Chapter 2

“Have you seen this Macy’s bill? Meredith’s tuition’s due next week. You need to watch your spending, Leslie.”

Scott’s six-foot-six frame was stretched over the brown leather recliner purchased for him for Father’s Day. The blue tie with silver stripes had been loosened. His salt-and-pepper hair, sprayed to keep every shaft in place, still looked like it did when he and Leslie left the house that morning in separate cars.

Scott had beaten her home, and it seemed to Leslie like he was looking for ways to torment her before they headed out to dinner with friends. His comment made her bristle, especially since she brought home the larger paycheck.

“Nice to see you, too,” she responded, flatly.

“Yeah, well?” Scott drummed his fingers on the open envelopes on the table beside him.

Leslie sighed and tossed her coat onto a nearby couch. “There’s a birthday present for Sue in there. Plus stuff for the house. New towels.”

She looked past her inquisitor and out the window at the half-frozen stream in the backyard. A blue heron was attempting to fish from the shore – its body stilled into attack position and directed at a small hole in the ice. Behind the bird, naked tree limbs were silhouetted against the setting sun.

Why don’t you fly south this time of year? Who doesn’t want to get away from this?

“Doesn’t Metro pay its employees enough?” Scott asked.

“That’s not the point. She’s my right hand, my friend.”

“I bet she wasn’t there today.”

“It’s Saturday, Scott. You don’t expect your people to work on Saturday. Do we have to talk about this now? I gotta change for dinner,” Leslie said, as she headed down the hallway to the bedroom.

“We aren’t finished with this conversation,” Scott called after her.

Like hell we aren’t. Someday I will find the voice to respond to your demeaning interrogations. It’s not worth the hassle now.

She walked into the closet they shared. His side was filled with custom-made suits and shirts that cost a bundle. And he was questioning her spending?

She slid the wooden hangers across the rod on her side of the closet, jamming the garments one against the other. She settled on a long-sleeved black dress with a modest V-neck she last wore to a funeral. So appropriate.

There was no time for a shower. She applied fresh make-up, deodorant and sprayed the Bond fragrance Chinatown on her bare neck. When the spicy scent hit her nostrils, she thought of Brad and the moment he leaned toward her to compliment her skin and exposed her vulnerability.

The fraying sleeves on the waiter’s tuxedo jacket didn’t diminish the flourish with which the balding server greeted his returning customers.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Elliott. My favorite couple. Welcome back to zu Tisch. You must try this!” Phillip’s cheeks were shiny and pink. An exaggerated grin engulfed the lower third of his face. He shoved a bottle of red wine in front of Scott, who took a sip and gave the waiter a nod to pour two glasses.

“Now taste,” Phillip crooned, moistening his thin lips. “Wait five minutes and try again, and see how the flavor unfolds like…like a flower opening to reveal its intoxicating perfume.”

While Scott twirled, sniffed and slurped the wine, Leslie’s gaze drifted to the couple at the next table. Mid-50s. Well dressed. The thin gold bands on their left hands seem dulled. They sipped champagne and looked at each other like newlyweds. When the man reached for the woman’s hand and brought it to his lips, Leslie turned away.

“Is that necessary?” she said.

“What?” Scott responded from behind the glass.

“The sniffing and slurping.”

“The sniffing and slurping, as you call it, helps one appreciate the bouquet.”

Leslie rolled her eyes as Scott took another noisy drink.

“So, your CEO. I hear he’s quite the womanizer,” he said, as he set down his glass and reached for a brown roll and a pat of butter shaped like a rose.

“Who told you that?” That night at The Rendezvous. Brad and that woman.

“One of my patients knows you’re a VP at Metro. Asked me how you liked him. She worked at the bank when he did. Said he was charming.”

“He’s okay. Better than Henry, the dinosaur. Brad got the union guys on his side his first week on the job. Their head guy had lunch with him, and they wrapped up the contract before dessert. Henry wouldn’t deal with the unions. They weren’t his kind,” she said, grimacing.

“If he likes women so much, maybe you can get a raise out of him. You know, flash that perfect smile his way. Lord knows your veneers cost enough.”

