Читать книгу In the Dog House - V.M. Burns - Страница 10

CHAPTER 2

I fully expected the crazy idea of moving to Tennessee would have faded in the bright light of a new day. However, the next morning I found myself even more excited than I was the previous night. In fact, when I sat down with coffee, I noticed a new e-mail had arrived. It was from Dixie. She was ecstatic to hear I was considering moving to Chattanooga. There were a lot of capital letters and exclamation marks, along with an entire row of happy face emoticons. She declared it fate that she was actually only a few hours away attending a Poodle Specialty, whatever that was, in Lansing, Michigan. She was going to be staying in the area for another week to attend an Obedience workshop and would drive down and maybe we could have lunch or dinner.

I promptly responded I would love to get together and sent my address, my cell phone number, and directions. I had plenty of room and invited her to stay here while she waited for the workshop. Message sent, I drank my coffee and tried to remember the last time I’d seen Dixie.

Later, I called Stephanie and told her what I wanted. Initially, she was unsure, but when I shared my plan to move someplace warm and sunny and start over, she thought it was a great idea. She told me to leave all of the legal arrangements to her, which I was happy to do.

I got dressed and started on my tasks. My next-door neighbor was an elderly retired police officer who suffered from dementia. Bradley Hurston had retired from the Chicago Police Department and moved to Lighthouse Dunes to stay with his sister after her husband died suddenly. Mr. Hurston had once been very active, coaching the boys’ baseball team and teaching self-defense classes to the women in our neighborhood. I still remembered his suggestion to S.I.N.G. if we were ever attacked. SING was the acronym he used to help us remember the four areas to attack—solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin. He was now confined to a wheelchair, where he spent his days looking out his front window with a pair of binoculars.

I got the lawn mower out of the garage and cut the grass. It had been a very wet spring, and now that summer had arrived, the grass was growing very rapidly. When I finished my yard, I cut Mr. Hurston’s grass, as well. His son usually cut his grass when he was in town or arranged for someone to do it, but he was a cop, too, and I knew he was often tired when he got home from work. Plus, he had a family and a yard of his own to mow. So, I’d made a habit of cutting Mr. Hurston’s yard whenever I cut mine. Besides, it was the least I could do for someone who’d been so committed to serving and protecting our community.

When I was done mowing, I edged both yards and swept up the grass clippings. The neighborhood association frowned on grass clippings left on the sidewalk. Three hours later, I was hot, sweaty, and covered in grass clippings, but both yards looked great.

The front door opened, and Marianne Carpenter, Mr. Hurston’s sister, smiled and beckoned me to come in.

Marianne Carpenter was a petite woman, barely five feet tall. She was probably in her mid-sixties but looked older. I suspected that was due to her hair, which was thinning but which she dyed a vibrant orange, along with an excessive amount of makeup, which highlighted rather than concealed every wrinkle. She was a timid woman who liked flashy clothes, large gawdy pieces of jewelry, and pink slippers. “You must be worn out. Come inside and have some lemonade.”

I was itchy from the grass clippings and suspected the odor that made its way to my nose every few seconds wasn’t something being carried by the wind, but was me. Nevertheless, I’d learned that declining Marianne’s offers was in poor taste. Her eyes filled with tears and she became offended. So, I made my usual half-hearted protests and went inside.

Bradley Hurston was seated in front of the living room picture window. He had always been a big man. Now he seemed small and shriveled up. His skin sagged, and the few hairs that remained stood out, making him look like a mad scientist.

“Hello, Mr. Hurston. How are you today?”

He gave me a glassy stare. “I saw you. I know what you did. I’ve got my eye on you.”

This was his standard greeting. He repeated those same words to everyone he met, repeatedly.

I nodded and followed Marianne to the kitchen. The layout of the house was a mirror image of my own, which always threw me off. My natural instinct was to turn left to go to the kitchen instead of right. After more than twenty years, I still veered to the left, bumped into the console table, and stubbed my toe. I went into the kitchen. Marianne was sitting at the circular wooden table with a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies.

“Have a seat and take a load off.” She smiled.

I sat and took a long drink. The lemonade was a mix, and it was so sweet I could feel my blood sugar rise. However, I was thirsty, so I chugged it down. Marianne Carpenter was the world’s worst cook. Her cookies were so hard I once used one as a wedge to level my kitchen chair. When she offered, I used my standard response, “Those look delicious, but I’m dieting.”

I wasn’t overweight. I’d describe myself as “big boned.” I was five feet four, one hundred fifty pounds, but compared to Marianne, I looked like the Jolly Green Giant. She was conscious of her figure and very conscientious of mine. She was extra-sensitive about everything else, but she understood dieting.

