Finding Floyd Read Online Free PDF Page A

the big, family sized toaster. She
flew around the room, still humming softly, cracking eggs into a
bowl and setting two places at the table. The eggs were beaten; a
skillet was heating on the burner. She quickly checked the bacon.
Almost done.
    Returning to the bedroom, she changed from
her worn flannel shirt and jeans to a pretty blue dress that
revealed considerable cleavage, and then decided a little make-up
couldn't hurt. She studied herself in the mirror. Not bad!
    She rapped softly on the doorframe to the
living room, but received no answer. Peeking inside, she saw that
the room was empty. The blankets and pillows Chris had used were
folded neatly on the couch, but all his belongings were gone as if
he'd never been there.
    Where'd he go? I know. He must've decided to
sleep upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Sure, that's it.
    At the foot of the stairs, she called him,
but heard nothing except the ticking of the tall case clock in the
foyer. She quickly mounted the steps and checked the rooms, but
they were all empty. Even his duffle bag was gone. Where the hell
did he go?
    Puzzled, she returned to the kitchen. There
was a soft sputtering from the oven and she smelled burning bacon.
"Man! I forgot the bacon." Pulling open the oven door, she grabbed
for a pot holder, reached for the sheet pan, and carefully laid it
on the stove. Her thumb touched the hot pan and she grimaced. The
bacon was obviously overdone. Dismayed, she slumped against the big
farm sink and ran cold water over her thumb.
    Wandering over to the side window, she looked
outside at the huge oak laying on its side with its massive
branches spread over the driveway and across the lawn. Amazingly,
all the snow and ice had melted. Chris's SUV was gone too, as
though he'd never been there at all. Just like every man she'd ever
wanted, he'd vanished.
    Angrily, she tossed a pat of butter into the
hot skillet. The butter sizzled as she expertly tilted the pan to
distribute it. The eggs followed the butter into the pan and they
sizzled as she slid her spatula under them. Her temper rose and
sizzled right along with them.
    "What a bastard," she growled. "He just
walked out without even a goodbye. What's wrong with men anyway?"
With more force than necessary, she slammed around the room as she
finished cooking her breakfast. "Are they all such bastards? Or
just the ones I like?" Switching off the fire, she jammed the lever
down on the toaster and the bread slices disappeared into their
slots. "I'll just eat this by myself." Sliding the fluffy eggs into
a bowl, she slammed the skillet down on the stove and yelled, "I
hate all men!"
    Startled by loud rapping on the back door,
she screamed, nearly upsetting the eggs. She stared in confusion at
the door. The shadow of a large man was outlined on the curtain
hanging over the window.
    "Hold your fire!"
    Her heart pounding, armed with her dripping
spatula, she approached the door. "Who's there?"
    "Miss Diane? I surely hope you don't mean
that you hate me," a voice called through the glass.
    "Oh! Mr. Evans." Relieved, Diane pulled the
door open. "Good morning."
    Shielding his face with his arms, he peered
at her. "Is it safe?"
    Diane laughed. "Yes, it's safe. You're not in
my line of fire."
    The big man smiled at her, one hand touching
the brim of the ball cap in greeting. Standing next to him was a
younger, thinner, version of himself. Just as tall as his
attractive father, the younger man was extremely good looking. His
eyes were laughing as he too smiled and nodded.
    "This is my boy, Kyle. We didn't mean to
startle you so early, Ma'am, but we seen that big old oak tree come
down in the ice storm and thought you might want it cleared
away."
    Confused, Diane dragged fingers through her
long curls. "Oh yeah, the tree," she stammered. "It blew over
yesterday morning after the storm, but I didn't call anyone
yet."
    "Your vehicle's stuck in the garage. Am I
right?" asked Kyle.
    She turned her stare to the younger Evans