Ex’s and Oh’s Read Online Free PDF Page A

he didn’t tell her about all the yelling his parents had done when he was growing up, all the slamming doors and shattering vases and pitchers, the ear-singeing accusations and recriminations. When it got too bad, Shane had escaped to Karl’s house. Weather permitting, they went fishing. To this day it’s what Shane did when life got out of control.
    “How did you and Karl meet?” she asked.
    Shane pegged her as an attorney, and probably a damned good one. She sure didn’t give up. Finally, he said, “I grew up on Prospect Street.”
    He saw the dots connect behind her eyes. “You lived next door.”
    “How did you guess?”
    Reaching for her glass of lemonade, she said, “I think I met your mother today.”
    He made a disparaging sound. “Did my beard tip you off?”
    Her smile was wry as she said, “That and your effervescent people skills.”
    Her wit surprised him. It had been a long time since Shane had been surprised.
    “Would you do me a favor?” she asked.
    “That depends.”
    “Karl Peterson trusts you. I’d like to meet him. Would you introduce me to him?”
    He studied her longer than was considered polite. She was trouble, all right. But what the hell else was new?
    On Saturday morning Caroline met Shane beneath the portico at Woodland Country Manor. Rain pinged against the metal roof before running through gutters and downspouts. The building was large and newer than she’d expected.
    Inside, a shrunken old lady called feebly to Shane. “Hello, Shane, dear.”
    “Hi, Mrs. Wilson,” he answered, squeezing her hand on his way by. Other residents called him by name, too, as did most of the staff.
    Walking past people using walkers and wheelchairs, Caroline tried to imagine Henry in a place like this. He wouldn’t have had the patience for it, and she was thankful he hadn’t lingered in his final years.
    “How long has Karl been here?” she asked as they turned down another corridor.
    “Seven months.” Shane knocked on an open door.
    Slowly, they went in.
    The man who looked up was old but not bedridden. His hair might have been red when he was young, but now was sparse and white. Relying heavily on a cane, he was reed thin and had probably been tall once.
    She searched his eyes for something, for some small indication that his mind was intact even though his body was beginning to fail. He looked from her to Shane, unblinking. Shakily, he held out his hand. “Name’s Karl Peterson. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He smiled as if proud of his good manners.
    Caroline’s hopes fell.
    “Who’re you?” the old man asked her.
    Caroline bent down slightly. “I’m—” For the span of one heartbeat, she thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his watery blue eyes. But the moment passed and her disappointment grew.
    “Cat got your tongue, girl?”
    In that instant he sounded just like Henry had, and Caroline softened toward him. “I’m Caroline. Caroline Moore.”
    “Not Carolyn, aye?” he said, lowering heavily into an easy chair. “Caroline. Like North Carolina. Did my basic training there during the big war.” Resting the cane on one knee, he said, “How do you do, Caroline?”
    Before she could reply, he began talking about a fishhe’d caught before lunch. “They say red sky at night, sailor’s delight. It’s not the night that makes for good fishing. You have to wait until morning to know for sure. The stars were still out when we headed for open water this morning.”
    Caroline glanced out the window at the cloudy sky. Listening, she didn’t doubt Karl’s sincerity. His fishing expedition had probably happened exactly as he said it had. But it hadn’t happened today.
    She would have liked to mention her grandmother’s name. Karl lived in the past. Would he remember? Or would it upset him? Before long, he began to nod off, and she and Shane left Karl’s room.
    “Is he always like this?” she asked in the corridor.
    “Sometimes he’s quiet, lost in his own