Read Online Perfect Little Ladies by Abby Drake - Free Book Online Page B

that he deferred to when he was trying to be funny.
    She wondered if she’d turned off the computer in the media room, or if she’d left her e-mails displayed. She was still so unaccustomed to having something to hide.
    Steam oozed up from her toes; she grabbed a place mat and fanned her face.
    “Sit,” Neal said. He gestured to the slim, postmodern Sacha Lakic chair that he’d insisted on buying because he’d said less was more.
    She sat.
    “We made the presentation this morning. It looks as if we’ve landed the account.”
    She couldn’t remember if “the account” was the beauty products manufacturer or the national chain of health-food stores. After so many years, they all sounded the same. “That’s great,” she said. “Congratulations.” Apparently the conversation would be about him, not unemployment or Elinor or Alice’s indiscretions. She set down the place mat.
    “They’ve invited management to dinner.”
    When the invitation was formal, it often meant wives were included—or, rather, domestic whatevers, since the management of Neal’s firm now boasted one or two females and a homosexual man in order to attract clients who cared about that sort of thing.
    “Well,” she said, “it certainly seems as if you’ve landed it.”
    “They’ll make the announcement at the dinner. I’m sure they think everyone will be thrilled to have an inside connection to the resorts and spas.”
    Resorts and spas. Neal must be referring to Tang Worldwide, named for an early Chinese dynasty famous for its delicate, hand-painted folding screens that brought inner peace and balance. Alice once remarked it sounded more like the orange powder mix they’d been encouraged to drink in school because the astronauts brought it with them to the moon.
    She watched Neal’s spoon scoop a piece of tomato and a red bean. “Will we get ‘family’ discounts? I’m sure the girls would love to go.” How many cities and countries enjoyed a Tang Worldwide resort? Could it be a chance for Alice to go international with her new hobby? When Neal finished his minestrone, she’d have to go online. If he didn’t get there first and figure out what she’d been doing.
    “The dinner is Thursday,” he said, as he stood up.
    “Thursday?” she asked, her voice in a squeak. “But I won’t be here Thursday. Kiley Kate has her competition in Orlando.”
    “I’m sure Melissa will go, under the circumstances.”
    Melissa was a sweet girl, though she’d gotten pregnant too young and robbed Alice of the fun of planning a big wedding. She was a good mother and a good wife, but she was terrified of flying. Neither Ativan nor Xanax seemed to penetrate her fear. “You know that’s not possible, Neal.”
    “Well, David, then,” he said as he carried the soup bowl to the sink because though he now could well afford domestic help, he’d been raised in a row house in Reading, Pennsylvania, where he’d shared a tiny bedroom with three brothers and a dog and cleaning up after yourself had been instilled. “For God’s sake, Kiley Kate is their daughter, not yours.”
    Alice sighed. “David is not at a point in his career that he can take a few days off for something, well, unscheduled.”
    “Of course he can. I’ll make the call.”
    Alice stood up. “No, Neal. That isn’t fair. Helping Kiley Kate is one thing, interfering with David’s job, quite another. It won’t teach the children to be independent.” Neither of them mentioned their dependent daughter, Felicity, whose Miss Porter’s education had been a waste of time and hope, not to mention dollars. So, too, had been the girl’s college years, which she’d turned into a career from Barnard to Boston College, from Swarthmore to Simon’s Rock. She was such a bright girl, but sometimes brains just didn’t count.
    “Then ask the babysitter to go with Kiley. Good God, Alice, it’s not as if I ask for much.”
    “It’s hard to ask for anything when you’re never