Leslie went silent. She would never use “smiles or wiles” to gain an advantage at work. Never. Scott often complained about her work ethic, and now he was cheapening it with a sexist comment. When did he become such a prick? She took a long sip of wine to keep from saying anything. As she set down her glass a little too firmly, she saw the familiar couple striding across the dining room.

There was a 20-pound gap between the button on the man’s outdated tweed coat and its corresponding buttonhole. Except for the color, the style of his white hair – combed to one side and needing a trim – hadn’t changed much from the 1990s photos Leslie had seen of him in a family scrapbook. His smile exposed large teeth with a gap in the middle.

“Hello, my partner!” Dr. Rajeev Chanders’ voice boomed over the chatter of diners and the background music of Viennese waltzes coming from the restaurant’s sound system.

Trotting behind him was Karen, his wife, a woman in her mid-40s and Leslie’s best friend. Her navy, square-necked dress hugged the slight muffin top around her waist; her hemline stopped just above fleshy knees. Her black curly hair bounced as she hurried to keep up with her husband.

“Sorry we are late. I had to pick up something for my little college sweetheart,” he said, as he pulled out a chair for his wife. “Our 20th anniversary, you know.”

Karen Chanders’ blue eyes sparkled as she patted her chest, drawing attention to a large yellow diamond suspended above her liberal cleavage. “It’s four carats.”

“Four carats, Raj? You rob a jewelry store, ol’ buddy? Or maybe you’ve been skimming from our practice?” Scott asked, grinning.

“That is a good one, Scott. It belonged to my Aunt Amala. Her first husband was a successful businessman who died young. Then she married my Uncle Dinesh. They did not have any children so they have given the two best pieces of my aunt’s jewelry to me and my brother. What good fortune,” he said, flashing a toothy grin at the nearby diners.

“I guess so,” Scott grunted. Leslie caught the envy in his voice and wondered if Raj noticed.

After placing their dinner orders, Leslie grabbed Karen’s arm. “Let’s go to the ladies’ room. I want to get a better look at your necklace.” She shot a glance in Raj’s direction. He was busy studying the wine list.

“Raj wouldn’t mind if everybody noticed. He wants me to wear it all the time,” Karen said, as she pushed open the door with Fraulein written on it. “People will see how successful he is. That’s what he thinks. I don’t want people to think I’m a show-off.”

Leslie pulled reading glasses from her purse and grabbed the stone between her thumb and forefinger, moving it back and forth to reflect the restroom lights. “Wow. Let everyone be jealous. You deserve this.”

Karen gave Leslie a hug. “You always say the right thing, girlfriend.”

“Not always.” Buoyed by two glasses of wine, Leslie shared the details of her meeting with Brad and her sighting of him and a woman at The Rendezvous a month earlier. Although she didn’t care for gossip, some pieces of information were too entertaining not to share with Karen, who was like a sister.

“I saw his car by the Metro entrance. Asked the guard if Brad was working late. Seems he’d left the building about 45 minutes earlier. I figured he’d gone to the bar down the street. Funny, he even mentioned that to me today – about having a drink there together. That was my intention at the time. To get to know him better in a casual setting. The men in our company do that all the time.”

“Of course, they do,” Karen said, rolling her eyes and nodding her head. “The woman you saw him with, was she another employee – or maybe his girlfriend?”

“I’m sure not. He’s married. But this woman was very close to Brad. Patting his hand. Stuff like that. Idiot that I am, I tripped over the steps in my rush to get out of there. God, he probably thought I was stalking him.”

Karen laughed. “Sounds like he likes the girls. If he’s the hunk you say he is, they probably don’t resist. Watch yourself.”

“He’s been married to Nan, I think that’s her name, for a long time. He made a point of telling me that the blonde was an old friend. Wonder why he said that?”

“Ha. Maybe he has the hots for you,” Karen said, as she pulled out a lipstick wand and applied the pink gloss.

“Around him I’m jelly – and I hate that. I get this itchy feeling in the back of my neck,” Leslie said.

“So, Miss In Control is feeling a little out...