“Of course, dear, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Please forgive me. I’ve never had to watch my weight, but I do understand.” She patted my hand.

I plastered a fake smile on my face and dug my fingernails into my palm to prevent myself from flinging the glass of lemon-flavored sugar water at her.

“How are you holding up?” She leaned across the table and whispered with the look people wore to console family members at a funeral.

“I’m doing well. How are you?” I pretended I didn’t know she was referring to the fact that my husband had left me for a younger woman.

“Well, of course you’re fine.” She patted my hand again. “I’m praying for you two. In fact, when the pastor had altar call Sunday, I stood up and shared your situation with the congregation, and our pastor put your names on the prayer list at church.”

I dug my fingernails deeper and bit the inside of my cheek. “You did what?”

She smiled proudly, then hopped up and pulled a calendar off the refrigerator and brought it to the table. “Not only that, but I asked our prayer circle to keep you both on their prayer chain. There are people praying for you every hour of every day.” She looked at the sheet. “I’m scheduled from five to five thirty every morning.” She pointed her long, bony fingers at the time slot on the calendar.

I stared at the sheet until my eyes blurred and a vein throbbed on the side of my head. I stood up so quickly I nearly knocked over the chair. “Thank you for the lemonade, but I have to go.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” were the last words I heard as I rushed out the back door.

As I marched home, I told myself over and over again, “She meant well.” However, the idea of sharing my marital situation with the entire church in a small town like Lighthouse Dunes was the equivalent to posting an ad on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

It took the rest of the afternoon before I calmed down enough to step outside. However, I needed groceries, and unless I went to the store, I’d be forced to order pizza again and the delivery boy went to Marianne’s church. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Albert was the one who cheated. He was the one who had an affair. He was the one who had left me for a bleached-blond Barbie doll who was young enough to be his daughter. Nevertheless, I found myself looking askance at everyone I passed at the grocery store and the gas station.

When I got home, I was surprised to find a large RV parked in my driveway. I pulled up next to it, and the door opened and out jumped a tall, thin woman with big Dolly Parton hair, tight jeans, lots of jewelry, and holding a tiny black poodle.

“Lilly Anne, I know I should have called.” She hugged me, careful not to squash the poodle. “I was so excited to get your e-mail this morning, I hopped in my RV and hightailed it up here to see you.” She pulled back and looked at me. “I hope that’s okay?” she said in her sweet southern drawl.

I smiled and gave her another hug. “Of course it’s alright, Dixie. I’m really happy to see you too. Please, come inside.”

She handed me the dog. “You don’t mind I brought a few of my dogs along, do you?”

I juggled my grocery bags and held the little shivering fluff ball to my chest. “Of course I don’t mind. I love dogs, but I thought you had big poodles.”

She opened the side door to the RV and out pranced two large black poodles that appeared to be shaved closely in many places, but where their coats were longer, the hair was wrapped up as though they were getting a perm. They had bright-colored wrappers hanging from their ears, and the hair atop their heads was a conglomeration of scrunchies and rubber bands. On the ground, the dogs came to my waist. They were big and carried themselves regally, regardless of the ridiculous wrappers and bands. There was something in their bearing that proclaimed, I don’t care what you think of my appearance. You are beneath me.

“I do have standard poodles.” She placed a lead over one of the dog’s heads. “This is Champion Chyna, the Ninth Wonder of the World.”

I raised an eyebrow at hearing the name.

Dixie shrugged. “That’s what I get for letting my nephew and his fraternity brothers choose the name.” She patted the dog. “I just finished her at the specialty, so that made the win even more special.”

She scratched the dog behind the ear, and Chyna looked as though her eyes would roll back in her head. “That’s her registered name, but her call name is Chyna.” She put a lead around the other dog. “And this is Champion Galactic Imperial Resistance Leader, call name Leia.”

“Wow. That’s a mouthful.”

She smiled. “The registered name is just for shows. Breeders try to come up with unique names that will make a statement with the judges. The call name is what we actually call the dog.”

“I get it. So, Chyna and Leia?”

She nodded. “You got it.”

I held out the fluff ball in my arms. “And who is this?”

She smiled. “I have no idea. One of the breeders rescued her from a puppy mill. Her husband went bonkers when she came home with another dog, apparently fifteen was his limit. She asked if anyone would be willing to take her.”

“She looks awfully small.” I stared at the other poodles relieving themselves on the shrubs that separated my house from my neighbor’s. I cringed at what Bradley Hurston would say when he saw me again.

Dixie must have noticed my cringe, because she quickly grabbed the dogs’ leads. “I’m sorry. I forget not everyone is a dog lover.”

“No, it’s okay.”

