Chapter 6: Miss Nadine Spencer

"I hope you like New England style clam chowder," Beverly said, "It was delivered this morning, from Boston." She wore what I considered an excessive amount of eye makeup.

After two hours of showing her our plan to make her home warm and friendly, I was ready to give up. While she had listened to my pitch, her level of interest was detached, like she had something else on her mind. I found the way she looked at me distracting and her constant bumping into me as I moved around the house, kept me on edge. Was she serious about having the work done or not?

"Yes," I lied, not sure if I liked New England style clam chowder. Now I was going to have to eat lunch with her.

"That makes me very happy," she smiled.

We were half way through the main course, wild Alaskan salmon, when the telephone rang. It was Jen, wanting to speak to me.

"Answer with one word, yes or no," Jen said. "Is she listening to us on an extension?"

"No" Beverly was right there, watching.

"Is the contract signed?"

"No."

"You didn't get the deposit then, did you?"

"No."

"Has she shown you her bedroom?"

"Not yet."

"I told you to answer with one word, yes or no," Jen said, sternly, with a hint of a snicker.

"Ah, no."

"There's an emergency. Dan's not going to be able to paint the gazebo after all. I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

"Emergency? Can't it wait until next week?" I asked, more for Beverley's benefit than Jen's. Her timing couldn't have been better. It offered the perfect excuse for me to escape.

"Benny... the weather... you know you can't depend on another nice day like this," Jen said, sounding convincing.

"The weather, right, I'll need..."

"I have everything," she said, cutting me off in mid sentence.

I explained to Beverly about the emergency; making it sound like a turn in the weather could delay NASA launching an international trip to outer space.

"I'll leave the displays here so you can show your friends how your kitchen is going to look," I offered.

"When will you pick them up? Soon, I hope."

"Yes, soon," I assured her as I stepped through the door.

Jen was driving the van and had everything I would need. Well, almost. I hopped in the back, looking for the paint overalls and my work boots, thinking I would change clothes in route.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue," I said, sitting on the floor in the back of the van and watching her scowl. "Where are the paint overalls?"

"False alarm, Dan called, wanting to know if he should prime the surface before painting. I gave him Ed's cell phone number and then I thought of you being held hostage."

"Ingenious!" I exclaimed, approving of her quick thinking. Her smile made me forget my hatred for her, for a few seconds.

When we got home Ed was there. I told him I had struck out with Miss Beverly Worthington.

"I'm not surprised. Women that age have a hard time deciding what they want."

"I heard that," Jen said. "I'm that age."

"Especially single women can't decide what they want," he amended his comment.

She hugged him and they kissed with no regard for my presence. I went upstairs to my room without finding out why Ed had gone with Stew to look at building sites.

Over the next few days I took two of Beverly's telephone calls and Jen helped me dodge the other two by saying I was out, lying really. Heavy rains forced us to take Tuesday off and since Jen was at work, I was forced to take Beverly's call.

"I'm off for the holiday and have some questions. When can you be here?" she asked.

Ed let me take the van.

"You're soaked," she said as soon as I came through the door. "Give me your clothes. We'll put everything in the dryer."

I had to remove my boots to get my pants off. "Your socks look wet, too," she said, actually falling to her knees and touching my socks. "They are. Give them to me," she said, looking up at me. Her face was inches from my cock and for a second I thought she was going to touch my shorts to see if they were damp.

"Is that a bulge?" she asked, taking her eyes off my jockey shorts to look into my eyes.

"No."

"I'm twenty-five, not twelve. I know a bulge when I see it. Do I arouse you, Ben?"

"No," I answered without thinking.

Beverly rose to her feet, a sullen look on her face. I considered apologizing for the way I had answered, but since it was the truth, almost, I felt compelled to let it stand.

She started the dryer and for the next fifteen minutes I walked around the house in my shorts answering her questions. She was well prepared, asking things I didn't know. "Who are your sub-contractors? Are these the only colors this tile comes in? Is it premium grade?"

"I'll have to get back to you," I admitted.

"When?"

"I can call you later today."

"I prefer to see you in person."

"Okay, I can come back tomorrow if it rains. Otherwise, are you free tomorrow night?"

She batted her eyes, nervously and I willed her not to cry. "I'm an old maid school teacher. I'm free most every night, except tomorrow night I have a family engagement I must attend."

We heard the dryer stop running. Beverly felt my pants, testing for dampness before handing them to me. She was watching me put them on when she got the idea to invite me to her family's gathering. "It's only the immediate family. You know most everyone."

"Thanks you, Beverly, but we have something like that planned," I said, as if I were suddenly remembering a family commitment.

She watched as I zipped up my pants. "Ben, my father is a very influential man in this town."