mumbled, bending over to pick up the empty, torn envelopes that lay on the floor.
“So what happened around here today?” he asked, opening another envelope. Another piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
“The usual madness. Marcia called a few times today, looking for you. When I could finally find the phone. Bud hid the handset again, the battery went dead, and it took me ages to find it. Anyway, she needs help with deciding on a venue for your dad’s party. What did you tell her?”
Silence. She patiently watched him reading the last page of a document and waited for an answer. When he had folded the papers and dropped them on the table, he reached for another envelope.
“Honey?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked you about Marcia,” she said, trying to keep her patience, then proceeded to pick up the new pieces of paper that had fallen to the floor.
“Oh yeah.” He unfolded another document and became once again distracted by the contents.
“Yes?” she said loudly.
He looked up and gazed at her, as though noticing for the first time that she was standing there. “What were we saying?”
“Marcia,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes. “We’re talking about Marcia, but you’re busy, so…” She began making her way to the kitchen.
“Oh, that. I’m taking the party off her hands. Alison’s going to organize it.”
Ruth stopped. “Alison?”
“Yes, my secretary. She’s new. Have you met her?”
“Not yet.” She slowly made her way back towardhim. “Honey, Marcia was really excited about organizing the party.”
“And now Alison is.” He smiled. “Not.” Then he laughed.
She smiled patiently at the inside joke that she didn’t understand.
Lou looked away. He knew that Marcia had loved organizing the party, that she’d been planning it for months. But in taking it out of her hands he was, in fact, making it easier on himself. He couldn’t stand the twenty calls a day about cake tasting and whether or not he’d allow three of their decrepit aunts to stay overnight in his house or if he’d lend a few of his serving spoons for the buffet. Ever since her marriage had ended, Marcia had focused on this party. Maybe if she’d have given her marriage as much attention as she did the bloody party…Taking this off her hands was a favor to her and a favor to himself. Two things accomplished at once. Just what he liked.
Ruth took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. “Your dinner’s ready.” She began to move toward the kitchen again. “It’ll just take a minute to heat up. And I bought that apple pie you like.”
“I’ve eaten,” he said, folding the letter he’d just finished and ripping it into pieces that fluttered to the floor. It was either the sound of yet more paper hitting the floor or his words that stopped her, but either way she froze.
“I’ll pick the bloody things up,” he said with irritation.
She slowly turned around and asked in a quiet voice, “Where did you eat?”
“Shanahan’s. Rib-eye steak. I’m stuffed.” He absentmindedly rubbed his stomach.
“With who?”
“Work people.”
“Who?”
“What’s this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
“No, just a wife asking a husband who he had dinner with.”
“A few guys from the office. You don’t know them.”
“I wish you would have told me.”
“It wasn’t a social thing. Nobody else’s wives were there.”
“I didn’t mean—I’d like to have known so I wouldn’t have bothered cooking for you.”
“Christ, Ruth, I’m sorry you cooked and bought a bloody pie,” he exploded.
“Sssh,” she said, closing her eyes and hoping his raised voice wouldn’t wake the baby.
“No! I won’t sssh!” he boomed. “Okay?” He made his way into the parlor, leaving his shoes in the middle of the hallway and his papers and envelopes strewn across the hall table.
Ruth took another deep breath, turned away from his mess, and made her way to the opposite side of the house.
W HEN L
“So what happened around here today?” he asked, opening another envelope. Another piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
“The usual madness. Marcia called a few times today, looking for you. When I could finally find the phone. Bud hid the handset again, the battery went dead, and it took me ages to find it. Anyway, she needs help with deciding on a venue for your dad’s party. What did you tell her?”
Silence. She patiently watched him reading the last page of a document and waited for an answer. When he had folded the papers and dropped them on the table, he reached for another envelope.
“Honey?”
“Hmm?”
“I asked you about Marcia,” she said, trying to keep her patience, then proceeded to pick up the new pieces of paper that had fallen to the floor.
“Oh yeah.” He unfolded another document and became once again distracted by the contents.
“Yes?” she said loudly.
He looked up and gazed at her, as though noticing for the first time that she was standing there. “What were we saying?”
“Marcia,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes. “We’re talking about Marcia, but you’re busy, so…” She began making her way to the kitchen.
“Oh, that. I’m taking the party off her hands. Alison’s going to organize it.”
Ruth stopped. “Alison?”
“Yes, my secretary. She’s new. Have you met her?”
“Not yet.” She slowly made her way back towardhim. “Honey, Marcia was really excited about organizing the party.”
“And now Alison is.” He smiled. “Not.” Then he laughed.
She smiled patiently at the inside joke that she didn’t understand.
Lou looked away. He knew that Marcia had loved organizing the party, that she’d been planning it for months. But in taking it out of her hands he was, in fact, making it easier on himself. He couldn’t stand the twenty calls a day about cake tasting and whether or not he’d allow three of their decrepit aunts to stay overnight in his house or if he’d lend a few of his serving spoons for the buffet. Ever since her marriage had ended, Marcia had focused on this party. Maybe if she’d have given her marriage as much attention as she did the bloody party…Taking this off her hands was a favor to her and a favor to himself. Two things accomplished at once. Just what he liked.
Ruth took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. “Your dinner’s ready.” She began to move toward the kitchen again. “It’ll just take a minute to heat up. And I bought that apple pie you like.”
“I’ve eaten,” he said, folding the letter he’d just finished and ripping it into pieces that fluttered to the floor. It was either the sound of yet more paper hitting the floor or his words that stopped her, but either way she froze.
“I’ll pick the bloody things up,” he said with irritation.
She slowly turned around and asked in a quiet voice, “Where did you eat?”
“Shanahan’s. Rib-eye steak. I’m stuffed.” He absentmindedly rubbed his stomach.
“With who?”
“Work people.”
“Who?”
“What’s this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
“No, just a wife asking a husband who he had dinner with.”
“A few guys from the office. You don’t know them.”
“I wish you would have told me.”
“It wasn’t a social thing. Nobody else’s wives were there.”
“I didn’t mean—I’d like to have known so I wouldn’t have bothered cooking for you.”
“Christ, Ruth, I’m sorry you cooked and bought a bloody pie,” he exploded.
“Sssh,” she said, closing her eyes and hoping his raised voice wouldn’t wake the baby.
“No! I won’t sssh!” he boomed. “Okay?” He made his way into the parlor, leaving his shoes in the middle of the hallway and his papers and envelopes strewn across the hall table.
Ruth took another deep breath, turned away from his mess, and made her way to the opposite side of the house.
W HEN L
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