Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

With a knowing look and a hush in her voice, Ms. Carmichael replied, “I’ll bet you are.”

Blanche wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that statement so she just pressed on, “I guess I’ll spend some more time looking through the paper and Internet for some condo leads. I have an appointment again tomorrow morning, before work, with the realty agency so I want to be prepared.”

“How’s that house hunting going anyway?”

“Slow, at least for now. I’ve got a couple I like but don’t like the neighborhoods very much. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Let me see, let me see,” the older woman whispered to herself, walking around the kitchen until she arrived at the windows overlooking the sink. “Have you looked at the new development just across the highway and south of the Air Force Base? I hear the condos are quite modern and have all the fixtures and appliances included. A fellow who stayed here last month ended up buying one of them. Said it was a good time to buy before the prices start to go up.”

“I’ll have to remember that. I know we haven’t looked anywhere outside of town yet. How much of a drive is it, do you know?”

Caroline rubbed her chin, dusting it with flour residue, “I reckon it’s a good 10 or 15 minutes from where you work but don’t know if they got bus service or not.”

Showing appreciation in her voice, Blanche responded, “That’s very helpful anyway and I’ll see what I can find out about it. Looking forward to those rolls tonight and thanks again for the sandwich.”

Blanche nodded on her way out of the kitchen and could hear the owner say behind her.

“Sandwich, what sandwich?”

Reaching her room and opening the door in anticipation of one more quiet afternoon before having to return to work, she was greeted with the tell tale sound of the thump, thump, thump of the headboard against the wall.

“Are you kidding me!” she said aloud, in hopes that it would quiet the rabbit like neighbors next door. Frustrated and angry, Blanche grabbed her umbrella and purse and stormed out her refuge, leaving the empty room to echo the lover's rhythm being played against the wall.

Deep, restful sleep was elusive for Blanche prior to her meeting with Beverly. She twisted in the sheets, trying to get comfortable, thoughts passing in and out of her fitful dreams making it impossible to reach that peaceful state her mind craved. She desperately needed just a few hours of rest and a reprieve from the never-ending stream of thoughts and ideas. The clock on the end table, glaring at her, was a constant reminder of the few hours available to her for some sleep, it seemed to mock her and gave her brain just one more thing to think about.

When morning finally did come, she felt more exhausted than she had the night before. With her body yelling 'no' she literally rolled from bed, first landing on her knees, then placed her hands on the bed for support, she pushed herself to a standing position. If there was a joint or muscle that was not stiff or sore she didn't know where it was. She managed a quick, very hot shower, which did little to wake her up but did make her aching body less obstinate.

"Been too long since I've run," she thought as she toweled herself off, hoping that she could find time in the near future to get a workout routine going again.

Blanche wrapped the towel around her head and returned to her room but within minutes the humidity brought a fine mist of moisture to the surface of her skin. The towel was used one more time, extended between her hands, she used it like a shoeshine rag, buffing her skin and bringing it to a pink hue. Once completed, she dressed in something a bit less conservative than usual and prepared for the day.

The guests were already enjoying their homemade biscuits and gravy by the time Blanche made her appearance.

"Good morning," everyone said in unison.

Blanche looked around and noted that Mr. 'Wonder' was not among the seated guests.

"What happened to 'Clueless'?” she asked, more out of surprise than care.

Ms. Carmichael jumped in, "He was suddenly called away to Washington on some very important, hush-hush business."

"Or so he said," included Mrs. Muir, continuing to sop her toast in the white gravy. "What's a guy like that doing with connections in Washington?” pausing only momentarily then continued, “I guess it shouldn't come as any great surprise though, I mean just look at the mentality of most of our elected officials."

"Still kind of rubs me wrong, the way he lit out of here with not so much as a good day or thank you," said Caroline.

"What was it he said he did?" the young librarian asked.

"Oh, he said he was in marketing or something like that, never really clarified what he was doing here, always changed the subject when asked directly. Seems more weird now than it did at the time," said Mrs. Muir.

Blanche joined the group and covered her plate with one biscuit, no gravy, a round of sausage and a cup of fruit. Everyone at the table watched as she readied her breakfast before continuing.

"Looks like you had a rough night sweetie," her landlady perceived. "Wasn't our newlyweds was it?"

"No, just too much on my mind, had a hard time getting to sleep," Blanche informed her breakfast companions.

For the next few minutes everyone sat in silence and concentrated on finishing their meal. Blanche was trying to remember what she'd done with the list of condos she'd prepared the afternoon before at the local Internet cafe, when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Good morning everyone,” came a voice from behind her. It sounded somewhat familiar and then it dawned on her. It was the voice she’d heard coming through the wall the past few days. She pivoted in her chair to get a better view of the young couple. They appeared a little different this time around, less shock and surprise on their faces and much less skin showing.

The young bride was even more attractive than Blanche remembered her from the bathroom incident, her black hair framing her face and accentuating her cheekbones and full lips. She was petite but curvy in all the right places and her behind, though very round, looked like you could bounce quarters off of it. Blanche watched her wiggle her bottom around the table and into a chair opposing her own. Her husband was stout and looked like he could pick his wife up with one arm and pack their entire luggage with the other. Not really attractive from Blanche’s perspective but he was fit with a manly, commanding voice.

Hellos were exchanged and introductions made for those that hadn’t had the pleasure. Blanche tried not to meet their eyes, just too embarrassed, knowing what she did about their ‘activities’. As irritated as she was with them, and the impact they had on her sleep the past few days, she had to admit that they looked extremely happy and excited about starting their life together. She was more than a little jealous, the easy smiles back and forth, the hands on the knees under the table, the knowing looks exchanged even with all these people in the room. Ever the hopeless romantic, it still was driving Blanche crazy that they had each other and she had nothing but her books and her dreams of ‘ Mandingo ’.

Mrs. Muir was the only one brave enough to put forth a challenging question, “So, you two just look so happy. You must be having a great time. What do you think of our little town?”

The young wife just about choked on her sausage but managed to say, looking down into her lap, blushing slightly with her response, “Well, to tell you the truth, we really haven’t seen much of your beautiful little city but we are still finding things to do and we’re having a great time.”