Read Gone With a Handsomer Man for Free Online

I’d tried to speak softly and carry a big stick just like President Roosevelt said to do, but I couldn’t hold back another second. “You’re worse than evil,” I said. “You sent me to cake school so you could womanize in the backyard, and I’m the bad guy?”
    “You’re not a guy. You’re just a bitch in trouble—and you’re a violent bitch, too.” His voice screaked up at the edges. “Never in my life has a woman hit me.”
    “I didn’t mean to. But when I saw what I saw, I went crazy.”
    “A normal woman would cry and pack a suitcase, not climb a tree.”
    “Is that what you wanted? For me to catch you?”
    “Teeny, I swear. Have you been sniffing oven cleaner? Hell, no, I didn’t want to be caught. You know how I hate confrontations.”
    My knees wobbled and I dropped to the floor. I wished he and those women were dead and gone, killed in a twenty-car pileup on the Savannah Highway. A tear ran down my cheek into the corner of my mouth. It tasted salty. Tears from crying jags aren’t like the tears you get when you chop onions. I read that somewhere. Bing didn’t care about trivia; he cared about grammar. He’d even bought me a word-a-day calendar. But sometimes he dropped his guard and dropped his g s like a natural-born Charlestonian. “ Darlin’, don’t wait up for me, ” he’d say. “ I’m workin’ late this evenin’. ”
    I was like those g s. He’d dropped me, too. And it wasn’t 100 percent Natalie’s fault. I bet she’d never write him a love note with incorrect grammar. Just the other day I’d left one that said, Your the best. And Bing had written back:
    Dear Crackerbilly,
    It’s you’re the best, although you   are will work, too.
    Love you anyway,
    Bing
    “Answer me one thing,” I said. “Why did you ask me to marry you?”
    “Don’t ask stupid questions. You’re cute. And I loved you, I guess.” He exhaled. “Can we discuss this later? I could be bleeding internally for all I know. And my head is killing me.”
    “I need to settle my housing situation.”
    “Oh, all right. Meet me at McTavish’s Pub at five o’clock tonight and we’ll talk. You remember McTavish’s?”
    “No,” I said, biting down on the word. Clearly he’d taken another woman to that pub. Who was he mixing me up with?
    “The pub is a few blocks from Uncle Elmer’s,” he said. “And Teeny?”
    “Yes?”
    “I’m not a cold-hearted bastard. It just looks that way. I might let you stay at Uncle Elmer’s for a while. Who knows? After we leave the pub, maybe I’ll take you out for dessert.”
    His lighthearted tone sounded like the old Bing, but I didn’t trust him. I hung up without saying good-bye. He liked to tell people we’d gotten engaged because I wouldn’t give him the recipe to my peach cobbler. That’s sort of true. I’d sworn to Aunt Bluette I’d keep it a secret. I may be tasteless, I may be short, but when Teeny Templeton makes a promise, she keeps it.

seven
    Here in Charleston, you can’t swing a squirrel without hitting a professional chef, but I was determined to find a cooking job. While I sipped coffee, I studied the phone book and made a list of restaurants and cafés. Then I locked up the Spencer-Jackson House and stepped into the brick corridor. A bulky pink envelope lay just inside the entry gate. I tore open the envelope and found my car key and a note from Miss Dora.
    Dear Teeny,
    Estaurado parked your car on Adgers and filled it up with gas. I’m cleaning one of the guest rooms today, but it’s a sight! It won’t be ready for a while. Hang in there.
    Love, Dora
    I pushed down my disappointment and headed down the sidewalk. The noon sun burned my shoulders as I walked down East Bay. Even before I got to the corner, I spotted my turquoise Olds in a lot off Adgers. My car key wouldn’t fit on Miss Dora’s tasseled chain, so I’d have to be extra careful not to lose it. I put down the convertible top, drove out of the parking lot, and turned onto