autumn week in history until it was time to drive up to the ski lodge? If it hadn’t been for Marty’s offer to car-pool in his four-wheel drive, I’d have been in my late husband’s sports car. And that’s all there was to it.’
    All that I was prepared to confess to, that is.
    Now that I thought about that road trip, though, the taste of my first muffin came back to me—sweet with sultanas, dripping with melted butter and virtually the only bright spot in the whole weekend!
    Then I was there again, strapped into the front passenger seat of Marty’s stylish grey Landcruiser with my left ankle in plaster and my mouth full of muffin and diet coke.
    ‘You must admit it was funny,’ Marty said, trying to make light of his own accident—although how he could drive down such a steep icy road with a broken arm and still manage to joke was quite miraculous. ‘I’ve never hurt myself laughing before.’
    ‘Serve yourself right,’ I replied, trying to maintain what little was left of my dignity without splurting food all over my lap. I didn’t dare to ask how much of my naked butt he’d seen as I screamed, skiing backwards past him with my pants hugging my ankles. He’d seen far more than I cared to imagine a few minutes later when I’d struck a tree at the bottom and snapped my ankle so I couldn’t manage to pull up my trousers by myself.
    ‘How was I supposed to know there’s a right and wrong way to angle skis when stopping for a nature break? We were so far from the lodge and I was busting so bad, I didn’t even think.’
    He chewed on his lip, trying not to grin. ‘I’m sure it’s all over the internet by now, Emily, so you don’t need to fear any other beginners falling foul of the same danger.’
    ‘Oh, yes, that makes me feel a
lot
better. Thanks Marty.’
    ‘Don’t feel bad. It was my fault entirely. I offered to coach you