in the historic section. There was an advertisement for the bed and breakfast and the local café. Martha read on. It looked so…warm and welcoming. She MapQuested it. It was within a reasonable commute of south Charlotte, North Carolina. This was absolutely a possibility.
“You’ve been procrastinating for weeks,” Suzette complained again. “Do I have to take matters into my own hands?”
Pushing her off his lap, Blaine did the cursory clean up with some Kleenex and carefully zipped his fly. How the woman could talk and complain so much during sex was beyond his realm of understanding. “The situation is under control,” he said, without even trying to hide the edge of disgust from his voice. If she didn’t know such amazing little tricks with that pouty mouth of hers, he might have set her aside long ago. As it was, he was growing hard just thinking about it.
Pausing mid-lipstick application, Suzette slowly turned and batted her long dark lashes at him. “Whatever do you mean?” Her voice was laced with excitement and hints of seduction. She lazily walked over to him, beaming.
“Apparently,” he began slowly, enjoying the torture of drawing out the details, “my wife has decided we should move south.”
Nostrils flaring, she stood ramrod straight. “You’re moving,” she snarled. Her fists clenched at her side.
Blaine eyed them warily, convinced that they would fly with very little provocation. “No, Martha is moving.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to catch on.
Instantly, she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Blaine,” she breathed into his ear. “We’re going to be so happy. Just you wait and see.” And with that, she extricated herself from his neck and flounced back out to her office.
For the first time in nearly a month, Blaine ate dinner at home. Martha had specially requested it, and so he felt as though it was the least he could do given the circumstances. With her usual efficiency and ease, she had created a wonderful southern meal, reminiscent of what he might find in…he consulted the manila folder of information beside his plate…ah, New Hope, South Carolina. There was a mound of some indistinct cooked green leafy vegetable that had pork and onion laced through it, fried chicken, a biscuit, some creamy macaroni and cheese, and a glass of an iced amber liquid. He had almost giddily grabbed it as he entered the dining room. It had been a rough day and he was secretly hoping for something, anything on the rocks. He nearly spit the super sweet chilled liquid out. “What is this?” He managed to splutter.
“Sweet tea,” Martha responded while trying desperately to hide a laugh. As serious as Blaine was, he never took kindly to being the butt of a joke whether real or imagined.
After they had settled into the meal, he glanced through the folder she had so carefully prepared. “What do you think?” she asked, nearly giddy for the first time since the miscarriage. Suddenly, his approval was very important to her.
“If this is where you want to go, start making arrangements.” He pushed much of the food on his plate around with his fork in an effort to make it look at least nibbled on. If this was truly how they ate down south then he would find more work as a cardiologist than as a plastic surgeon. He grimaced then left the table, leaving the folder, the food, and Martha behind.
She barely noticed his departure. Her mind was reeling with the possibilities. She had arrangements to make. Soon it occurred to her, she didn’t know how many people to make the arrangements for. She walked to the doorway, and ran into Blaine heading her way. “I forgot to ask,” she began breathlessly.
“Just make arrangements for you,” he said crisply, knowing full well what she needed. “I am too busy to leave right now. I’ll follow you later.”
Martha smiled, almost. She had a plan. It was a good plan. She would move south and find hope and be happy. Blaine would follow soon. And maybe after some time apart they could reconnect and work on that baby she’d always wanted. In the meantime, she would be content to make a new home for them.
She skipped back to the keeping room. She had some online reservations to make. She knew precisely where she was going to stay. For once, she was going to treat herself and take their best room. She would wake up early, an old habit that died during her depression, and