French toast?
“I’m not crying,” she said, sniffling and wiping a finger beneath one eye. “I’m fine. It’s just that you know I do everything I can to show you and the kids that I love you. I never ask anything of you except to watch the twins when you can. I do all the cleaning, the cooking, and the washing, plus I hold down a full-time job. I’m happy to do it. But then I find out I’ve hung the wrong curtains in the living room.”
“Curtains? Wait a minute… What?” Derek had a bad feeling his wife was upset that he didn’t help around the house more. He had been steeling himself to apologize when her train of conversation took a sudden twist, like that last unexpected loop on a roller coaster ride.
Curtains. Derek tried to remember the living room drapes. How could curtains matter after a long, tiring day? What they both needed was to hold each other and ease their stress with some welcome loving.
“I don’t know about curtains, baby,” he said, stepping toward her and gathering her in his arms. “All I know is that you look delicious in that little blue thing. I could just eat you up.”
Usually Kim slipped her hands around him and began drawing circles on his bare back. This time she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh.
“The curtains are lace,” she murmured. “From Belgium. I think they’re wonderful, but even Brenda Hansen said they might look better in the dining room. Can you believe that?”
Derek made a valiant attempt to concentrate on his wife’s words instead of on the warm, pliant figure pressed against him. He mumbled in her ear, “So, what was Brenda Hansen doing here?”
“ Your mother asked her to come!” With that, Kim pushed on his chest until he plopped down on the edge of the bed. She began pacing. “Your mother said she thought our house needed Brenda’s decorating expertise. Brenda Hansen is a good friend, but it’s not like she knows everything there is about home decor. She doesn’t have a degree in interior design. I don’t think she even went to college. But everyone around here considers her the expert.”
Reaching the wall, Kim made a U-turn. “Well, I happen to like those curtains,” she went on. “I love them, in fact. And I think they go perfectly well with the leather chairs and the twill couch. I don’t want them hanging in the dining room, because that’s where we have the best lake view. Those windows ought to be left bare, just the way I have them.”
Another U-turn at the opposite wall. “It’s not like I hire Cody Goss to do anything for us. I do it. I do everything myself, because it’s the best way I know to show you all how much I love you. I want you to eat a good, hot meal and hear that food whispering that your wife loves you. When you put on your uniform, it should let you know that I care about you, and that’s why I take the time to wash it and iron it and fold it so neatly.”
Derek began to feel like he was watching a tennis match.
“And I bought those Belgian lace curtains specifically because they were soft and pretty. I keep them washed and bleached and ironed and hung on their rods, because I love my family. Your mother just doesn’t get that. All she can think about is rearranging our home and criticizing my baked potatoes.”
Derek did his best to concentrate, but he had no idea what she was talking about. All he could see were her long, tanned legs; her graceful neck; that slender waist; and the outlined curves beneath her little blue gown.
But now she turned all of a sudden, hands on her hips and brown eyes boring into him. Like a turtle frozen in the middle of a highway, he held his breath and tried to think clearly. The last thing he recalled Kim saying was something about potatoes, but he couldn’t remember what.
“I love your potatoes,” he fumbled out.
She let out a muffled cry of exasperation. “Don’t you get it? She’s sabotaging me with the kids. Now they think we eat too
“I’m not crying,” she said, sniffling and wiping a finger beneath one eye. “I’m fine. It’s just that you know I do everything I can to show you and the kids that I love you. I never ask anything of you except to watch the twins when you can. I do all the cleaning, the cooking, and the washing, plus I hold down a full-time job. I’m happy to do it. But then I find out I’ve hung the wrong curtains in the living room.”
“Curtains? Wait a minute… What?” Derek had a bad feeling his wife was upset that he didn’t help around the house more. He had been steeling himself to apologize when her train of conversation took a sudden twist, like that last unexpected loop on a roller coaster ride.
Curtains. Derek tried to remember the living room drapes. How could curtains matter after a long, tiring day? What they both needed was to hold each other and ease their stress with some welcome loving.
“I don’t know about curtains, baby,” he said, stepping toward her and gathering her in his arms. “All I know is that you look delicious in that little blue thing. I could just eat you up.”
Usually Kim slipped her hands around him and began drawing circles on his bare back. This time she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh.
“The curtains are lace,” she murmured. “From Belgium. I think they’re wonderful, but even Brenda Hansen said they might look better in the dining room. Can you believe that?”
Derek made a valiant attempt to concentrate on his wife’s words instead of on the warm, pliant figure pressed against him. He mumbled in her ear, “So, what was Brenda Hansen doing here?”
“ Your mother asked her to come!” With that, Kim pushed on his chest until he plopped down on the edge of the bed. She began pacing. “Your mother said she thought our house needed Brenda’s decorating expertise. Brenda Hansen is a good friend, but it’s not like she knows everything there is about home decor. She doesn’t have a degree in interior design. I don’t think she even went to college. But everyone around here considers her the expert.”
Reaching the wall, Kim made a U-turn. “Well, I happen to like those curtains,” she went on. “I love them, in fact. And I think they go perfectly well with the leather chairs and the twill couch. I don’t want them hanging in the dining room, because that’s where we have the best lake view. Those windows ought to be left bare, just the way I have them.”
Another U-turn at the opposite wall. “It’s not like I hire Cody Goss to do anything for us. I do it. I do everything myself, because it’s the best way I know to show you all how much I love you. I want you to eat a good, hot meal and hear that food whispering that your wife loves you. When you put on your uniform, it should let you know that I care about you, and that’s why I take the time to wash it and iron it and fold it so neatly.”
Derek began to feel like he was watching a tennis match.
“And I bought those Belgian lace curtains specifically because they were soft and pretty. I keep them washed and bleached and ironed and hung on their rods, because I love my family. Your mother just doesn’t get that. All she can think about is rearranging our home and criticizing my baked potatoes.”
Derek did his best to concentrate, but he had no idea what she was talking about. All he could see were her long, tanned legs; her graceful neck; that slender waist; and the outlined curves beneath her little blue gown.
But now she turned all of a sudden, hands on her hips and brown eyes boring into him. Like a turtle frozen in the middle of a highway, he held his breath and tried to think clearly. The last thing he recalled Kim saying was something about potatoes, but he couldn’t remember what.
“I love your potatoes,” he fumbled out.
She let out a muffled cry of exasperation. “Don’t you get it? She’s sabotaging me with the kids. Now they think we eat too
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