The M Word Read Online Free PDF Page A

English is very good,”
she said. “Did you study it in Poland?”
    “Yes, for many years.”
    She wanted to ask about his visa, but didn’t
dare. How soon was his time running out?
    She suddenly realized that she hadn’t offered
him anything to eat or drink. Her southern mother would be appalled
by her lack of hospitality. She stood and brushed her hands on her
skirt. “Would you like something to drink?”
    “Yes, thank you. I’d like a glass of water.
No ice.”
    She filled a glass with chilled water from
her refrigerator door.
    He picked up the glass, then set it down, on
a piece of paper so it wouldn’t leave a ring on her hardwood
floors. He was a careful man, she thought, but she was surprised he
didn’t drink it. He saw her look, and explained, “I'm waiting for
it to warm up. I don't drink anything cold.”
    Why not , she thought but didn't pry.
She said, “Are you hungry? I don't have much in my fridge, but I
have crackers and cheese ...”
    “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
    He worked for several minutes in silence.
Without looking at her, he asked, “Do you play the piano?”
    “I took lessons when I was younger. That’s
why my parents gave me the piano, but no, I don’t play often. Not
like I should.”
    “Music should be a joy, not an
obligation.”
    She smiled. She’d bet he was a good salesman
at his family’s store.
    “Do you have other hobbies?”
    Hobbies? That stumped her. She worked long
hours at the bank, and after that, she usually spent time with
Steven, doing what he wanted -- exercising or watching a movie. She
searched her mind for what she liked to do by herself, for herself.
Occasionally she went somewhere with her girl friends, but not
often. “I like gardening. Plants.” As she said this, she saw that
the potted plant by the front door had shriveled and died. She
hoped he wouldn't notice.
    “What do you like to read?”
    It had been a long time since she'd read
anything but articles on the internet. “Travel books.
Mysteries.”
    “No romances?”
    She thought of the sack full of paperback
romances in her bedroom closet. Steven used to tease her about
them. These are what make women unhappy. They create unrealistic
expectations.
    “No, no romances,” she said coolly. Not any
more.
    “I like romances,” he said simply. “I like
stories that make me laugh and cry. Do you like opera?”
    She was startled by the jump in the
conversation. “I don't know much about it. I listen mostly to
Country Western.”
    “Ah, yes. Country Western can be good, simple
music. Heart felt music.” He smiled at her.
    His eyes were warm and kind as they looked at
her. He seemed a genuinely nice man, but he was still a man. Could
she trust him? Did she want to?
    He worked for a few more minutes, then put
the piano back together, replacing the front piece.
    “Are you done?” she asked.
    “Yes. I'll check it again in a few days to
see how well it has stabilized.” He held up his hands, forming a
horizontal line. “Right now, the strings are taut, but they'll sag
a little,” he dropped his hands slightly, “and lose a little
pitch.”
    “Is there anything else I need to do, like
replacing the felts?”
    “No, you have a very good spinet, in good
condition.”
    She stood again. “I’ll get my purse. I forgot
to ask you how much you charge.”
    “No charge.”
    She must have misheard him. “I beg your
pardon?”
    “No charge.”
    “No, I insist,” she said as she pulled out
her checkbook. “You’ve provided a service and you should be paid.
How does two hundred dollars sound? Too little?”
    “No, you don’t understand. I am here in the
United States on a student visa. It is not legal for me to be paid
by anyone other than the University.”
    Brenda sensed very clearly that he was not
the kind of man to take money on the side. He was honest.
    She was flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell
me before?”
    He shrugged. “You needed your piano tuned. I
like tuning pianos, and I