strange? If Glory had an unlisted number, the telephone operator would have said so. The only G. Carson was some doctor, but I know that isn’t Glory.”
Bram stiffened in his chair.
“Do you suppose Glory gave me a phony name?” he said. “Why would she do that?”
Tux shrugged. “According to you, she’s a very beautiful woman. Maybe she gets rid of hustlers like you by inventing a name, making it impossible for you to bother her.”
“I’m not a hustler!” Bram frowned. “Well, I was in my former swinging single life...sort of. But not now. I’m sincere, honest and trustworthy.”
“Brave, courageous and bold,” Tux added.
“Would you knock it off? Come on, Tux. You’re the private investigator in the family, so investigate, for Pete’s sake. Find Glory Carson for me.”
“Chill, little brother,” Tux said. “I’m leaping into action.”
“It’s about time,” Bram muttered.
Tux opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed the telephone book, placing it in front of him.
“Oh, man,” Bram said, “are you deaf? I already did that bit.”
Tux glared at Bram.
“Did you check the yellow pages?” Tux asked.
“What for?” Bram said, flinging out his arms. “Glory didn’t strike me as someone who might be a plumber or exterminator.”
“Bishop, shut up a minute, will you?” Tux said.
“I’m taking my bear back,” Bram said. “You’re worthless, Bishop.”
“You can’t have the panda,” Tux said, flipping to the yellow section of the telephone book. He began to turn pages, one at a time. “It now belongs to my son or daughter. Whew. Can you believe it, Bram? I’m going to be an honest-to-goodness father.”
Bram smiled. “It’s wonderful, it really is. You’ll be a great daddy, Tux, and Incredibly Beautiful Nancy sure will be a super mother. I’m really happy for you guys.”
“Thanks. We’re on Cloud Nine, that’s for sure. Well, actually, Nancy kind of came down off the cloud this morning when she was tossing her cookies. Morning sickness is really the pits.”
“Yeah, I bet it is. What did you do for her?”
“I suggested it might be a good idea to put something back in her stomach, you know what I mean? I offered to heat up the leftover pizza we had last night.”
“And you lived to tell about it?” Bram asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Just barely. I won’t do that again, believe me.” Tux leaned closer to the telephone book. “Man, I’m a top-notch investigator. I should receive an award for solving this case so quickly. Maybe I’ll settle for sending you a megabucks bill.”
“Why? What?” Bram said, getting to his feet.
“It’s right here,” Tux said, tapping the page. “Dr. Glory Carson is a psychologist specializing in marriage counseling. She has an office in a building about six blocks from here.”
Bram sank back onto the chair, an incredulous expression on his face.
“She is Dr. G. Carson?” he said. “Why didn’t she correct me when I called her ‘Ms’? A marriage counselor?” He raked both hands through his hair. “Oh, hell, that’s terrible.”
“Why? What’s wrong with her profession? Hey, it says the lady has brains, as well as looks. Dr. Carson is not a bubblehead.”
“I realize that, Tux, but, cripe, a marriage counselor? She spends her days listening to people with messed-up marriages, then suggests appropriate behavior, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Don’t you get it?” Bram said. “This is not an ordinary woman. This is someone with an indelible ink blueprint of how things should be done in a relationship.”
“Oh,” Tux said. “I see your point. Well, maybe she has an open mind regarding her personal life.”
“Then why isn’t she married? No, she’s a tough case. You should have seen the wall clank into place when I asked her how long her hair was when she didn’t have it pulled back.”
“You asked her that? The first time you talk to the woman, you ask her that? On an airplane? Bram, you’re hopeless. You’re doomed.”
“I wanted to know,” Bram yelled.
“It wasn’t the appropriate time or place, dumbbell.”
“Ah-ha!” Bram said, pointing one finger in the air. “See? There’s that word again. My blunders are going to be magnified tenfold by someone whose profession is centered on appropriate behavior.”
“Yep,” Tux said, nodding slowly. “I do believe you’re right, which is unusual for you.”
“This is going to call for finesse, expertise, a very carefully thought through approach.”
“That leaves you out. Forget Glory Carson.”
“Not a chance.” Bram got to his feet, reached across the desk and tore the page from the telephone book.
“Hey!” Tux said.
“I need this. Thanks, Tux. Hug Nancy for me. Don’t forget to feed the panda. He likes hamburgers and fries, no mustard, extra catsup. See ya.”
Tux watched his brother stride from the room, then turned to look at the bear.
“Count your blessings that you’re going to live with me, Nancy and our baby, kiddo,” he said to the panda.
Friday at noon, Glory sat at the desk in her office, eating the lunch she’d packed at home. She usually studied the files of her afternoon clients during the break, but today she found she couldn’t concentrate.
The week since she’d returned from the seminar in Austin had seemed especially long, the days dragging by. She’d recuperated energywise after a solid night’s sleep on Sunday, had typed the notes from the conference into a semblance of order and placed them into appropriate files in the cabinet.
Glory sighed.
What she had not managed to do during the week was to follow her own firm directives to put Bram Bishop out of her mind.
For some unknown and very annoying reason, Bram had hovered in her mind’s eye, the image so clear she could actually hear his rich voice and rumbly laughter.
She’d purposely scooted into the aisle of the airplane as quickly as possible when she’d seen that Bram was busy helping passengers retrieve their possessions from the overhead compartments.
While
