Carol Martin:

After eating a fattening meal at Jay's, the two drove to Carol's apartment. When they came inside, Carol's cat, Fluffy, growled at them.

"Sweetheart," cried Carol, petting Fluffy. "What's wrong?" Obviously nothing was wrong, and Fluffy was just being pesky. Carol and Jerry sat themselves down on the couch and read magazines.

"You know honey," Jerry said suddenly, "We don't have to find a house, yet. Seeing as though if we did get married, we wouldn't have kids for at least a year, we could live in my house for a while. There are two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room and a study. We could manage with that."

"I suppose," said Carol reluctantly. "But what about John and Cecelia?" John and Cecelia were the couple who rented the attic of Jerry's home.

"Hey, they are moving on anyway. John got a job in Arizona. Cecelia is going to take care of her niece, Ruby."

Carol nodded her head. "Good then. I guess that'd work for a while. But I still want to talk to Mr. Brady."

"Fine with me sweetie." Replied Jerry.

The next day, Carol called into Mr. Brady's office again.

"Hello?" asked Minnie the receptionist.

"Hi, Minnie. This is Miss. Carol Martin, I was in the office yesterday asking about Mr. Brady. Is he at work today?"
"Well, I'm sorry ma'am, but he is not. He will be on his honeymoon until the nineteenth. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to schedule another appointment with Mr. Clayton?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Well okay. Is that all for today?"
"Yes. Thank you and bye."

Carol hung up the phone in frustration. Maybe he's not a good architect she thought. Hey, he wasn't going to be in town for a long time. She may as well try another architect. But in some small place in her heart she knew she must wait. He was going to be good – really good. Perfect in fact for their job.

So Carol just decided to wait. That morning after drinking some coffee she headed off to her part-time job as a library assistant at the local elementary school. At lunch, she discussed her issues with the librarian, Carrie. Carrie was a brunette that was plump and easily six-foot. She had thick round glasses and always smiled. She loved books more than she loved her husband. She was comical and her son was a graduate of Cornell. That was the most Carol knew about her, and yet she had a certain liking for Carrie. Carrie was just pleasing and funny.

Carrie said she should try her contractor, Homer Lowell. Although Carol had already objected to Mr. Lowell because of her friends other opinions.

"Thanks for the advice Carrie, but I already decided not to use Homer, I don't mean to offend you."

Carrie silently nodded her head. She didn't easily get offended.

"Well then, I don't think there is much else to do other than wait in your case Care."

That was another thing about Carrie. She always called people by a nickname. Carol was Care, her husband, Horace, was Mr. Hippo (because he was a little big as well), her son was named Patrick and they called him Patty the Smart Pig. The names weren't always a compliment, like her brother-in-law was called La-Cooka-Racha (which means cockroach).

So that was what Carol was going to do – wait.