LITMIR.BIZ

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I don't know what I was thinking. Craig's going to hear about this, and I'm sure to catch hell."

      "Remember this." Laurel flexed her biceps. "Woman warrior."

      Charlie laughed. As they walked back to the parking lot, Charlie said, "I wonder if Craig is just testing the waters. If I make it difficult enough, he might drop the idea. After all, in his heart -- if he still has one -- he knows it's my house."

      Laurel rested a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "When have you ever known Craig to make idle threats?"

      Charlie sighed as she shooed the dogs into the back of the wagon. She knew Laurel was right.

      On the way into the house Charlie pulled the sticky brown paper strips - dotted with the carcasses of a few unfortunate flies - from the doorway and retrieved the key from under the mat. She set about cleaning up, fuming. She had thought Craig couldn't hurt her any more. That, despite the court order, they had a tacit understanding he would do right by her. Did their years together mean nothing? Apparently not to him.

      Charlie was scrubbing tea bag stains out of the sink when she heard a car pull up in front. She looked out the window and saw a black Cadillac convertible was at the curb. A very angry Craig got out, slammed the car door and marched toward the house.

      Charlie dropped into a crouch, crab-walked into the pantry and pulled the door shut. The doorbell rang. Thank God she had picked up the key from under the mat. The bell rang a second time, and then a third. The dogs barked frantically at the front door.

      Charlie's heart beat so loudly it seemed to vibrate. She had planned to have the house back in order before Craig had a chance to hear from Sheila. She would play innocentl as if she didn't know what he was talking about. She'd suggest that Sheila was lying, or hallucinating, or at the very least overstating the situation. She had underestimated Sheila. The woman worked fast.

      Charlie cowered in the pantry, waiting for Craig to give up. She jumped when she heard a tap at the back door. The dogs headed back to the kitchen. Charlie opened the pantry door just enough to peer out. From her vantage point she could see the sliding glass door between the kitchen and the back yard. The dogs stared out the door and Freya, in faded sweats and tennis shoes, peered in.

      Freya signaled Charlie to unlock the door. Charlie waved at her to go away. Freya shook her head. Charlie glanced furtively at the front window to make sure Craig couldn't see her. She scooted to the door, unlatched it, and scurried back into the pantry.

      Freya followed her and gingerly lowered herself onto the pantry floor. "So," she said, "how did it go?"

      Charlie held a finger to her lips. "Sssh."

      "He can't hear us in here."

      "How did you get back here?"

      The bell rang again, following by pounding on the door. Charlie cringed.

      "I came by to help you with the drapes. When I saw that monster-mobile outside I figured it might be your ex's. So I pretended I was going to the house next door. While he was looking under the mat, I came around the back," She stood up and stepped out into the kitchen. "Come on out," she urged Charlie. "He's not going away. Let's answer the door."

      Charlie wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't think that's a good idea. He's furious."

      "Let me handle it," Freya said and headed toward the front door.

      Freya opened the door and faced Craig's chest. Her frizzy hair barely came up to his chin.

      "Who are you?" he asked.

      "Freya Diamond. And you?"

      "Where's Charlotte?"

      "Charlotte?" She hesitated. "Oh. You mean Charlie?"

      "Who the hell is Charlie?"

      Charlie stood behind Freya. "She means me."

      He snorted. "So you're Charlie now?" He cocked his head toward Freya. "This your girlfriend?"

      He started to step into the doorway, but Freya put a hand on his chest and stopped him.

      "I'm her lawyer, and you'll have to leave."

      He pushed her hand away."I'm not putting up with this crap." His icy tone made Charlie shiver.

      As he stepped into the doorway, Gunther bared his teeth and growled. Craig quick-stepped back onto the porch. Charlie made a mental promise to give Gunther an extra treat.

      "I'll be back," Craig threatened. "With a court order."

      "No need," Freya said with a smile. "Next time make an appointment."

      "It's my house, dammit," he grumbled. "I don't need an appointment."

      "Actually, you do." Freya placed her hand on the door. "If you'll excuse us, we have business to discuss."

      "You'll regret this," he said as Freya started to shut the door.

      She opened it wider. "Would you care to explain what you mean? Is that a threat? "

      "Take it any way you want," he growled.

      "I take it that we may need a restraining order," she said sweetly. "Thank you for the warning."

      "Screw you," he said and stormed off.

      "Wow," Charlie said, impressed. "You sure handled him." She'd never had the nerve to talk to Craig like that.

      Freya shrugged. "Nothing to it."

      Charlie snapped back to reality. Craig wouldn't give up. "What have we accomplished?" she asked. "We only made him mad."

      "Isn't that reward enough?" Freya rested a hand on Charlie's arm. "We also stymied a sale and bought some time."

      Charlie shrugged. "What do we do now?"

      "Wait to see his next move. In the meantime, unless you want to live with these old drapes, go get the ladder."

      CHAPTER 3

      Thanksgiving dinner was the only meal Charlie really cooked any more. What was the point for one person? Since this might be her last Thanksgiving in this house, she would make it one to remember. She’d have her own ‘orphans’ dinner. When Meredith made her weekly call home, Charlie would tell her to invite her friends. She’d leave messages for Brad at the fraternity house and on his cell phone. Sooner or later, he’d call back. Although Craig had pretty much dropped out of their lives since the divorce, she and the kids were a tight-knit group. Once, when she had commented that Meredith’s then boyfriend seemed aloof, Meredith had said, “Mom, we’re a hard clique to break into.”

      This Thanksgiving she’d go all out. No pumpkin pie in a box from the freezer case; no canned yams in syrup. She’d make everything from scratch. With the holiday two weeks away, it wasn’t too soon to get started. Her shopping list looked like a page in the phone book, tiny scrawls filling the page.

      As she drove to the grocery store, she couldn’t help notice large HOLIDAY SALE signs in almost every store window. When did they start having sales before Thanksgiving? There was still Halloween candy on the supermarket shelves. This was the time of year when merchants could charge whatever they thought they could get away with. This was the time of year they made most of their annual profits. Why markdowns now?

      The supermarket was warm and welcoming. An abundance of vegetation filled the produce section, pyramids of bronze yams, dimpled oranges, shiny apples, plump bags of cranberries, and an enormous tub of rotund pumpkins, small and large. Christmas music wafted through the aisles. Charlie wondered if the idea was to subliminally seduce shoppers into spending. She didn’t need inducement today. She ordered the largest turkey she could fit in her oven -- twice the size of her usual bird. She’d pick it up two days before Thanksgiving. As she steered her cart up one aisle and down the next, checking off her list, her spirits rose. By the time she reached the check-out stand, she had to put one hand on top of her groceries to keep them from tumbling out of her cart.

      Charlie arrived home to find the Realtor’s card

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