LITMIR.BIZ

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the rugs vacuum themselves while I lie on the couch all day watching soap operas.”

      The women chuckled and nodded in agreement.

      “Don’t even mention rugs,” moaned Lee. “You know my beautiful Kirman, the one my parents gave us for a wedding present?”

      “He wants that?” asked Lydia.

      Lee nodded, and the women sighed and shook their heads in dismay.

      “That’s terrible,” said Juanita.

      “I’d tell him exactly what he could do with it,” said Pam.

      “Well, he’s not going to get it,” said Lee. “I’m going to make sure of that. That’s why I went with the Boston lawyer. He says he always goes right for the jugular!”

      “And I bet he charges Boston prices, too,” said Rachel, who was standing next to Lucy.

      “Like the hair-dye commercial says, ‘I’m worth it,’” said Lee, defending her choice. “Besides, I have my girls’ futures to think of, too.”

      This was received with another murmur of approval, and Lee paused to take a bite of cake.

      Rachel turned to Lucy. “She’s making a big mistake,” she whispered. “A local lawyer like Bob would try to get them to reconcile, or at least work out an amicable agreement. That would be a lot better for the kids, believe me.”

      Lucy nodded in agreement. She tended to think people were often too quick to opt for divorce and didn’t consider the consequences, especially for the children. “I don’t know—even if she gets everything she wants, she isn’t going to be able to keep the same lifestyle. Whatever he makes, now it’s got to support two households instead of one.”

      “That’s right,” said Rachel. “Except for a handful of very wealthy people, divorce is a one-way road to poverty.”

      “Yoo-hoo,” halloed Sue, sailing through the front door. “Sorry I’m late…”

      “It’s about time you got here,” complained Lucy, who had been wondering if Sue had abandoned her.

      “Nice shirt—and so subtle, too,” joked Sue, blinking at Lucy’s bright Santa sweatshirt. “I would have been here hours ago except my battery died. So, how’s it going?”

      “Touch and go,” said Lucy, with a little shrug. “No fatalities—yet.”

      “I’d say you’re doing great,” said Sue. Then, raising her voice, she announced, “Now, listen everybody. I know you can’t wait to start grabbing cookies but I want you to meet someone. This is Tucker Whitney, my new assistant at the center.”

      Tucker, Lucy saw, could be trouble. She was a strikingly attractive twentysomething. Tall and slender, she had long, naturally blond hair.

      “Hi, Tucker,” chorused the group, without much enthusiasm. Realizing she was no longer the center of attention, Lee decided to pour herself a second cup of coffee.

      “Hi, everybody,” said Tucker, smiling broadly. Although she was the youngest person there and didn’t know most of the others, she was one of those rare people who are comfortable wherever they go.

      She turned to Lucy and indicated the stack of platters and tins in her arms. “What should I do with these? I hope I made enough. Sue didn’t tell me how many to bring so I have these twelve dozen but if you need more, I’ve got another six dozen in the car.”

      “Oh, my goodness. You didn’t need to do all that,” said Lucy. “You only needed to bring six dozen.”

      “Oh, well, you can keep the extras,” said Tucker. “Sue told me you’ve got four kids.” She looked around at the house, obviously impressed. “You’re so lucky. Someday I want to have a big family and a house just like this.”

      Lucy started to protest politely, but changed her mind. “You’re right. I am lucky. Thanks for reminding me. Sometimes I take too much for granted.”

      “Don’t we all,” said Tucker. “Now, I hope everyone likes these cookies. It’s a new recipe I got from a magazine, and it sounded too good to be true. They’re supposed to be low in fat and sugar…”

      “That can’t be!” exclaimed Lee, glaring at Tucker from the other side of the table.

      “Well, that’s what it said,” insisted Tucker.

      “They’re the same as my cookies!” Lee pointed an accusing finger at Tucker. “You stole my recipe!”

      Tucker didn’t reply, she just shrugged her shoulder apologetically.

      Lucy felt a little bit like a firefighter, rushing to put out yet another flare of temper.

      “It just goes to show that good recipes get around,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Toby heading upstairs, looking like a young man with a mission, but before she could remind him to use the downstairs bathroom she was distracted by Tucker’s request to borrow something to put her cookies in.

      “I didn’t think to bring an extra container,” she confessed.

      “Not a problem,” said Lucy, pulling a bread basket out of the sideboard and giving it to her. “Don’t mind Lee,” she added. “She’s involved in a messy divorce.”

      “I know. Her little girl, Hillary, comes to the day-care center. She talks about it a lot. She’s pretty upset about Daddy leaving home.”

      “That’s too bad,” responded Lucy automatically, her attention drawn to the living room.

      There, as if in slow motion, she saw Franny approaching Andrea, holding out something. Oh my God, she thought, realizing that Franny, dear, well-meaning Franny, had saved one of the MADD pamphlets and was intending to give it to Andrea. No doubt expecting her to be grateful for this show of concern.

      Lucy immediately started across the room, hoping to intercept Franny before the exchange could take place. In her haste, her foot slipped out of her loafer and she began to fall. She caught herself by grabbing the doorjamb and quickly shoved her foot back into the shoe.

      “What is this? A joke?” exclaimed Andrea, glaring at Franny.

      Lucy hurried to explain. “Steffie brought these pamphlets. Her husband is…”

      “I know exactly who her husband is,” hissed Andrea.

      “Well, if I’d known about Tim, I never would have let her put the pamphlets out. And as soon as I heard, I threw them away. I’m sure Franny was only trying to be helpful.”

      “That’s right,” sniffed Franny.

      To Lucy’s dismay, Steffie joined their little group and placed her hand on Andrea’s arm.

      “It’s very normal to feel angry about Tim’s arrest, but it’s for his own good,” she said. “My husband has seen too many terrible accidents where kids, kids like Tim, have been killed. Isn’t it better for him to learn that drinking and driving is unacceptable? I mean,” she continued with the bright certainty of the mother of a blameless three-year-old, “I would much rather spend a morning in court with Will than a night in the emergency room.”

      “Well, I wouldn’t be so confident, if I were you,” said Andrea, pulling her arm free of Steffie’s grasp. Her voice rang out shrilly, and the other women dropped their conversations and turned toward her.

      “I know what you’re thinking, all of you,” continued Andrea, her eyes flashing with anger. “You’re all positive that something like this will never happen to you because you’re good mothers. It’s only bad mothers whose kids get in trouble. And you’ve done everything right. You’ve cooked dinner every night. OK, so once in a while you order pizza, but that’s as bad as it gets. Right?”

      Pam and Juanita chuckled nervously.

      “You

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