Welcome! This week we have more conversation between Mac and Callie int he story with no name. They were among my first heroes and heroines. I still love them and their banter comes back to me just like it was long ago when they first came into my life. I hope you enjoy this snippet and you go on to read the rest of the stories by my esteemed colleagues. Find their stories HERE.
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Mac turned to his wife. “So who is this chick you’re foisting off on poor, unsuspecting Professor Garrett?”
“You know her.”
“I do?” Mac raised an eyebrow.
“Yep. It’s Charlie, the painter.”
“Who?”
“Charlie,” Callie repeated, patiently.
“That woman in man’s clothing?”
“Mac, please keep an open mind. She dresses
that way because she spends her day fixing plaster, painting walls, doing
dirty, physical work.”
“A man’s work.”
“Your prejudice is showing.” Callie pushed to her feet.
“Honestly, Callie. I’m just telling it as I
see it. She’s a mess.”
“Sure, when she’s working. But I’m betting
that under that paint smudged face and ungainly hat is a stunning young woman.”
“How can you tell?” he asked.
“I can’t.” she strolled into the kitchen.
“So you’re taking a risk? Rolling the dice,
gambling on Mark Garrett’s goodwill?” He followed her.
“You could put it that way. But if I’m right,
he’ll be the big winner,” Callie said, opening the fridge.
“And so will she. He’s a pretty hot guy, I’m
guessing.”
“Yes. And, yes, she will be. It’s a win/win,
if I’m right.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Mac asked, cocking
one eyebrow.
“Let’s not go there,” Callie said, pulling a
frown. “Hmm. Left over lasagne or pizza?”
“I had the pizza for lunch,” Mac said.
“Then lasagne it is. Will you make a salad?”
She asked. Pulling a large glass pan from the fridge shelf and placing it on
the counter.
“Sure.” Mac stepped up to the fridge and
opened the crisper drawer.
“Just think of the outcome, if I’m right,”
she said.
“Should I brush off my tuxedo?” He grinned.
“That might be a bit premature,” she
laughed.
“I never doubt your nose for these things.
You have a 100 percent win record as a matchmaker.”
“Fingers crossed that holds this time, too,” she said, her voice hopeful.
Mac placed lettuce and other salad fixings
on the kitchen table, then joined his wife at the stove. “It’s a slam dunk, with you pulling the strings, baby,” he said, leaning over to kiss his wife.
