Ten-Finger Exercises

Margot's business

“Oh, no!” said Margot. “I didn’t think anybody could see my garage around that island of trees.”

“Come over here and take a look,” said Wren, walking toward her kitchen window. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much though. It’s certainly not a problem for me. I only mentioned it…well I was going to say because I wondered how you were getting along, but I guess that’s not true. I guess I was just being catty.”

Margot walked on past the window, closer to the property line, and looked again. Satisfied, she came back to where Wren was standing. "We've been having a good time. He really is a nice man, and funny too. I'm getting used to his questions."

"Now that he settled that big question, about having a job?"

"Yes, I have to admit that made a big difference. It really puzzles me though, how it is I didn't know about that already. Why had he let me think he was just a writer?"

"There you go with that "just a writer" thing again."

"You know what I mean. Do you suppose he wanted me to think he was poor and starving until he decided if he liked me?"

"You didn't think he was 'poor and starving' with a car like that, did you?"

"I hadn't seen the car before. He picked me up in a cab the only times we'd been out together."

"And he didn't say he was having his car worked on, or any other excuse?"

"No, not a word. I remember thinking it was odd."

"Don't you ever ask him questions?"

"I didn't want him to think I was so material."

"But you are!"