She pulled bags out of her pocket and cleaned up the deposits and walked them around back to the garbage cans. When she came back, she opened the RV door to return the dogs, but I stopped her.

“You aren’t going to leave them outside, are you?”

She looked skeptical. “Well, I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“You’re not causing trouble. Bring them inside.”

She searched my face and then opened the door and called the dogs. They pranced out, and we all marched into the house.

“They’re very well-behaved. They’re both completely housebroken and, after an entire weekend of shows, they’re worn out and will eat and sleep for days.” She turned to me. “However, I’m not sure about the little one. She isn’t really a puppy. She’s probably about two years old, but I suspect she’s spent the majority of her short life locked in a crate, pushing out litter after litter.”

I frowned. “That’s horrible.”

“Unfortunately, not all breeders are responsible dog owners. For some, these cute little things are merely a commodity to be used to generate cash.” She scratched the dog’s head.

“So, if she’s two, then she’s fully grown?”

Dixie nodded. “She’s a toy poodle. Poodles come in three sizes: toy, miniature and standard.” She scratched the small fluff ball behind the ear. “This is a toy. Toys are the smallest and shouldn’t be more than ten inches from the withers.”

“The withers?” I asked.

She smiled. “From the shoulder to the ground. Dogs between ten and seventeen inches are miniatures. Anything over seventeen inches is a standard.” She pointed to the other two dogs, which had eaten a large bowl of dog food and were now lying on the floor fast asleep. “Those are standards.”

“Is that the only difference between the three?”

Dixie nodded. “Yes. The breed standard or the guidelines are the same for all three. The only difference is the size. Some other breeds are differentiated by color or coat, but for poodles, it’s the size.”

“So, what are you going to do with her? It is a her, isn’t it?” I held her up and looked underneath.

She nodded. “Yep. It’s a female, and I’m looking for a good home for her.” She narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “You wouldn’t know anyone who is looking for a companion, by any chance?”

At that moment, the fluff ball sighed and laid her head on my shoulder. From that moment on, I knew this was my dog.

We spent the rest of the night talking and thinking up names for the new addition to my family. Dixie suggested I name her something that had meaning to me. I had always been a big mystery fan, so I settled on a registered name of Queen of the Cozy, call name Agatha. Although I intended to call her Aggie.

* * * *

The next morning, I woke up to barking, screaming, growling, and a few whimpers. I rushed downstairs and found Albert backed up against the front door. The whimpers were coming from him. The two standard poodles, which had seemed so docile and a bit ridiculous with their colored hair wrappings and ridiculous cuts, were lunging toward him with teeth bared. They emitted a rumbling growl that sounded ferocious. The barking came from Aggie, who had a hold on Albert’s pants leg and was shaking it with all her might, as though she was going to rip him to shreds if he dared move.

Dixie had the standards’ collars and was straining to keep them from taking Albert out and yelling at him to stop moving and stay still.

“What’s going on here?” I hurried to Dixie’s side.

“This lunatic just waltzed in the house, unannounced, and Chyna and Leia were protecting their territory.”

“Their territory? This is my house!” Albert’s voice had a bit of a tremor, but his eyes looked terrified. “Those ferocious beasts should be put down. They’re dangerous.”

“Keep talking like that, buttercup, and I might just lose my grip on their collars.” Dixie relaxed her grip on Chyna, and she lunged to within inches of Albert, who tried to climb the wall.

I bent down and picked up Aggie. “Actually, you have no right to just waltz in here unannounced. You lost that right when you decided to move out.”

Albert looked as though he wanted to argue, but with three dogs and two angry women glaring at him, he smartly kept his mouth shut.

“You want me to call the police or just let the poodles finish him off?” Dixie asked.

I thought about it for a moment and then decided he wasn’t worth it. “We’d better not. I like these dogs too much and wouldn’t want them to get sick eating rancid human flesh.”

Albert scowled at me, and I held out Aggie, who barked and would have leapt out of my arms to attack him if I hadn’t tightened my grip.

Albert held up his hands in surrender and whined, “Okay. Call off the attack.”

Dixie looked at me for confirmation. Then she said. “Platz.”

Both big dogs immediately stopped growling and lunging and lay down quietly. Despite their nonthreatening postures, they continued to stare at Albert.

Dixie connected the dogs’ leashes and stood with her arms folded across her chest.

“Well?” I stroked my scrappy little ankle-biter and joined the staring contingency.

Albert looked wary. His gaze darted back and forth from Chyna to Leia and then to Dixie and me.

“What do you want, Albert?”

“I came by to remind you about the party?”

I frowned. “What party?”

“I knew you’d forget.” He took a step forward.

