I glared at him and before my temper caught up to my brain, I bit out, “Fine.”

His eyebrows went up. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” I clipped. “Although I’m not all fired up to let a big, fat jerk look after them, you’re right. I haven’t been able to sort out anyone to look after them while I’m working. I need someone to look after them while I’m working and although you’re a big, fat jerk to me, you aren’t to them and Billie likes you. So, fine. Thanks,” I expressed my gratitude acidly. “If you could watch them this weekend that would be a huge help.”

After I finished he stared at me. I glared at him.

Then he said, “Great. I’ll be there at eleven.”

“Perfect.” My tone was still injected with acid.

He didn’t move. I didn’t either.

Then for some reason the blankness went out of his face and his eyes started to warm.

“Mara –”

I shook my head and started to the door, saying, “Oh no you don’t. You can’t be mean to me and then be nice because being mean makes you feel shit because you’re usually a nice guy.” I stopped and put my hand on the handle of the door and my eyes hit his. “It’s okay to be mean to me, Mitch. Even people that are nice all the time are mean to people like me. I’m used to it. Go with it. Just don’t ever be mean to them.” I jerked my head toward the showroom, so caught in executing my dramatic tirade that I didn’t notice his expression had changed completely. Thus I didn’t notice how it had changed. “They don’t deserve it and the reason I took all this on is to make certain they don’t ever get to the place that they do. Now, are we done here?”

He was again studying me closely.

Then he said quietly, “I don’t think we are.”

“Well, I disagree,” I retorted, turned the handle and without looking back, I marched right out.

Chapter Eight

Spring Deluxe

I was no more than two steps into the showroom when Mr. Pierson materialized out of thin air, arm extended to some point behind me.

I stopped and turned as he passed me and I watched him capture Mitch’s hand and pump it zealously.

“Hello there!” he cried with manic sociability. “I’m Bob Pierson, owner of Pierson’s Mattress and Bed.” He let Mitch go while I blinked because Mr. Pierson wasn’t a stranger to the showroom floor but he’d never acted like this. I was so deep in my surprise, I wasn’t able to do anything about Mr. Pierson curling an arm tight at my waist and hauling me into his side before he continued, “And I’ve been this delightful little lady’s very lucky boss for the last seven years!” He turned his head to look at me then back to Mitch before he finished grandly, “My Mara could sell a mattress to a bat she’s so good at it.” He gave me an affectionate squeeze that was so affectionate, it rocked my whole body. “Aren’t you, dear?”

“Um…” I mumbled.

“Mitch Lawson,” Mitch saved me by introducing himself in return.

Mr. Pierson nodded. “I hear you’re Mara’s neighbor.”

“Yeah,” Mitch replied, his eyes no longer expressionless but now filled with amusement.

“Good neighbor to have, the police detective who worked with the FBI to sweep the streets of Denver clean,” Mr. Pierson declared, my head turned slowly to him and he kept talking. “Read all about that triple bust in the papers, son, saw your picture too. Bet your parents are real proud. I know, I was them, I would be.”

What was this? Triple bust? FBI? Mitch in the papers?

I looked back at Mitch. I did this making a mental note that after whatever happened to Bill, happened to Bill and I got the kids beds, clothes that fit and weren’t stained or worn out; shoes of the same caliber; kept them fed; got them decent afterschool childcare; and gave them a life that would lead them directly out of the One to Three Zone and straight to the Seven to Ten Zone they deserved to live in that I would buy some tools, learn about plumbing and cars and also start reading the paper.

“You worked with the FBI?” I heard coming from my side and I looked there to see Billy, keeping his distance behind a mattress, eyeing Mitch with his face semi-hard, semi-curious.

“Hey Billy,” Mitch replied.

Billy’s eyes darted to me then back to Mitch then he said, “Hey.” Pause then, “You worked with the FBI?”

“Yeah, Bud,” Mitch answered.

Billy pressed his lips together, for some reason having difficulty making up his mind about what to think of this.

At this point Billie careened into our conversation and she did this by careening directly into Mitch’s h*ps at the side, wrapping her arms around them, looking up at Mr. Pierson and announcing, “He bought me butterflies and flowers!” Then she pointed at the barrette I put in her hair that morning which had a heart on it, not a butterfly or flower. Then she pointed at her chest before she held out her hand with three fingers up. “And three pretty outfits!” Not done she concluded on a shout, “And a fluffy pink teddy bear!”

My eyes slid to Mr. Pierson to see, for some unhinged reason, he looked about ready to burst with joy at this news.

“Well isn’t that just fantastic!” Roberta took this moment to join us; she pushed right in and also pumped Mitch’s hand exuberantly, saying, “I’m Roberta. I work with Mara. And let me just say, you totally missed out with her pizza.”

Oh God, no. Not the pizza.

Roberta, please shut up!

Before I could open my mouth to say something that might make my friend shut up, she kept going. “Trust me, nothing is worth missing Mara’s barbeque chicken pizza. Nuh-thing. Next time, make certain you don’t get called away.”

Mitch’s eyes cut to me.

Oh crap.

“Uh…” I mumbled.

“I love Auntie Mara’s pizza!” Billie screeched.

Oh crap!

“I should probably get back to work,” I put in, unfortunately sounding just as desperate to escape this new and excruciating personal life crisis as I was.

“Oh no, no, take your time, dear,” Mr. Pierson said magnanimously. “Or, actually,” he looked at Mitch, “what kind of mattress do you have?”

Damn.

“What kinds are there?” Mitch unwisely asked and Mr. Pierson’s face melted into a smile.