Читать книгу Bad Dad - Alice Shane - Страница 9

Lester’s face was expressionless when she finally told him about the call from Mary Lou. Under the pressure of harboring a secret that had become a burden, Margo managed to summon the courage to mention it a week later.

Without a word, without inquiring why she delayed telling him about it, he rose from his brown leather chair in the library and stormed upstairs to their bedroom, slamming the door shut.

What was he thinking, she wondered? Was he angry that she didn’t tell him right away? Was he trying to come to terms with Gloria’s death? Was he still outraged over Danny’s failures? Or piqued that Mary Lou had made the call and not Danny?

The telephone call and its implications were even more complex than she anticipated. All these questions! One call and her life was about to be transformed into hell!

She knocked on the bedroom door, but Lester did not respond. She knocked again and opened the door. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“When did Miss White Trash call?” he finally asked without looking at her.

“I told you – about a week ago. I suppose I should have mentioned it right away, but it took some time for me to get it handled, ” she confessed, wondering if she should apologize. But what was there to apologize for? She was being honest, transparent. What did he want from her?

Lester was staring at her now. She was pretty, girlish, he observed, her dark hair combed back in a pony tail. Margo was beautiful in a subtle, refined way. Slim. Elegant. She looked upset, vulnerable at this moment.

“You should have told me immediately,” he admonished, his enunciation clipped, edgy.

“I know what I should have done,” Margo said, her voice descending to a whisper. She wanted to avoid an argument. She wasn’t ready to deal with this issue, so there was no point going to battle. She needed time to think things through, to avoid saying stupid or hurtful things.

“Then why didn’t you?” he asked, his voice thick with suspicion.

Lester was beginning to frighten her. He normally didn’t address her so sternly, with such coldness. subjecting her to the third degree. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have the words to explain her decision without exposing her insecurities, her fears, her dread of these intruders barging into their lives.

“Because I didn’t, that’s all,” Margo said. “Is there anything else you want to know?” She didn’t like the sound of her own voice which had hardened. She really wanted to appear calm, cool, dispassionate. Certainly, not tough.

“Where’s the phone number? I’ll have to call down there, find out what’s going on.”

“I’ll look for it. It’s somewhere on my desk,” she said, without intending to give it to him. She was not going to cooperate. She would not collude in a situation that could damage their marriage, she decided, a surge of hatred settling in her chest, constricting her breathing. Who was it she hated? Lester? Yes, of course, he was despicable. A telephone call from the wife of his long-lost son and he was already turning on her like a snake.

“Forget about it – I’ll call information,” Lester said angrily, his face crimson as he rose from the bed, the satin floral bedspread in disarray from his body mass. “Don’t ever do that again – withhold important information from me, do you understand?” he said coldly.

Margo left the room without responding, dismayed at Lester’s reaction. This was a side of him she had not seen before. She went into her office and closed the door, hoping to concentrate on a magazine article she had been writing. She could hear him moving around, descending the stairway. She assumed he had gone into the library to call his son.