Chyna and Leia remained in their sphinx-like positions, but their lips curled and both began a low, rumbling growl, which caused Albert to freeze, foot in midair. He looked at me helplessly.

I turned to Dixie. “Maybe you should take the dogs outside.”

Dixie never turned her head or broke her stare. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She picked up the leashes. “Fuss.” Which sounded like Foos.

The dogs stood up by her side.

Albert stepped aside and she opened the front door and they headed outside.

Before she left, she turned, walked over to Albert. and said in a low, steady voice, “I have a gun and I can shoot the hind legs off a possum in the dark at six hundred feet. So, you better watch yourself.” She turned to me. “Holler if you need me.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing and nodded.

When she and the large poodles were gone, Albert breathed a sigh of relief. “That woman is crazy. She should be locked up, along with those vicious beasts she calls dogs.”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“I told you. I came to remind you about the party. Clearly, you’ve forgotten.” He rolled his eyes and gave a snide smile as if to say, You poor little fool.

In the past, I would have felt guilty for forgetting whatever it was I was being accused of forgetting and apologized. However, today I felt empowered. I held out Aggie, like Captain Kirk used the Tribbles to uncover the Klingon on Star Trek, and she didn’t disappoint. She barked and snapped, and Albert backed up and removed the smug, self-satisfied look from his face.

I pulled her back to my chest. “What party?”

“Tonight’s my grandmother’s ninety-fifth birthday. We’re hosting the party, remember?” He looked around the room. “Clearly, you forgot. There’s not even one decoration up. No balloons. Did you even cook?”

“You have got to be kidding me. Did you forget? You walked out. That’s not my grandmother. Why would you even think I’d host a birthday party for someone”—I held up a finger—“someone who isn’t related to me, someone I don’t like, and someone who can’t stand me?” I stared into his blank eyes.

He stared and then blinked. “So, you’re not planning to cook?”

“Ugh!” I marched into the kitchen. If I didn’t get away from him, I might be tempted to take Dixie’s gun and shoot him myself.

After a few moments, he followed me into the kitchen.

“If you have any sense of self-preservation, you’ll go away and not talk to me until I’ve had some coffee.” I filled the water basin on the fancy individual-cup coffeemaker Albert had given me for our last anniversary. At the time, I was so angry that he felt a coffeemaker was the perfect gift to give to a woman who rarely drank coffee, for a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present. However, after he walked out, I found myself drinking more coffee and wine than I had in the past twenty-five years. So, I got it out of the box. Now, every time I made coffee, it reminded me what an insensitive louse I married.

Albert watched me make coffee. When it was done, I sat down and drank the entire cup, got up, and made another. At one point, he looked as though he was going to speak, but one look into my eyes and he quickly closed his mouth and remained silent.

By the time I’d downed my second cup of coffee, my nerves were less frazzled and I was able to formulate sentences that didn’t question his parents’ marital status when he was born.

“I can only assume, by your presence here, you haven’t told your family we’re getting divorced, nor have you bothered to cancel the birthday party for tonight.”

He looked as though he was going to smirk, and I picked Aggie up and held her where he could see her. He promptly readjusted his countenance to a neutral state. He sighed. “No, I haven’t told my family about the divorce. I thought we could tell them later.”

I looked at my soon-to-be ex-husband, seeing him, perhaps for the first time, as the cowardly weasel that he was.

“We could tell them later? Why should we tell them anything? They aren’t my family. They’re your family. You should tell them yourself.”

He looked startled. “But everyone is expecting us to have the party here, like always.”

“Maybe you should let Bimbo host the party for you.”

He sighed. “It’s Bambi, and she’s never hosted a party before. Plus, my family doesn’t know about her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Pleeease. I need your help. This will be the last time.”

“What’s in it for me?”

He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“What’s-in-it-for-me?” I moved my hands as if I were using sign language.

Albert merely stared.

I sighed. “Look, I’ll host your party tonight, but it’s going to cost you.”

“How much?”

“First, you return your key. You do not enter this house without permission until the day when it is transferred over to you and I move out.” I waited.

He nodded.

I held out my hand.

He looked for two seconds as though he wasn’t going to give me the key.

“I can always have the locks changed.”

He reached in his pocket and handed me his key.

“Second, you will return my access to our joint bank account.” I squinted. “And don’t even think about withdrawing the money from that account, because I was a CPA and I know how much should be in it.”

He reluctantly nodded.

I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

“Now?”

I nodded.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the bank.

“And put it on speaker.”

He glared but pressed the speaker button. When he finished, he ended the call and stared at me like a dog awaiting praise. He’d be waiting a long time.

“Thirdly, you agree to keep the children as your beneficiaries. You will NOT attempt to cut them out of their inheritance, even if you decide to marry that empty-headed nitwit.”

