Wait ’til Your Mother Gets Home!

Lex is upstairs asleep. Lorrie and Mel are curled up beside her. The tears have dried and all is right with the world. Lex didn’t mean to break down like that, but the children were so heartsick at causing the flooding that Lex couldn’t help herself. Soon, she was crying harder than they were. Talk about wrapped around her daughter’s fingers. Sheesh!

Lex had a successful business trip and arranged for the butchering and aging of the beef that we’ll supply to restaurants in the Austin and San Antonio areas. She’s really taken this ranch to new heights. Not to say that we are financially in the clear.

“We’ll be fine,” Lex said as she brushed her black hat against her jeans. “We just have to watch our spending for a while until we recoup our start-up expenses.”

“Um, how much ‘watch’ is ‘watch’?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Lex pulled me down onto her lap and gave me a kiss. Did I say I love my wife? Oh yeah!

“We have enough for our normal expenses and some money set aside for improvements and repairs.” She nuzzled my neck until I barely remembered that I was dreading telling her about the children flooding our ranch house.

“Uh, Lex?” Trying to keep my thoughts on track was getting to be impossible.

“Where are the girls?” Lex waggled her eyebrows suggestively and started pulling my shirt from my jeans.

“Shopping with Grandma and Grandpa. They decided to make barbecue tonight.”

“Good, why don’t we…”

I never did mention the floor to Lex. But as soon as our two little girls hit the front door, they were all over Lex, confessing everything, asking to have their allowances held until the floor was paid for, and asking if their mother still loved them.

By the time they got the whole story out, Lex was sobbing right along with them, distraught that her girls could think that they could ever do anything to make her stop loving them.

Well, they are asleep now. And I didn’t have to tell on Mel and Lorrie. I’d be with them, too, but at the moment, Mr. Edward Walters is in need of some strained peaches.

Gotta love ’em all.
Amanda.

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