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my easy chair.
    But before I got there, Reddy had folded me into his arms. Which was bad. Because I started to cry again. And it wasn’t just crying. It was full-out caterwauling. Weeping, sobbing, chest-heaving hysteria, accompanied by double-barreled snot rockets. Not a pretty sight.
    But Reddy didn’t seem to notice any of that. “Hey,” he said softly, stroking my hair. “Hey, what’s wrong, pretty lady?”
    â€œEverything,” I wailed. “My life sucks. My grandmother’s sick and Granddaddy bought a Lincoln and that little shit Tyler at the car lot won’t give me back the money, and I had to fire Rikki and Kevin…” I was gulping for air in between sobs.
    â€œMan,” he said, taking his forefinger and wiping away a streak of mascara. “You have had a rotten day.”
    â€œI know!” I wailed. “And the tenant at West Gordon ran off without paying her rent and the bathroom sink is busted and it’s flooded everything out…”
    He dug a handkerchief out of the pocket of his neatly pressed navy slacks and handed it to me. “Blow,” he instructed.
    So I did.
    He pushed me gently down into the chair. “Sit.”
    And I did.
    Then he went into the kitchen, and when he came back it was with a tray holding two glasses of red wine and a plate with cheese and crackers.
    â€œI bet you haven’t eaten today, have you?” he said sternly.
    I shook my head. “Not hungry.” I reached for the goblet. “Just thirsty.”
    He pushed my hand away. “Eat something first or you’ll give yourself a wine headache.”
    â€œHey,” I said, amazed. “How did you know red wine gives me a headache if I drink it without eating?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “I know these kinds of things.”
    So I nibbled at a cracker with some cheese, and eventually, I was able to stop sniffling and drink a full glass of wine.
    â€œNow,” Reddy said, sipping his own wine. “Start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”
    So I did. I told him about my grandmother’s alarming decline, and the Lincoln, and the trouble with my employees, and the disaster at West Gordon.
    He nodded thoughtfully, not interrupting or offering advice, but just listening.
    It was a new experience, having a man just listen.
    When I was done telling my tale of woe, he leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips.
    â€œAll right, then,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything about your grandmother’s condition. It sounds like you’ll have to talk to her doctors to get a handle on that. But I do have some experience with car dealers, and I should be able to help with the Lincoln situation. This salesman obviously took advantage of your grandfather. And since he’s only had the car for less than a week, there’s no reason they shouldn’t take the car back and refund the money.”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “The little shit was pretty adamant. Did I mention I slapped him?”
    Reddy winced.
    â€œI know, but he started it,” I said.
    He held out his hand, palm up. “Keys, please. I should be back in less than an hour. Will that give you time to get cleaned up and ready for dinner?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œNo buts,” he said, leaning down to give me a kiss. “And no more wine. At least not until I get back to drink it with you.”
    He let himself out the front door, and I leaned back in my armchair and smiled. It was the first thing I’d had to smile about all day.

7
    It started so innocently, with those keys. My hair was still wet from the shower by the time Reddy got back to my place. The cuffs of his pants were soaked, as were his formerly immaculate white tennis shoes.
    â€œDone,” he said lightly, handing over a cashier’s check for the entire $43,000 purchase price of the Lincoln, plus a set of