He frowned and stared at me so long I thought this would be the deal breaker, but he eventually agreed and nodded his consent to my terms.

“Good. Now you can go. I’ll take care of everything.”

He stuttered, but eventually shrugged, turned, and walked out.

After he left, Dixie and the poodles returned. “Is everything okay?”

I nodded. “Yes, but we have a party to plan.”

Dixie looked as though she thought I’d lost my mind.

“It’s Stephanie’s bisnonna’s birthday.”

“What the heck is a bisnonna?”

I smiled. “It’s Italian for great-grandmother. Nonna is grandmother, and bisnonna is great-grandmother.”

We left the poodles in the RV and went to the store. Under normal circumstances, I would have spent all day slaving over a hot stove to make a home-cooked meal for Albert and his family. However, these weren’t normal circumstances, and time wasn’t on my side.

I picked up the telephone and ordered food from my favorite Italian restaurant, Café Roma’s. Lasagna, chicken parmesan, Caesar salad, and garlic bread for a small army would be ready for pickup in three hours. I called Mama Adamo’s Bakery and had a large sheet cake with strawberry filling and Happy Birthday, Nonna written on top. I went to the deli and got fruit trays, vegetable trays, wieners, and dip, and my last trip was to the liquor store for several nice bottles of wine and a few nonalcoholic beverages for the children. By the time we finished shopping and got home, we had just enough time to get everything set up and ready to go before the guests arrived.

Stephanie took the train home and arrived just before the first guest. She served as hostess, while I ran upstairs to shower and dress, and Dixie grabbed her toiletries from the RV and got prettied up.

When I had showered and refreshed, I came down to the party. I grabbed a glass of wine from a tray near the living room and took a sip as I looked around. The majority of those present were Albert’s relatives. I was an only child, and my parents were both dead, so my family tree was pretty barren. Albert was one of three children. His parents were good Italian Catholics and had tried to do their part to procreate and replenish the earth, but his mother had been forced to stop after three children. At least that was what she said to me when I told her I had no intention of having more than two children after David was born.

Albert’s mother, Camilia Conti, was a petite woman with unnaturally black hair. She had fallen in love with Albert’s father, Darren Echosby, an American in the military, after World War II. He died mysteriously not long after they were married and was seldom spoken about. Her current husband, Lorenzo Conti, was a small, quiet man who seldom spoke but made up for it in drinking and smoking.

Dixie and Stephanie spotted me leaning against the wall and came and stood on either side of me. Stephanie put her arm around my waist and leaned close. “Mom, I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but…”

She inclined her head slightly to a corner of the room.

I followed the direction of her head and nearly choked when I saw the bimbo, dressed in a skintight, body-hugging dress that left nothing to the imagination, wrapped around Albert. I nearly dropped my glass and came very close to letting out a shriek and lunging for her. Had it not been for Dixie and Stephanie, I might have embarrassed myself by throttling the hussy in front of a room full of people.

“He brought that…floozy into our house?”

Dixie and Stephanie continued to whisper in my ear, all the while using their bodies to restrain me from murder.

“Honey, I know you have to be furious, but now is not the time to show it. That’s what he wants you to do.”

I downed the glass of wine my daughter handed me in one large gulp. Part of me wanted to cry, while another part wanted to beat the living daylights out of Albert and his tart, but I knew Stephanie and Dixie were right. Now wasn’t the time. Instead, I took a deep breath, held it for as long as I could, and released it. I tried to remember the breathing exercises from Lamaze decades ago, but frankly, the deep breathing hadn’t worked to distract me from the pain back then, and it wasn’t working now.

“I’m okay.”

I tried to put on a fake smile, but it must have come across as more of a grimace, because neither Dixie nor Stephanie looked convinced.

“Mom, there’s more.”

I tried to wrap my head around the idea of what could be worse than my husband bringing his girlfriend into the home where we had raised our children in the middle of a gathering of his relatives. “Am I dying?”

“No, but—” Dixie never got to finish that sentence, because my mother-in-law walked up.

“I always had a feeling something was a bit off with you.” She shrugged. “When Alberto first told me, it took me a minute to adjust, but I say live and let live.” She grabbed me by the shoulders, pulled me close, and kissed me on each cheek. “Love is love, right?”

I stood ramrod-straight in a state of shock. Albert and I had been married for more than twenty-five years, and this was only the third time my mother-in-law, a normally very demonstrative woman, had hugged me. The other two times were at the births of each of my children.

When the shock wore off, I was dazed. “What just happened?”

“That’s what I was getting ready to tell you,” Dixie whispered.

