that Danna-Dee was much younger than him. He seemed to think it was worth seeming older if he could portray himself as someone who’d also snagged a young trophy wife.
“No way!” said Danna-Dee. “I just got my nails done and I don’t want to ruin them!” She held them out to Abby and the men, wiggly them like purple tipped palm fronds. “What do you think?”
“Sexy,” said Randall.
“Don’t you be coming on to my wife,” Clark joked.
“Abby, what do you think?” asked Danna-Dee.
“They’re pretty.”
“Do you like the rhinestone accents? Or was that too much?”
Abby shrugged. “Either way.”
“Why don’t you get a little sun,” Randall suggested to Abby then. As long as he was nearby, he liked her to wear as little as possible. Since early in their marriage, she’d been afraid he would try to coerce her into having sex with one of his friends, but he’d never taken it that far. Perhaps if it ever went there, that would be her breaking point. Or maybe not. She’d begun to doubt whether she even had a breaking point. Maybe only strong people had them. Maybe she was so weak that she would bend and bend and bend, like a spaghetti noodle.
“I’m actually a little chilly tonight,” she said, pulling her thin summer sweater around her shoulders.
“She’s in some mood, isn’t she,” Randall said to Clark and Danna-Dee. “Have a little more to drink, why don’t you,” he said, now turning his attention on Abby, making a production of it. “Maybe it will mellow you out.”
“I don’t need any more,” she said.
He ignored this, topping off her wine glass. Then he turned back to Clark and Danna-Dee. “Did this one tell you her latest scheme?” He jabbed his thumb into Abby’s shoulder a few times. She froze, half expecting him to share her innermost thoughts that he’d somehow siphoned straight out of her brain with one of his spying devices.
“I don’t think so,” said Danna-Dee, “but now you’ve got me curious.”
“She wants to take courses on camping,” said Randall.
Oh, that scheme. Abby breathed a sigh of relief.
“Camping?” Clark asked.
“I’ve always been interested in the outdoors,” Abby said to Clark and Danna-Dee.
“Huh,” Clark said. He shook his head and took another drink of his scotch.
“Right, Honey? You’ve always known that about me,” Abby added, smiling at Randall. He was so adept at ignoring her true feelings and interests that telling him he’d forgotten one wouldn’t even arouse his usually overactive suspicions.
“I never would have taken you for an outdoorsy girl,” said Danna-Dee.
“Well, I guess that’s why I thought it might be fun to take some classes. You see, I’m not very outdoorsy, but I’m interested in nature and camping. I thought Randall and I could take some fun classes together and then take a trip where we could try out our skills.”
“Why would you want to suffer when you can have luxury?” Danna-Dee asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Abby waved her hand in the air like she was brushing away her own silliness. “It was just an idea.”
“I think she wants to get me out in the woods and kill me,” Randall said.
“Oh, Randall! You’re terrible,” said Abby.
“Are these the classes taught through the college by that old man? What’s his name? Bob something?” Danna-Dee asked.
“Hmmm. I’m not sure who teaches them,” Abby said.
“Ned and Bonnie Callaway’s son Nathan took some classes like that before he went to Ecuador. Non-credit courses. Bonnie said Nate loved them.”
“Isn’t that great,” Abby said.
Danna-Dee nodded and continued, “The instructor was some kind of old mountain man. I got the impression he was eighty years old, but still going strong.”
“Yeah, that sounds like the classes I read about,” Abby said. She sneaked a peek at Randall to see if his radar was being tripped; he was digging a car key in his ear, looking out at the ocean with his eyes
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