For me, as far as wonderful women are concerned, Mel Soames is the first name that comes to mind. “Which wonderful woman?” I asked.
“Marge,” he answered. “She’s a treasure. I got to sleep for three straight hours this afternoon and took a long, hot shower besides. By the time I woke up and came out of the bathroom, Marge had already done three loads of laundry.”
I don’t mind being wrong, but being wrong twice—first about Harry I. Ball and Marge and now about her and Alan Dale—was downright perturbing. The truth was, though, Alan looked far better than he had earlier that morning at the Silver Cloud. The dark shadows under his eyes were slightly less exaggerated, and I suspected that those three hours of sleep were more than he’d had at one time for as long as he’d been in Seattle.
Rather than comment on any of that, I focused on the food. “I picked up some takeout on the way home. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” he said.
So even though it was earlier than Mel’s and my usual dinnertime, I heated the brisket and the baked beans. Alan and I were in the kitchen chowing down a few minutes later when Marge emerged from the guest room with baby Athena in hand. Marge deposited the baby in a little seat of some kind—a kind of slinglike thing that kept Athena at a gentle thirty-five-degree angle.
“Now that you’re finally home,” Marge said, giving me one of her disquieting looks, “I should probably head out soon.”
It occurred to me that if Marge made it to age ninety, she’d be able to give Hilda Tanner a run for her money.
“I know Harry used to love food from Pecos Pit,” I said. “Would you like me to bag up a to-go order for you both?”
“Probably a good idea,” she agreed grudgingly. “I’ll be getting home too late to cook.”
By then Alan was well into his second brisket sandwich and eating like he was one of those starving children from China my mother always used to warn me about. I left my own sandwich resting on my plate long enough to box up food for Harry and Marge. Even so, when I finished, I could see there was still more than enough left over for another meal for Alan, Mel, and me.
“Thanks,” Marge said as I handed her the to-go bag. “By the way, the rocker’s from Mrs. Bailey down in 1703.”
“What rocker?” I asked.
Marge gave me another stink eye. “If you’re going to have a baby around, you need to have a rocking chair,” she advised. “I asked Bob at the front door to track one down for us. It’s on loan for the duration.”
With that she flounced out, taking her food and her oversize purse with her.
“I can’t believe it,” Alan marveled after she left. “Marge is really terrific. She suggested that maybe I should try to grab a nap. While I was sleeping, she put away all the groceries, fed Athena, bathed her, and did a bunch of laundry. And once I woke up, being able to shower at leisure without worrying was amazing. Marge also said that she’s willing to drop by and help out whenever I need her. In fact, she’s coming back tomorrow so I can go talk with Athena’s caseworker from Child Protective Services, to see if there’s any way we can get provisional approval for me to take Athena home to Texas.”
“That’s Marge for you,” I said. “She’s all wool and a yard wide—with a heart of gold.”
And happy to bill me for every minute, but Alan Dale didn’t need to know any of those gory details. That arrangement was strictly between Marge and me, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Chapter 9
AFTER DINNER WAS OVER, I CLEANED UP WHILE ALAN went into the guest room to feed Athena. I heard him turn on the room’s wall-mounted TV. In terms of space, I guess the amenities in our guest room weren’t all that different from what he had become accustomed to in his suite at the Silver Cloud, except I’m pretty sure the hotel clerk wouldn’t have tracked down a rocking chair for his convenience. He came out a few minutes later.
“She’ll sleep for a couple of hours now,” he said, “but I have to say that barbecue was amazing. I didn’t know anybody outside of Texas could cook like that.”
“I guess they call it Pecos Pit for a reason,” I told him.