I waited, but her courage must have failed. She looked at Stephanie. “Maybe you should tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Stephanie grabbed another glass of wine and handed it to me. Then she took a deep breath. “Apparently Dad told everyone the reason you two are getting divorced is because you’re a lesbian.”

I stared at Stephanie and then Dixie.

“Don’t look at me. Apparently, I’m your ‘partner’.” Her lips twitched, and I could tell by the way her eyes twinkled she was a few seconds away from bursting out in laughter.

“Excuse me.” I waltzed around the large crowd of in-laws, neighbors, and friends, and cornered Albert. “Could I see you in the other room?” I didn’t wait for his reply, but turned and walked out of the room, marched upstairs to the master bedroom, and waited. A few moments later, Albert came in behind me, and I slammed the door. “Can you please explain to me why your mother thinks I’m a lesbian?”

A flush of red went up his neck. “You told me I had to tell my family about the divorce.”

I stared at him, waiting to hear how he planned to connect the dots to explain how his leaving me for another woman translated into me being gay.

He pulled at the neck of his shirt. “Well, I had to come up with a reason, and this seemed like a good way to explain things.” He hemmed and hawed and stuttered. “I mean, what difference does it make to you what my family thinks? You weren’t planning on seeing them again. Plus, you’re the one who’s all equal rights for everyone.” He used air quotes. “I don’t see why you’re so upset.”

I hadn’t realized my mouth was open until I got a look at myself in the bureau mirror. “Do you really not get why I’m upset?” I took several deep breaths. “I’m not gay.”

“So?” He sat down on the bed. “I don’t get why it matters.”

“It matters because you’re not taking ownership for your adulterous relationship, and instead you’re shifting blame for the dissolution of our marriage onto me. This is not about equality or gay rights, which, by the way, I support. This is about you not being man enough to tell your mother the truth. You cheated on me with that skinny bimbo. You broke your marriage vows. And you are shifting the responsibility for the divorce onto me.” I was practically screaming.

“Shush. Keep your voice down.”

“I will not be shushed in my own house.” I picked up a bottle of perfume on the bureau and flung it as hard as I could at Albert’s head. Unfortunately, he ducked and the bottle hit the wall and shattered.

“You’re crazy. You could have killed me.”

“You’re right. I am crazy.” There was a line of perfume bottles, jewelry boxes, and other objects atop the bureau, and I picked up each one and flung it at Albert, who was now standing against the bedroom wall, dodging flying objects. “I was crazy to have married you. I was crazy to have stayed married to you for twenty-five years. I was crazy to have believed you when you said you were working late at the office all of those nights.” I flung the last object, which missed Albert but went flying through the window.

The bedroom door opened, and Stephanie and Dixie rushed inside.

“Mom, are you okay?”

The anger that had fueled my screaming, object-flinging tirade was spent, and I suddenly felt tired. I slumped down onto the bed. “Get out.”

Albert didn’t budge. He looked at me and then looked at Dixie. “This is all your fault. She was perfectly fine until you came up here with your killer poodles and your guns and started putting ideas in her head.”

“Why, you lily-livered, bald-faced, two-timing sleazeball. I have half a mind to—”

We never found out what Dixie had half a mind to do, because, at that moment, the bimbo walked in.

“Al, are you going to be much longer? There’s a weird man downstairs in a wheelchair who’s giving me the creeps.”

“That’s Mr. Hurston. He lives next door,” Stephanie said. “He doesn’t get out much, so we always invite him over whenever we have parties.” She looked from Bambi to me. “Why am I explaining this to her?”

Bambi walked into the bedroom and frowned at the smell from all of the broken perfume bottles. “We’re going to have to redecorate. I hate all this. It looks like old people furniture. We’re going to need new carpet in this room.”

Stephanie looked as though she wanted to strangle Bambi, but I held up a hand to stop her.

“Get out.” My words were steel. Firm, cold, and solid.

Whether it was the look in my eyes or the tone of my voice, I don’t know. Whatever it was, Albert didn’t argue. He grabbed Bambi by the arm and propelled her toward the door. He stopped only to reach into his jacket and pull out an envelope, which he placed in my purse, which was open and sitting on the dresser. Then they left.

Albert always thought money could buy him out of all of his problems, but I wasn’t in the mood to fight. Miss Florrie was right. You had to pick your battles, and teaching my soon-to-be ex-husband that money couldn’t buy everything was a lesson that would have to wait until another day. I was a limp dishcloth. I sat slumped over on the edge of the bed, all my energy spent.

