Read Online Almost Like Being in Love by Beth K. Vogt - Free Book Online

savings on the down payment.
    â€œIt’s only a diagnostic charge today.” He’d charge her the standard rate minus 10 percent. Good thing this hadn’t happened during the holiday weekend when he’d have to charge extra for an emergency call, as well as overtime. “You can call again if there’s a problem.”
    â€œI hope not. It’s barely the beginning of June and the temps and humidity are crazy high. I need my air-conditioning. Scotty can’t sleep without it.”
    Ah. No husband—but a boyfriend who couldn’t sleep without the air-conditioning on. “I hear that a lot.”
    â€œI imagine you keep pretty busy.”
    â€œGot that right.” He drained the cup of water, handing it back to her. “Thanks. I’ll write up your bill and be on my way.”
    â€œSaving the day at someone else’s house?”
    He chuckled. Right. He was a real superhero. “Just repairing air conditioners.”
    His work boots tapped a soft staccato on the sidewalk leading from the front door to his work van, the words EMERALD COAST AIR-CONDITIONING AND HEATING printed across the side in blue block letters. When his phone buzzed on his hip, a quick glance showed that it was his father.
    â€œWhat’s up, Dad?” Alex slipped into the van, turning it on and starting up the A/C, welcoming the blast of cool air.
    â€œMrs. Carlson called, wondering where you are.”
    â€œJust finished the job before her. Can you call her back and let her know I’m on my way?”
    â€œSure.”
    There was silence on the other end of the phone. Why wasn’t his father hanging up, letting him get back to work?
    â€œYou need something else?”
    â€œHave you talked to you mother today?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t see her before I left the house, but I left early. Had to take Caron to the airport.” Alex tossed his cap onto the dash. “Mom seemed fine yesterday—and she did go to the Memorial Day barbecue with the Hollisters.”
    â€œBeing with the Hollisters helps. But she’s been having a tough time. You know.”
    â€œShe usually does this time of year.”
    â€œThis year seems worse, for some reason. There’s nothing really to say or do—just wait for it to pass. But could you check on her—maybe before the workday’s over?”
    â€œSure.” Resting his arm on the steering wheel, he mentally scrolled through his appointments. “I’ll run by home sometime today.”
    â€œThanks.”
    As his father hung up, Alex wrestled with the urge to call him back. To continue the conversation. To say things he’d wanted to say for years, unspoken words that caused him to clench his jaw, his fingers tightening around his cell phone.
    No. I’m not checking on Mom.
    I don’t want to do this anymore.
    But so many years of being the good son—the only son—who accepted responsibility without complaint had taught him well. There was no sense in putting up a fight. Against who? His parents? A ghost?
    He’d do what needed to be done. Keep the peace, such as it was.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    The house was quiet, the curtains drawn so that no hint of sunlight filtered through. Alex shut the front door and unlaced his worn work boots, leaving them in the entryway. He tucked his cap in his back pocket.
    â€œMom? It’s Alex.”
    No reply.
    He balanced the white Styrofoam container in one hand, turning on the foyer light. It was that odd in-between time—too late for lunch, too early for dinner, but he’d stopped and picked up a chef’s salad for his mother. Just in case she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Or lunch.
    The living room was empty. Everything in its place. Neat and dusted, thanks to the maid service his father had decided it was worth paying to come in and clean once a week. Vacuum. Clean the bathrooms. Change the sheets. Make sure the dirty dishes were