"I told her you were honest, and I was satisfied with your work. And I'm sure you will be fair with her."
"Well, thanks for thinking of me, Betty. I can always use some extra work. What exactly does she need done?"
I heard shuffling on the phone, then a pause. "Here, let me put her on..."
"Hello?" a soft voice took over. "Hi, I'm Mrs. Atkins, Abby, Betty says you do handyman work?"
"Hi, yes, nothing electrical. Pretty much odd jobs. If I think it's too much for me, I'll tell you. I won't risk doing it wrong. What is it you need done?"
"Well, it's a few things. They laid new carpet, and now the doors are too tight." "I can handle that."
"Great! And then maybe I can show you other little things, pictures hung, a loose cabinet door. When can you do it?"
"I got nothing planned today, if you want."
I heard rustling again, and Betty was back. "Jake? She doesn't have the money right now, is that okay?"
"Betty, if she's a friend of yours, no problem, I trust her. Give me her address."
Which she did. Then she whispered, "You'll have to stop by soon, Jakie! I'll dress special for you. I miss you! You take good care of Amy for me, okay? She's as dear to me as you are."
I promised I would. A real firecracker at 65, she was a flash from a fifties Hollywood studio, still hot and still horny. Just thinking of her gave me a hardon.
An hour later, I rang the doorbell. A small white house, flowers everywhere, rocker on the porch, with a basket of knitting. This woman was most likely even older than Betty, and no way another 65 year old was gonna look that good!
The door opened, and behind the screen was Amy. Not only was she built like Betty, she was younger! By about two decades!
"You must be Jake. Please, come in." She held open the screen door and I moved past her, tool box in hand. I took off my Yankee cap right away, and the room was bright and sunny.
"Hi, Mrs. Atkins, I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
"Oh, no, not at all. I was surprised when you said you could come so soon. I'm expecting a check, but I won't be getting it until next week. I hope you don't mind... I hate to be owing."
Only now did I realize she was black. Her hair was straightened and blond, obviously from a bottle. Her big eyes were light brown, unusual for women or men of color. The features most associate with blacks were muted if not non-existent. A striking woman, and I had no idea her age now.
She seemed to feel me staring, and led the way into her bedroom, keeping the conversation going. "Betty speaks very highly of you. I've known her for a number of years at the gym."
I smiled. "It doesn't surprise me that she goes to a gym. She's in amazing shape for her age, whatever that may be."
"You don't know? She'll proudly tell you, seventyone last month, and she still gets looks in her leotards, believe me!"
"Wow, I didn't know she was that old!"
"Maybe I shouldn't have told you. I wouldn't want it to affect your relationship."
"Rela... Oh, there's not... I mean..."