I could feel the looks Dixie and Stephanie exchanged. Both of them sat down on either side of me and engulfed me in their arms. I felt their love and support surrounding and supporting me. I had no idea how long we sat like that—moments or hours, I couldn’t say. I felt hollow inside. Mentally, I drifted through the last twenty-five years. I acknowledged the good times, along with the not-so-good ones. Then I closed the door on that part of my life. No tears. Miss Florrie was right; those were too precious to waste on the likes of Albert.

My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since the early morning.

Stephanie laughed. “You okay, Mom?”

I reached over and gave her a squeeze. “I’m going to be just fine.” I stood up. “Now, let’s go downstairs and get some food before those vultures devour everything.”

We went downstairs. Most of the people were gone, along with the majority of the food. There were red stains on the carpet, which looked a lot like blood, but were most likely lasagna and red wine. For a brief moment, I was tempted to get the hydrogen peroxide and begin the process of treating the stains. Then I remembered Bambi’s comments about redecorating and new carpet and stopped myself. No way was I cleaning the carpet for her.

Two of Albert’s brothers, along with one nephew, were watching a baseball game on the television. Their wives were sitting in the kitchen, and children were running around everywhere.

I walked into the living room, picked up the remote, and turned off the television.

Their faces reflected confusion and thunderous clouds of rage. How dare I turn off the television in the middle of a game! Never mind the fact that it was my television, my remote, and my home, at least for a few more weeks anyway.

I held up a hand and announced loud enough for the wives in the other room to hear. “I have an announcement to make.”

Gino, Albert’s youngest brother, said, “Can it wait until after the game?” Gino was short but worked out, so he was very muscular. He liked to wear tight shirts, which emphasized his physique, and tight pants, to emphasize other areas of his anatomy. He had thick dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion. He was a rogue. He enjoyed looking at himself and believed he was irresistible to women. Unfortunately, he also liked to wear a lot of cologne, which brought tears to my eyes.

“No, it cannot wait.”

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a royal gesture. “Alright, get on with it. We’re missing the game.”

The wives came into the living room and stood by, looking at me, waiting for my announcement.

“Albert is having an affair with that twenty-year-old child he brought to the party. We’re getting a divorce. I don’t know what he’s told you, and frankly, I don’t really care. This party was a farce, and it’s over.” I walked to the front door and opened it. “So, I want all of you to leave now.”

The room was silent, and no one moved for several seconds.

Eventually, Gino stood up. “Look, I’m real sorry things didn’t work out between you and Albert, and if what you say is true, then that’s really bad. But this is the playoffs. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and take a load off?” He looked around for his wife, Angela. “Angela, take Lilly into the kitchen.” He reached for the remote.

I snatched the remote from his hand. “I don’t need to ‘sit down and take a load off.’ What I need is for you”—I looked around—“all of you, to leave my house right now.” I marched back to the door. “Get out.”

Gino stared for a few seconds, but then walked to the door. “Come on. We can watch the game at my house.” He walked to the door, stopped in front of me, as if he was going to speak, but then apparently thought better of it and left.

The others followed and, within seconds, my house was empty, except for Dixie, Stephanie, and me. When the last guest left, I closed the door and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

“Wow.” Awe was reflected in Dixie’s eyes. “That was amazing.”

I chuckled, slightly embarrassed.

“That really was amazing, Mom.” Stephanie kissed my cheek. “You’re a lot stronger than I thought.”

“I’m stronger than I thought I was too.” I stared at the mess. “Now, let’s eat.”

Dixie went out to check on the dogs. She’d left them in the RV while we shopped and prepared for the party. I’d checked out her RV earlier, and it was actually nicer than my house. This was no ordinary RV. There was satellite television, granite countertops, air-conditioning, a shower, and every amenity known to man. Her RV was spacious and well-appointed. Aggie would be fine in that RV. My only question was if she’d want to lower her standards to living in whatever quarters I found for us.

I knew my in-laws well enough to realize there wouldn’t be much food, if any left. Like buzzards, they’d picked clean everything that was placed out for public consumption. Not an olive or celery stick did they leave. While I hadn’t seen them do it, I suspected they had wrapped up plates of food and taken it home with them. Twenty-five years had taught me to be prepared. I went downstairs and came back with a small tray of untouched food. I had held back lasagna, salad, chicken parmesan, and wine.

“You’re a magician. Where were you hiding that?”

I smiled. “Stephanie’s dorm refrigerator from when she was in college is downstairs.”

Stephanie grabbed plates, glasses, and silverware. “Mom made this ingenious front that conceals the fridge. It looks like a wood file cabinet, but it’s really hiding a fridge.”

I smiled. “I found it on Pinterest.”

We sat down and enjoyed a good meal with good food, good wine, and good company. The only spoiler came when my cell phone rang. I looked at the phone. “It’s Albert.”

“Don’t answer it,” Dixie said.

