The Power House Wives - Fredrica Greene

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manager. He exuded boyish confidence. His wife looked like a cheerleader, slim and perky, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, a few wisps framing her heart-shaped face.

      Robin looked past Laurel at the empty living room. "Oh-oh. Do we have the wrong night?"

      "No," said Laurel, collecting herself. "I tried to reach you. We had to cancel the dinner." The couple stood there awkwardly. They had obviously dressed up for a party. She couldn't just shut the door on them. "Come in," she said. "At least, let me offer you a glass of wine."

      She led them to the living room and went to get Wes. The den was permeated with eau de bourbon. "Tell them to leave," Wes grunted. When he refused to get up, she conceded defeat and went into the kitchen to cobble something together.

      When Laurel returned to the living room, Robin and Hap were sitting side by side on the sofa, holding hands. She set down the tray bearing wine, glasses, and the rescued cheese cubes.

      Robin held up a hand. "I'm not drinking."

      Hap patted her stomach. "We're expecting."

      Robin blushed and pushed his hand away.

      Laurel didn't see any sign of a bulge. "When are you due?"

      "Not till the end of May,” Robin said. "After school's out."

      "Are you going to the University?"

      Hap laughed. "She teaches at Norton High."

      Laurel blushed, embarrassed by her misjudgment. "You look so young." She put her hand to her mouth. "I hope you're not offended. I mean it as a compliment."

      Robin smiled. "I took it that way."

      "Our son, Justin, is a junior at Norton."

      "He wouldn't know me unless he takes home economics," Robin said.

      "Or hangs around to watch the girls," Hap added.

      She gave him a stop-it nudge. "I coach girls' track," she explained.

      "Where's Wes?" Hap asked.

      "He's not feeling well," Laurel said. That was an understatement.

      As if to prove her right, Wes appeared in the doorway, swaying, in his undershirt and slacks. "You still here?" he slurred. He squinted at the startled trio with red-rimmed eyes. "You didn't get the word?" Laurel wished he'd go back into his cave.

      Hap looked puzzled.

      "We've been terminated. Fired."

      Hap looked uncomprehending for a moment; then his grin melted away. "But I've nearly doubled the sales in my territory."

      "I didn't say 'you'. I said 'we.' The whole damn sales team."

      Hap shook his head."That doesn't make sense."

      Wes leaned against the door jamb. "Whole fucking department's down the tubes."

      Robin's face had turned white. "We just bought our house."

      Hap wrapped a protective arm around her. "Don't worry, honey."

      "The company will probably call in the loan they gave you," Wes growled.

      "Wes," Laurel warned. This was not the time for more bad news.

      "Sorry, pal," Wes said as he staggered back to the den.

      Laurel was afraid Robin would faint. "I'm sure Hap will find a job," she said to reassure her, although she had no idea if this were true.

      "I’m not worried, Hon," he said.

      Robin got up shakily. "I don't feel well. We'd better go. "

      Laurel walked Robin and Hap to the door. "Don't mind Wes. This has been a shock to him."

      Laurel closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Tonight was bad enough; tomorrow would be worse. Wes was a bear when he had a hangover, and he'd have a doozy. She found Wes in the den, staring glassy-eyed at the television screen. She turned off the set. "Go to bed," she said. "Things will look better in the morning."

      "Yeah, and Jesus is coming back, too."

      Laurel recoiled from his hot whiskey breath as she walked Wes down the hall, his arm draped over her shoulders. In their bedroom, she twisted him off her shoulder and onto the bed. She unbuckled his belt, grabbed the cuffs of his pants and pulled them off. Once he was tucked in, none too gently, she went to the den and found the bottle on the floor by his chair. It was less than half full.

      She was about to pour the rest of the bourbon down the kitchen sink when she reassessed the situation. With the holidays just two months away, she could use it for Bourbon Balls and her famous fruitcake. But she had to hide the bottle from Wes. She was looking for the right spot when Justin popped in the front door. The duffel slung over his shoulder reeked of dirty gym clothes. Judging by his smile, Norton High must have won the Homecoming game. He dropped his duffel on the floor and gave Laurel a peck on the cheek. "Hi, Mom. Party over already?" He opened the refrigerator door and stood back. "Whoa. What's with all this food?"

      Laurel tried to sound matter-of-fact, as if this happened all the time. "Dinner was cancelled."

      "Why?"

      She kissed his forehead, brushing his lock of auburn hair aside. "Dad didn't feel well. Nothing for you to worry about."

      Justin frowned. "Is he sick?"

      She shook her head. "Just tired."

      He narrowed his eyes."What's that in your hand?"

      Laurel realized she was holding the half-empty liquor bottle. "He had a hard day."

      "Shit, not again. It's his job, isn't it?"

      Laurel patted his cheek. "I told you not to worry. And watch your language, young man."

      "Sorry."

      "Besides, things always look better in the morning."

      "You always say that."

      "That’s 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

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