~ My Pretty Lady ~

by

Marilyn Gardiner

That evening they came in too tired to do more than sprawl across the bed and talk.

"We’re becoming ‘foodies,’ you know."

"Is that good or bad?"

"San Francisco is known for foodies. Dining enthusiasts of the highest order. We seem to fit right in."

She nodded contentedly. "Will you still love me when I’m sized 26?"

"Have you heard the old song, ‘Huggin’ and ‘A Chalkin’?"

He easily deflected the pillow Ellen fired at him.

"You still have a smudge of chocolate ice cream on your chin."

"I don’t."

"You do. Lie still and I’ll get it off."

"Drew! That isn’t my chin, you idiot. I couldn’t possibly have ice cream there!"

There was a brief tussle, brief because neither of them had the energy to continue, and they stretched out again, side by side, on the bed.

They fell asleep that night tucked together like spoons in a drawer, fitting comfortably as if molded to exact dimensions. Ellen went to sleep with her arm drawn through his and folded across his chest. The back of his shoulder was warm against her cheek and the rise and fall of their breathing was in unison.

It was after one o’clock when the phone rang, jangling them out of sleep with an abrasiveness that set Ellen’s heart to hammering painfully. Drew answered groggily.

"Yes? Who do you wish to-- Just a minute."

He turned to Ellen, his mouth in a grim line. "It’s your friend Liz. There may be a problem from the sound of things, but whatever it is, remember we face it together. Okay?"

Ellen scrambled out of bed, tangling her feet in the sheets and feeling the blood drain from her face. Her brain was trying to compute the time in Maryland. It was what? Ten o’clock or thereabouts.

"Remember, I said together." Drew handed her the phone.

"Yes, Liz. What is it?" And before Liz said a word Ellen knew it was going to be bad. She could hear the sounds of hysteria in the background.

Always no nonsense, Liz went right to the point. "Allison has to talk to you. I agreed only on the condition that I dialed you and spoke first." Even with her heart pounding in her throat, Ellen realized Liz was trying to protect her. Liz went on. "There is apparently a problem with finances. An acute problem, I gather, which Allison will not tell me about. She called Brooke from school a couple of hours ago, in the hopes of talking to you, and when you weren’t there she panicked and hopped on a bus to come home. She’s… I’ve never seen her quite like this, Ellen, and I decided that calling you was the only thing to do. She has already called your mother and is threatening to notify the police."

Standing on the thick, creamy carpet in her bare feet, Ellen began to tremble. She was aware that Drew wrapped a robe around her and then enveloped her in his arms from behind.

"Is that Allison I hear crying?" she asked.

"No. That’s Casey. I can handle Casey." Liz’s voice lowered. "Allison has turned into block of solid oak. She looks as if she’d like to take a hatchet to me. I’m sorry to have to put you through this, but I didn’t know what else to do."

Ellen knew Allison when she got this way. Singleminded, seething in a towering anger like an avenging prophetess. Her sarcasm could curdle cream.

"It’s my problem, Liz, not yours. Put her on."

She could feel Drew’s breath on her neck and heard him whisper, "Remember. Together we can handle it," but her entire concentration was on Allison and what she was going to say. Without thinking, Ellen braced herself.

"Well," Allison’s voice was brittle. "Where are you? Shacking up with that man I suppose."