I was sure Albert had heard about the announcement I’d made to Gino and his other family members. He would be angry I didn’t support his lies and hadn’t allowed him to shift the responsibility for our divorce to me. However, that was something he’d have to deal with on his own. I let the call roll to voice mail and turned off my phone.

I went to bed and slept well. All of the tension and pent-up emotion of the past few months drifted away, like sand washed away by the tide.

I awoke refreshed and energized. After a shower, I felt ready to leave everything behind and start my new life. In fact, I even brought my suitcase upstairs from the basement. I was determined that when Dixie left at the end of the week, I would go with her.

I shared my thoughts with Dixie and Stephanie at breakfast, and they both agreed it sounded like a good plan.

“I have some boxes downstairs.” I turned to Dixie.

“I’ll bring them up.” She hopped up and went downstairs.

Stephanie sat at the table for several minutes and stared into her cup of coffee.

“What’s bothering you?”

Stephanie shook her head. “What makes you think…” She turned and stared at me.

The look on my face was one I’d honed over two decades of motherhood. It said, “I’m your mother.” It stopped her protest without me speaking a single word.

“Okay, something is bothering me, but I don’t know what it means. It may not mean anything.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitated, but eventually took a deep breath. “It’s just something that happened with Mr. Nelson.” She looked down. “How well do you know him?”

I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head to the side. I had suspected her concern was related to her father bringing his girlfriend to her office, so this question took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anything to do with Albert’s attorney, Charles Nelson. I thought for a moment. “We’ve known Charles and his wife, Marilyn, for years. You know that.”

She nodded. “I know they went to St. Adalbert’s Parish and that he’s been Dad’s attorney for several years, but I mean, how well do you know him?”

I thought about the question. “We weren’t what you would call ‘close’ friends, if that’s what you mean. We never hung in the same circles. They were way out of our league. Custom-made clothes, and they lived in that big house on Lake Michigan. They traveled to Monte Carlo, Paris, and the Riviera, and spent winters in south Florida. They were the jet-set crowd.”

“That’s what I remember too. They had one son.”

“Charles Nelson the III.”

“Chip.” Stephanie smiled. “He used to drive a Porsche in high school and had pool parties I heard were alcohol and drug buffets.”

“I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mom, I didn’t go to those parties. He was out of my league too, but just because I didn’t go to the parties didn’t mean I was going to rat on him.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Besides, I think the Nelsons knew about it.” She hesitated for several seconds. “Doesn’t it seem odd that Charles Nelson is now Dad’s attorney?”

I hadn’t given the matter much thought, but I didn’t have any answers. I shrugged. “I guess. When your dad expanded his business to include imports, Chip started working at the dealership. Maybe he convinced his dad to represent your father.” I thought for a few minutes. “I know Charles went through some difficult times for a while. Gossip around town said he had financial problems. He nearly lost everything a while back, but then he was okay again and back at the yacht club and country club and flying around the world.”

“Do you remember when that was?”

I pondered. “About a year ago, I think.” I stared closely at my daughter. “What’s really going on?”

Stephanie looked thoughtful. “He’s a big, well-known attorney. He graduated from Yale. It’s just that he’s made some rookie mistakes I wouldn’t have expected of someone who’s been a lawyer for as long as he has.”

“Maybe it’s old age.”

“Maybe.” Stephanie shrugged. “Come on. We have work to do.”

* * * *

We sorted through the million items accumulated over the years. As far as I was concerned, Albert could have the furniture, appliances, and the things. Most of the items were his taste and not my own anyway. Stephanie argued it would be expensive to start over from scratch, but I didn’t care. Paying to haul items across the country I didn’t love was a price greater than any amount of money.

By lunchtime we had created pretty decent piles of items for charity, items for trash, and items that would remain with the house. The things that mattered most to me were pictures of the children, homemade cards, and other items given for Mother’s Day, Christmas, and birthdays. I spent a great deal of time reading through those cards and reliving the moments that mattered most in my life. The doorbell pulled me away from memory lane.

When I opened the door and saw two policemen standing on my porch, my legs turned to Jell-O, and my heart raced. I gripped the doorknob to keep from falling.

“Mrs. Albert Echosby?” the uniformed officer with piercing blue eyes and a five-o’clock shadow asked.

“Oh God, please don’t let it be David.”

“Who’s David?” The short, stout officer with curly red hair, light gray eyes, and freckles exchanged glances with the first officer.

“My son,” I whispered.

“May we come in?” Blue Eyes asked.

I moved aside and they entered, but I couldn’t walk and stayed rooted to the spot, my grip tight on the doorknob.

“Mrs. Echosby, we’re sorry to inform you that your husband, Albert Echosby, is dead.”