Switching on the “Not in Service” sign, he accelerates past the rural bus stop, pretending he doesn’t see the woman waiting with the heavy carryall. She shrugs wearily.
Ain’t happening, lady. I’m tired and I’ve got — I’d better have — dinner waiting.
Moments later, bus parked, he barges through his front door, oblivious to the scent of fresh laundry and the porch cleared of toys.
“Where’s my beer? You’ve set the table. What gives?”
“Sweetie,” his wife coos, “I’ve hired a wonderful housekeeper. The kids love her. She's fast and inexpensive.
“She’ll be taking your bus. Be nice to her.”