Page 42 of Just Friends

“It’s not practical to take a job there in Chicago.”

“Why? Your father?”

Among other things….

“Look, don’t give up on your dreams just because you’re nearly thirty and have made nothing of your life. There’splenty of time.”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Yes, plenty of time, but it’s time tostop screwing around, dear. Your father isn’t worth ruining your life over.”

“I’m happy with my life, friends, and job. If I wanted to work in fine dining, more options exist here now. And I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.”

“Oh honey, he had a stroke and is never going toimprove.”

Rebecca’s breath caught in her chest. “Listen,” she managed, “I can’t let Dad sit in his own filth.”

Ellen let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Have you consideredtransferring him to a better facility? Perhaps, here somewhere…. If it means you’d come home.”

The room whirled around, and if she hadn’t been sitting, the statement would have knocked her flat on her butt. It had been four years, and her mother had never once suggested to bring Stanley to Chicago. She should jump at this chance to at least try. But did she want to leave White Oak? “Well, I’m not sure how that would work.”

“You could ask them at the place he’s in now,” Ellen replied. “Well, darling, I must go. It’s time to eat with Roger’s children and grandchildren.” She sighed indicating that she was also disappointed about not having grandchildren yet. Rebecca hung up the phone with the realization that no matter what, she would let someone down.

Fourteen

Rebecca dug the Chinese foodmenu out of the drawer and studied it. Choices for dinner wereleft-over soup or order the only thing in town open on Thanksgiving. Withthe take-out, she could have foodpicked up and be home in her pajamas in front of the television within fifteen minutes. Then, it was time forChristmas movies. The phone rang, and it was the man she hadn’t heard from since they’d repeatedly made-up Sunday night and into the wee hours Monday morning. Tapping the ignore button she started to dial the restaurant when a knock came.

“I know you’re in there,” Weasel called.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she opened thedoor. “I’m trying to order take-out.”

“Good, then I’m not too late.” Weasel studied her for a beat. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. You startled me.”

He brushed past her into the apartment. “Get dressed. We’re going to Thanksgiving dinner.”

Rebecca dropped her head against the door. “I have plans.”

Weasels eyed her. “Pajamas and take-out?” He slippedan arm around her waist and pressed her to him.

“And Christmas movies.” Rebecca rested against his chest without looking up.

Weasel groaned. “There’s plenty of time for that. I don’t want you to be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Aren’t you working?”

“Just finished, and I’m off for a full forty-eight hours. So, pack an overnight bag and come stay.” He kissed the top of her head. “Please,” he whispered,hands running overher back. “I have wine, a fireplace with a nice fire, and a shower with great water pressure.”

Rebecca laughed. “You make quite an argument.”

“I know my audience.” Rebecca smiled and slid from his embrace. “Hey,” Weasel called, “bring your battery-operated friend.”

Rebecca shook her head. “No,” she called back. He still was as interested in getting her into bed as he had at first. That must be a new record for Weasel.

Weasel leaned against the doorframe smiling. “One of these days you’ll take me up on that.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” She added her shampoo and soap to her duffle bag, tired of smelling like a man every time she showered at his place. It smelled good on him, not so much on her.

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