because it's true."
He picked up his duffel and slung it over his shoulder. "Shit," he muttered as he crashed down the hall to his room. "Shit, shit, shit."
Laurel's stomach rumbled. She'd eaten nothing but a few cheese cubes and shrimp balls. She made a cup of chamomile tea and cut herself a piece of the cake that was to have been tonight's grand finale. The house was silent. When she had finished the last crumb and rinsed off the dishes, Laurel hid the bourbon bottle in the back of the cabinet with her baking supplies. Wes would never look there. Then she trudged slowly down the hall, her way lit only by the light seeping under Justin's door.
She undressed in the dark and crawled into bed. Wes snored loudly. With each exhalation, his sour breath fanned over her. Laurel scrunched over to her side of the bed, her back to him. Tomorrow they would discuss his next move. "Move" as in take action, not "move" as in relocate. She'd do whatever she could to stay put.
Zora wangled a last minute reservation at the Club. The fact that she was Mrs. Nathan Lowe did the trick. The hostess managed to find her a table.
She had tried to reach Nathan at his office to tell him of their change of plans, but he had already left. To her annoyance, when she phoned his private line, her call was routed to the Power House main voice mail. She thought she might have misdialed, but when she tried again she got the same result.
As she watched from her living room window as cars wound up the hill to her street, she grew restless. Where was Nathan? She had chilled two martini glasses so they could have a relaxing cocktail before they left for the Club. Lights were coming on in the town below; square nuggets of gold glinted in the darkening sky.
She was irritated at Nathan for being late, irritated at Power House for its misdirected phone answering system, and really irritated at Laurel for canceling dinner so last minute. What could be so important? Why the mystery? If someone was sick, why didn't she just say so?
On the bright side, she didn't have to suffer through one of Laurel's over-the-top dinners with their silly themes. Sometimes it was hard to keep a straight face. Especially the April Showers dinner Laurel gave, in which every drink had an umbrella, strings of raindrop-shaped glass beads hung over the table, and the place names were written on doll-size rubber rain boots. Frankly, she didn't understand why Laurel went to all that work. Why not just have her parties catered? Zora couldn't imagine actually cooking.
Zora paced back and forth in front of the window until she saw Nathan's car pull into the driveway. She heard the front door open and Nathan's heels click along the marble entry floor. Zora filled the chilled glasses and dropped a pistachio-filled olive in each.
Nathan trudged into the living room, shoulders sagging; shadows underlined his eyes. Zora kissed him on the cheek, then rubbed off her lipstick mark off with her thumb."You look exhausted."
He collapsed onto the beige leather couch.
Zora handed him his martini. "You'll be glad to know we don't have to go to the Hardestys' tonight. The party's been canceled."
"I would expect so," he said glumly.
Zora raised her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Wes got the axe today."
A few drops of gin spilled from Zora's glass onto the Oriental carpet."No wonder Laurel didn't want to talk. Why ?"
"You heard the rumors that the company would be sold."
Zora hadn't paid much attention.
"A lot of people lost their jobs today." Nathan raised his glass to his lips and took a swallow. "But the shareholders will be happy."
"What about your job?" At his level, he should be untouchable."They need you."
Nathan drained his glass. "Don't worry."
Zora sat on the arm of the couch. "A strange thing happened when I tried to call you. I got the main number."
He flushed. "They're redoing the phone system. My line must be down."
"Not for long, I hope." She stood up and took his glass. "We're due at the Club in twenty minutes."
Nathan sighed. "Can't we stay home?"
"I have nothing here. I thought we'd be at Laurel's." She took his glass. "We'll have a nice quiet dinner."
The Club hostess led them to a table in a corner near the kitchen.
"Don't you have anything better?" Zora asked, looking pointedly at an empty table near the windows that overlooked the golf course.
"They're all reserved."
Ordinarily Zora would have stood her ground and insisted on the better location, but she was glad to get anything at all on such short notice.
The room was bustling. The few empty tables had Reserved signs. The waiters rushed in and out of the swinging kitchen door, irritating Zora, though Nathan didn't seem to notice. When their waiter finally approached, Zora ordered lobster tail and a glass of Chardonnay.
Nathan handed the waiter his menu."I'll have a martini. Make it a double. And the clam chowder,"
"Is that all?" Zora asked. Nathan always ordered the prime rib.
"I'm not hungry."
She leaned across the table and touched his forehead. "Are you sure you're all right?"
He brushed her hand away. "I'm fine. Just tired."
Zora glanced toward the door. "Look who just came in," she said. "Craig and his child bride." Her eyes followed them as they were led to the table she coveted. In a sea of homogenous middle-aged diners, Caprice stood out -- tall and slim with long blonde Alice-in-Wonderland hair. Zora's hand involuntarily went up to her own neatly sprayed, freshly highlighted bob.
Nathan didn't look up. The waiter appeared and set their drinks in front of them.
Zora glanced around the room. "Why don't we have our Christmas party here for a change? I'll ask Antonio if the banquet room is available."
Nathan swirled his drink. "Let's skip the party this year."
She took a sip of wine."We can't do that. Everybody looks forward to it." Zora leaned forward, lowering her voice. "If we don't, people will think they weren't invited. You don't want to offend anyone."
Nathan took a slug of his drink."Let's not talk about it now."
Zora decided not to pursue the subject. He was obviously upset by the events at work. Having their annual party was clearly the right thing to do. It would be insurance to help cement his position - just in case. She'd make all the arrangements and present it to him as a fait accompli. Nathan wouldn't have to do a thing.
She tried to think of something amusing to cheer him up. Since her day had been spent getting her hair and nails done after a morning of bridge, she had little ammunition. Somehow she didn't think he'd be distracted by her description of her bridge hands.
Fortunately, the waiter appeared with their food, and the need for conversation was allayed. Zora picked at her lobster tail, careful not to get a drop of
