The Price of Candy Read Online Free

most by her overzealous
mother. At least that’s what she believed. She couldn’t speak for
Abby.
    She had bad vibes about this reunion. All the
memories would be unhappy and there’s no fun in recalling those.
Abby must have something else on her mind.
    She located Abby’s house out in the western
part of the county and parked her Miata MX5 at the curb. The small
lipstick-red convertible was sharp, bright and lively, a good match
with the driver. The house was modest, white stucco, in an older
neighborhood. Attractive roof overhangs covered small front and
back porches. A gravel driveway ran back to a detached garage with
matching roof. Abundant mature palms and oaks adorned the entire
neighborhood, which contained mostly so-sensible-white stucco
houses each striving to be distinctive by different colored
shutters and roofs.
    Abby waved cheerfully and held the front door
open. “Remember me, Abigail Olin? You’re prettier than I remember.
Short hair looks good on you, perfect for breezing around with the
top down, huh. Come on inside, Sandra.”
    “Make it Sandy.” She didn’t remember Abby at
all and sensed no comfortable old-acquaintance aura about her.
“Funny we both ended up living in Florida.” She hadn’t intended to
live permanently in Florida when she sacrificed her dream job in
Philly to help her brother down her in Park Beach.
    Somewhere along the way, Florida had touched
her. Perhaps touched to discover she could drive her cherished MX-5
with the top down all year, see green every month, and go to the
beach on Christmas Day. A pleasant barefooted walk along the beach
catching the ocean breeze finished her off. She decided to stay and
finish law school at Florida Atlantic University. It wasn’t the
University of Pennsylvania, but she would graduate at the top of
her class. She was confident about that.
    “Looks as if you’re far ahead of me, Abby.
You’ve a house and I guess a family. I saw a girl’s bike in the
driveway.”
    “Was ahead, for awhile, before the divorces.
Just two. The first a disaster. He was a hunk, but he was more
interested in bars, beer, and buddies than sex. Go figure. A girl
should stay active, you know. He expected me to clean up after him
and his dog. He wasn’t even house broken. The dog that is. You
don’t really know someone until you’ve smelled his socks. Next, I
overcompensated and ended up trapped with a shy one. This second
guy owned this nice house. That made all the difference. So we got
married and I moved in. After he remodeled it, he liked it so much
he didn’t want to leave. Why go anywhere? Like there’s so much
excitement and adventure at home. It doesn't take much to light my
fire, but it was like living with your brother. He loved the kid,
so let him stay home with her. The only time he took me out was to
the marriage counselor. I’d lost interest in sex according to him.
He told me we could try something new in bed if that’s what I
wanted. Christ, is that pitiful or what. I hadn’t lost interest. I
told him he just didn’t measure up to what was out there waiting.
Been there, done him.”
    “So you got the house. He got the child.”
Sandy wondered what that said about her.
    “We began talking divorce and his answer to
everything was, ‘whatever’, just so he got custody of our daughter.
Well, Mr. Whatever ended up with neither. How about you? You got a
guy?”
    Sandy wanted out of there. She had better
things to do. Although she didn’t owe this woman any politeness,
she decided to stick with it for a few more minutes. “I broke off
with a significant other in Philly when I left. We weren’t on the
same page anyway. I’m seeing a nice man down here. However, he’s
not yet significant.” She saw no point in mentioning he was a
detective with the city police. “I guess I remember you, Abby,” she
lied. “It’s been what, fifteen years?”
    She thought the woman appeared pleasant
enough, but somehow rumpled looking with gobs of