Driven To Distraction: Driven To Distraction / Winging It. Candy Halliday

even pretending to work out. “We need to approach Barrett logically, since he is, after all, a logical man.”

      “There’s a perfect woman among us for him.”

      “Someone we’re all overlooking.”

      That got Stacy’s attention. And since no one else was working out, she dropped her weights to the floor.

      “Down to earth, that’s what she needs to be,” Arlene said. “No woman on a permanent flight of fancy.”

      “Definitely. But she should have a sense of humor.”

      “And she should be compassionate,” another woman added. “The kind of woman who puts others before herself.”

      Nita said, “But who knows how to have a good time.”

      They all agreed on that one. Stacy was beginning to get a warm feeling inside.

      “She should be cute,” someone else said. “Not gorgeous, not a woman who gets caught up in her appearance. A scientific man isn’t going to understand why she’d spend an hour making up her face.”

      Stacy glanced in the mirror. Well, that was her, cute, definitely not gorgeous and not a woman who spent a lot of time in front of a mirror. That was evident. Granny taught her the practical things in life—using Spam to polish the furniture, using the bathroom before leaving the house and carrying a sweater just in case it was chilly where you were going. Makeup, hairstyling…Granny had been too simple to care about that kind of thing.

      “And a woman who needs a man in her life. Someone who’s aching with loneliness, who needs affection and love…”

      Stacy cleared her throat. “What about me?”

      “Good one, Stacy! Like you’d be interested in some smarty-pants like that,” Nita said.

      “Can you imagine the two of them?” Arlene said, shaking her head.

      They must have imagined, because they all giggled. Stacy glanced at the mirror again to see if she’d missed something. Warts on her nose, for instance. A hunched back. Nope, just the cute-but-not-gorgeous gal that always looked back at her.

      Arlene said, “Stacy, you have us.”

      Betty said, “You’ve got a full life, just like your granny did. She didn’t need a man.”

      Nita said, “You can babble on all you want, but the right woman for that man is here in this room.” She smiled. “Me.”

      “Or the right woman for Ricky,” Betty said, nodding toward the wall of windows where Ricky the maintenance dude made his usual obvious attempt at not appearing as though he were watching them work out. That strip of decking between the windows and the pool was the cleanest few feet of concrete in the whole community. Stacy couldn’t understand why with his beefy, blond good looks he was so annoyingly desperate.

      He wiggled his eyebrows at Stacy and patted his stomach. She shook her head and hoped no one had seen it. No way did she want these folks to know what she was up to until the deal was done. Till it was too late for them to tell her what a selfish, un-Granny-like thing that was to do.

      “Too young,” Nita said with a dismissing wave. “No staying power. He’s like a small town—blink and you’ll miss it.”

      A rousing polka filled the room after the laughter subsided. Still, no one moved. Pink and purple dumbbells had been forgotten on the carpet.

      “What we need is a game plan,” Arlene said.

      Frieda said, “Gene’s son Marty has worked with Barrett on a couple of projects. Says he’s a real good guy. Honest. Hardworking. Got his smarts from his father. Barrett’s mom has average intelligence, and that’s why the marriage didn’t work out. No connection, no communication. They got bored with each other.”

      “Ah, so he needs a smart woman,” Betty said. “Good thing my Denise is smart. She was in all those advanced classes in high school, you know.”

      “We know,” Arlene said with a roll of her eyes.

      “Why don’t you just leave the poor man alone?” Stacy said, picking up her weights in a lame attempt to jump-start the workout session. “He has an important project he’s got to finish in less than a week.”

      “That’s all the time he has?” Arlene asked.

      Finally, some understanding. “Yes, he’s down to the wire and he’s never late. He needs some peace and quiet, not a date.”

      “We’re running out of time, girls,” Betty said, clapping her hands. “We have mere days to snare him.”

      “What about that game plan?”

      “Arlene, you’ve already sent your niece over,” Nita said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror and fluffing her Lucille Ball red hair. “It’s my turn next.”

      Arlene accused, “Tanya said you’d already bagged him, which isn’t true at all, is it?”

      Betty raised her hand. “I was the second one to bring him a casserole, so Denise is next!”

      Frieda made a snorting sound. “I brought him the first casserole, so I get next dibs on him.”

      “But Breanna’s already married!” Betty objected.

      “So? He’s a loser. Do you know what the man does for a living?”

      In unison, they all answered, “Nothing.”

      “And he beats her all the time,” Frieda added.

      “At poker!” Stacy interjected. “That’s different.”

      Frieda sniffed. “Is not. She’s into hock to him for thousands. He keeps a tab going.”

      “Well, I guess we’re not going to agree on who the best woman is for this man,” Nita said. “So it’s going to be a free-for-all.”

      As they all stormed toward the door, Stacy yelled, “He’s gay! Really, he’s gay!”

      The only person who heard her was Ricky, who was standing in the doorway with a perplexed look on his face.

      “YOU HAVE a big problem,” Stacy announced when Barrett opened the door.

      As if in response, a hank of his blond hair fell over his forehead. He pushed it back and stepped aside to let her in. “I do?” She was wearing white leggings and a red tank top that revealed an interesting slice of flesh at abdomen level.

      Weasel Boy walked in with her and strained at his leash to get to Barrett. After he made some choking sounds, Stacy let go of the leash. He made a beeline to Barrett.

      Her nose wrinkled. “What is that smell?”

      He referenced the index card with heating instructions on it. “The Tater Tot casserole.”

      “I remember it. Ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, onion-flavored Tater Tots, all thrown in a dish and topped with cheese. Grossville. It was a good side benefit of the canned-food party, no casseroles.”

      Barrett realized he was paying way too much attention to her mouth and shifted his gaze to her eyes. Chocolate syrup eyes. He loved chocolate syrup. “Canned-food party?”

      Stacy sauntered into the kitchen and opened the oven door. She quickly closed it with a grimace. “We’re having one this Saturday at lunch. Granny started the monthly potluck parties to foster community spirit. So, do you want to know why you’re in trouble or not?”

      He could think of a few reasons, like his preoccupation with her mouth and her spandex. “Maybe you’d better tell me.”

      “The women around here seem to think you need a lady in your life.”

      He surveyed her, from the way the tip of her ear peeked out of her brown hair down the skintight workout outfit and her sneakers