Pickin Clover Read Online Free PDF Page A

hospital?” It seemed to Polly a logical place for meeting men.
    “Obstetrics isn’t exactly the best place to meet single guys. The patients are all female, remember,” Norah pointed out with a grimace. “And besides, it’s not very romantic to date someone who spends his entire working life examining vaginas. Who wants to date someone who knows more about your private parts than you do yourself?”
    Polly had to laugh. Norah could be funny sometimes. “Maybe you oughta try a younger version of those dances Mom goes to. She never seems to have any shortage of guys hanging around.” Polly’s tone was acerbic.
    “I guess I missed out on whatever genes Mom has that makes her irresistible to men.” Norah concentrated on her salad. “And at her age, it’s innocent, there’s probably no sex involved. I read a report in a medical journal that said about seventy percent of men over the age of sixty are impotent for one reason or another.”
    “Impotent I couldn’t care less about,” Polly said. “There's always Viagra. It’s just too bad none of them are clean freaks who’d tidy up that yard of hers.”
    Norah gave her a pained look, and Polly held up her hands, palms out, and said, “Sorry, sorry, not another word about Mom’s place, I promise.”
    It was an easy vow to keep, because the waiters arrived just then with the chocolate layer cake Polly had special ordered when she’d made their reservation.
    Candles ablaze on the cake, the staff grouped around the table and sang “Happy Birthday,” and although Norah was embarrassed by the attention they attracted from the other patrons, Polly sensed that her sister was pleased.
    They ate slabs of cake with ice cream, and it was after three by the time Polly waved a cheery goodbye to Norah outside the restaurant. There was a parking violation tucked under the windshield wiper of her car. Unperturbed, Polly extracted it and shoved it in the glove compartment, along with the other two she’d recently accumulated. She must remember to give them to Michael. His business manager, Raymond Stokes, took care of such things.
    Before she started the car Polly sat for a moment, deliberating over where to go for the rest of the afternoon. She extracted her cell phone from her handbag and dialed home for messages.
    Modern Accents had called, saying the china she’d special ordered had arrived; this pleased her. Next there were several hang-ups, and several messages asking that Michael call his bank manager, which Polly ignored. Then the machine beeped again, and her mother’s loud, irritated voice came on the line.
    “Polly, you know how I hate talking on these things...you’re never home anymore. Anyway, I’m calling because I want you and Michael to come to supper tonight. It’s Norah’s birthday, you know. Come at five. I like to eat early. And call me so I know you heard this, okay?”
    Polly’s mouth thinned with anger and exasperation and she drummed her manicured fingers on the steering wheel. So Isabelle had decided at the last minute that she’d invite them, had she? And trust her mother to just assume they didn’t have a thing to do except race over there, slavering with delight.
    Well, Isabelle could just think again. Polly turned the key and the motor roared to life. Michael was in Seattle, and she was going to pretend she hadn’t gotten the message in time. She’d already celebrated Norah’s birthday; she wouldn’t be letting her sister down.
    To hell with Isabelle.
    Darting from lane to lane in the heavy afternoon traffic, Polly headed over to Pacific Center to pick up the china. Then, she decided, she’d go and sit in a quiet cafe somewhere and drink Perrier water and limejuice for an hour or so. By the time she got home her mother’s invitation would be ancient history.
     
    It was late afternoon when Michael parked in the circular driveway in front of the house; he’d be leaving again in a few moments so there was no point putting the car