threw up her hands. “And look how great that turned out for her,” she huffed.
Gene thought of the newest boarder he’d just taken in—without his wife’s knowledge, certainly without her permission.
Time to lay some groundwork, he told himself.
“Story’s not over yet, Mel. There’s a second act coming. I just know it. Just remember,” he told her, making eye contact with the woman he had slept beside for five decades, “not everyone has an iron resolve like you.” Gene leaned over and kissed his wife’s temple.
“Don’t try to sweet-talk me into going soft, Gene Strickland,” Melba snapped—but with less verve.
It was obvious that even that small a kiss had her lighting up in response. They had a connection, she and Gene. The kind that poets used to celebrate in their works. And spats or not, the warranty on that connection hadn’t expired yet.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he told her with a straight face. “As a matter of fact, I’m appealing to the businesswoman in you.”
Melba looked at her husband, somewhat confused. Where was all this going? “What’s that supposed to mean?” she wanted to know.
“Well, you’re a savvy businesswoman, aren’t you, Mel?” he asked.
“I like to think so,” she said guardedly, watching her husband as if she expected him to pull a rabbit out of a hat or something equally as predictable, yet at bottom, magical. “Okay, out with it. Just where are you going with this?”
He built the blocks up slowly. “Being a good businesswoman means that you like to make money, true?”
“Yes, yes, we already know this,” she told her husband impatiently. Everyone knew she loved making money, loved the challenge of running the boarding house efficiently. Having half a dozen adults—or so—in one place presented a great many hurdles to clear. But so far she was managing to run the place very successfully. “Get to the point. Sometime before next Christmas would be nice.”
He approached the heart of this matter cautiously, determined to set up a strong foundation first. “A good businesswoman wouldn’t allow personal prejudices to get in the way of her making a good-size profit.”
Though Gene had argued against it, Levi had insisted on paying more than the usual going rate for the room. Most likely in an effort to appeal to the entrepreneur in Melba when she learned of his being there.
“A good-size profit,” she repeated. “What are you getting us into, Gene?” she wanted to know, eyeing her husband suspiciously. Usually, she could rely on him to ultimately come through at the end of the day, doing nothing to jeopardize their way of life or their income. But he was making her nervous now with his vague innuendos. Just exactly what did the man have up his sleeve?
“Making money in what way?” she asked her husband when he didn’t answer her question.
“By renting out the last available room in the boarding house for more than the usual rate,” he told her with just a shade too much innocence to satisfy Melba.
“What are you trying to say, Gene? Come on, spit it out,” she ordered. “Just who is it that you’re renting out this last room to?” she demanded. And then, just before her husband could give her an answer, a look of horrified indignation washed over the older woman’s features. “Oh no, you can’t mean to tell me—”
Her voice had gone up so high that it completely vanished at its peak.
Wanting to get this out and then, hopefully, put to rest, Gene supplied the name that Melba seemed incapable of uttering.
“Levi. Claire’s husband. Yes, I rented it out to him,” he told her with an air of finality that let her know that she was not allowed to toss the young man out on his ear under any circumstances.
Melba glared at him. “Have you gone and lost your mind, Gene?”
The heated accusation did not surprise him. “Not that I know of, no. Last I checked, it was still where it was supposed to be. Right between my ears—same as yours, Mel.”
“Then why aren’t you using it?” Melba wanted to know. Because the man was certainly acting as if he had lost his mind.
“I thought I was,” he told her simply. “Not to mention my heart,” he added pointedly.
“Claire came here to get away from that man,” Melba reminded her husband. “Or did you somehow forget that little fact?”
“No, I didn’t forget that,” he replied calmly. “And since when did you condone cowardice?” Gene wanted to know.
The accusation instantly stirred her up. “What are you talking about?” Melba demanded heatedly. “I am most certainly not condoning cowardice.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Then what would you call letting her run away from her situation instead of facing up to it and trying to resolve it?”
Melba’s scowl deepened, even though it didn’t seem physically possible for it to become any deeper than it already was. She debated giving her husband the silent treatment, but the words were burning on her tongue, and she knew she’d have no peace until this was resolved and she said what had been—and still was—on her mind.
“You and I both know that she married too young,” she said to Gene.
Gene gave her a knowing look. “As I recall, she was the same age as you were when we got married.” Apparently, that little fact had escaped his wife.
“Don’t compare us,” Melba retorted. “I was years older emotionally.”
He tended to agree with her—although there were times when he felt Melba was too young to make competent decisions even at this age. Not that he would ever dare to tell her that.
“Be that as it may,” Gene told her, “Levi’s a good man, Mel, and he loves her.” It was clear that he believed the couple should take another shot at recapturing the magic that had brought them together and had existed in the first months of their marriage.
“Love alone never solved anything,” Melba retorted.
Gene gave her a sly, knowing look. “Maybe not, but it sure gave us something to look forward to on those cold, long nights. Remember?”
Melba pressed her lips together and swatted her husband’s arm. She could feel her cheeks warming. “Behave yourself, Gene.”
Gene chuckled, amused. “You don’t really mean that and you know it,” he told her.
The impish, sexy look he gave her melted the years away and brought them both back to a time when the only aches they felt involved their hearts and striving to be together over her parents’ wishes otherwise.
Rising from his side of the desk, he circled around to where his wife was sitting. Hands bracketing her shoulders, he brought her up to her feet before him. Melba was a small woman. Her bombastic personality made him forget that at times. In reality, Gene all but dwarfed her when he stood beside his wife.
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