A Good Yarn Page 0,100

"How much?" she cried.

"When would it be convenient for you to make a deposit?" the bank manager asked.

"I - I - " She didn't have it; she simply didn't have it. The only thing left to do was take a ring or two down to the pawnshop and see what she could get. "I'll bring some money this afternoon," she said meekly, feeling chastised.

The manager wasn't an ogre - he was only doing his job - but Bethanne was in a panic. She rushed upstairs to her jewelry box and sorted through what she had, which wasn't much.

Why, oh why, hadn't Grant given her a diamond bracelet instead of that stupid trip to Vegas? A bracelet she could cash in, but the trip had been a waste. Grant lost all the money they'd taken with them. That hadn't stopped him from returning, she noted bitterly. He'd married Tiffany in Vegas. Bethanne found herself hoping he'd lost big - in more ways than one.

This negative thinking wasn't good for her, but she felt desperate. Other than pawning her jewelry, she had very few options. Annie and Andrew had bank accounts and could probably lend her what she needed. She supposed that was better than asking Grant. But...she couldn't do either of those things. The bank could repossess the house before she'd approach her ex-husband for another dime. Asking family, especially her kids, or her friends was out of the question. She had her pride - and, apparently, very little else.

After much deliberation, Bethanne chose her wedding band - it wasn't doing her any good in a jewelry box - and a small sapphire ring, plus a pair of gold earrings. Surely that would give her enough to at least cover the check, the fees and the penalties.

She was sickened by how little money she got for all three, but it was enough to pay the necessary minimum at the bank. This had been a valuable lesson. She couldn't write checks for money she didn't have, no matter how soon she'd have it.

As she walked out of the bank, she nearly collided with her ex-husband in the parking lot. Her face instantly went beet-red, as though Grant could read on her forehead the reason for her visit.

"Bethanne," Grant said, taking her by the shoulders in order to steady her.

"Grant." She wasn't sure how to respond. "Hi...I was just - " She closed her mouth, refusing to embarrass herself. This wasn't his concern.

"You're looking good," he said, stepping back to admire her.

The new hairstyle had been an extravagance she regretted. Annie and Courtney had talked her into it. The stylist had done wonders with her hair and suggested she color it. When Bethanne explained she couldn't possibly afford that, the two girls had insisted they could do it.

They'd selected one of the more expensive brands - another ten bucks - in a deep brunette with auburn overtones. Considering that she'd put herself in the hands of teenagers, it'd turned out surprisingly well.

"Thanks," Bethanne said casually.

"What are you doing here?" Grant asked.

As if that was any of his business. "Making a deposit. What about you?" He didn't need to know the details, but at least she'd told him the truth.

"A withdrawal," he said, and he didn't sound too happy about it. "Switching money from savings to checking."

"For little ol' me?" she asked in her most saccharine drawl.

"Actually, no," he said, frowning.

"Could it be that your new wife is straining your finances?" she asked, not hiding the gleam in her eyes.

Grant snickered. "You don't know the half of it."

He didn't sound like he was joking, which should've pleased her, but Bethanne was bothered by the dark circles under his eyes. "Is everything okay with you, Grant?" she asked. His well-being no longer had anything to do with her, and yet she couldn't prevent the automatic rush of concern.

"Would it make you happy if I said it wasn't?" He didn't give her a chance to answer. "As a matter of fact, I'm blissfully happy."

Bethanne hadn't realized what a poor liar he was and wondered why she hadn't seen through him during the years he'd been having that affair. She supposed it was because she hadn't wanted to know. "I'm sorry, Grant," she said. She was sincere.

He shrugged in an offhand way.

It was ironic, really, that they'd have their first decent conversation in a parking lot months after their divorce.

"So how's the relationship with the Boy Toy?" he asked. "Or is it the Toy Boy?"

"Do you mean