Clayton's Made-Over Mrs.. Sandra Steffen

slammed the door so hard Clayt doubted his ears would ever be the same. He took to the steps like a man being chased by a demon. By the time he reached the bottom, he figured that was a pretty good description of the hothead upstairs. He was still sputtering when he stomped into the alley and headed for his truck.

      Confounded, contrary, ill-tempered, cantankerous woman.

      Mel McCully hadn’t changed. She hadn’t changed at all.

      

      “I’ve changed, haven’t I, Granddad?” Mel asked, handing a wet plate to Cletus.

      “Oh, I s’pose there have been a few…”

      Up to her elbows in soapy water, Mel pushed her hair away from her cheek with her shoulder and forged ahead in the middle of her grandfather’s reply. “I admit that I miss the convenience of my braid, but I don’t miss its weight or the way it looked. And what’s wrong with wearing a pretty dress once in my life? And there isn’t any law against using a little lipstick and mascara.”

      Accustomed as he was to these talk sessions, when Mel didn’t let him get a word in edgewise, Cletus simply nodded. Scrubbing another plate, Mel said, “Clayt thinks he knows who I am. He thinks he can barge into my place and ask me what I’m trying to prove. If he didn’t have such a thick skull he’d know I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to show him something.”

      “He got your dander up, did he?” Cletus asked.

      Mel shrugged one shoulder as she thought about a few of the things she’d said the night before last. For heaven’s sake, she’d practically called Clayt a pervert. Handing her grandfather another plate, she said, “I might have uttered a word or two I shouldn’t have.”

      Pursing his thin lips, Cletus said, “Oh-oh. What did you say?”

      “Well, I seem to recall mentioning that I wouldn’t marry an arrogant, muddleheaded ignoramus like him if he were the last man on earth.”

      Cletus shook his old head. “I thought you were going to hold your temper where Clayt’s concerned from now on.”

      Mel leaned on the old sink, suddenly tired. “It could take me the rest of my life to learn to hold on to my temper where Clayt is concerned. I wanted him to notice me, and I ended up making him mad just like I always do. I’m a pathetic, hopeless spinster who will be thirty in a few months. At this rate he’ll never notice me.”