The Husband Sweepstake. Leigh Michaels

guided her out onto the street. “No place where anyone knows you, that’s sure. Which leaves the open-air hot dog stands and the bars.”

      “I’ll take a hot dog stand. So it’s the women who are calling for help? I can’t say I’m surprised. What have you been doing for them?”

      He sighed. “Shifting furniture. Plugging a new computer together. Getting boxes down off high shelves.”

      “That’s a good one,” Erika said. “It shows off your muscles. I did warn you, if you remember, that the residents would keep you busy.”

      “Once the news wears off, it’ll settle down.”

      She thought he sounded more hopeful than convinced.

      The nearest hot dog stand was across the street from a tiny park. Erika put mustard on her sandwich and led the way to a bench in the sun. The wooden slats felt warm even through her trench coat.

      “So what did you want to talk to me about?” Amos asked.

      “You remember that plan we were talking about the other day? I’ve decided to go through with it.”

      He looked wary. “Why are you telling me?”

      “Good manners. You said you wanted to know what I decided. Also…” She let the silence drag out. “Also because I think you’re the perfect candidate.”

      Amos went so still that for a moment she thought she was sitting next to a statue. “Oh, no. You’re not dragging me into this stunt.”

      “I have no intention of dragging you. You said yourself that it’s a matter of proper incentives. Or, to make it perfectly clear-cut, bribes. So let’s talk about it, Amos darling. What will it take to buy you?”

      He didn’t answer.

      “Forty-five years to write a book,” Erika mused. “I think maybe there’s a way to cut that down. If, of course, you’re interested in talking about it.”