So, Carl was unaware as well?
“Yeah, it’s great to see you too! Carl? Could you do me a favor, please?”
“Sure! Just ask.”
“Take Adam out on the golf course and kick his butt.”
“My pleasure!” he said as he crossed the parking lot. His seersucker Bermuda shorts hung from his hips just so and his muscular arms were tanned to a tawny shade of maple. Like syrup.
That sure is one well-made man, I thought. I wonder if he tastes like Log Cabin?
Then I giggled at my naughtiness. I was rarely given to lewd thoughts, but at that moment I wanted to (a) know I was still viable and (b) pinch the ever-loving shit out of the inside of Adam Stanley’s upper arm.
For the remainder of the afternoon while I unpacked, the boys swam in the pool under the watchful eyes of Adam, Ted, and Clarabeth. Crank draped herself like an afghan across the back of the sofa in the streaming sunshine, watching me as I came and went. Rufus slept peacefully, curled up in his dog bed by the refrigerator in the kitchen. He was snoring for all the dogs in Charleston County. I thought, Oh, my old sweet friend, you’re not long for this world. I thought about all the times I’d told Rufus my troubles and how he would put his paw in my lap while I wept. And when I had shared good news with him he got up on his hind legs and danced with me. When I sang, Rufus howled. He had lived on my heels since Adam brought him home. He was a rescue, but in truth, he rescued us, bringing so much balance and happiness to us all.
As I put away the balance of the groceries, I wondered for a moment how I would handle Rufus’s eventual demise and especially how would I handle it with the boys. And then, just as quickly as the horrible thought came to me, I pushed it from my mind. I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t bear the idea of life without Rufus.
I could never replace you, I thought, fully realizing the depth of my affection for my dog.
The clock struck five thirty just as I got the boys into clean shorts and T-shirts. They stood at attention while I combed their wet hair into place. I had barely had time for a quick shower to wash away the grime of the sweaty day, but I managed to steal ten minutes while thinking of ways to kill my husband. As the afternoon passed I became more furious, but I kept it inside. Why had Adam lied to me?
“Now go sit quietly and watch television for a few minutes,” I said to the boys.
I went back to my bedroom to finish dressing. Adam was singing like a fool at the top of his lungs in the shower while I threw on a sundress and coiled my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. He was too damn gregarious for the mood I was in. I was giving him the silent treatment and he had yet to notice. It seemed pointless to be mad at him if he didn’t even know I was mad, so I decided to completely ignore him, as though he wasn’t even alive. If I knew anything about men, it was that they hated to be ignored.
I put on a little makeup and sprayed myself liberally with cologne, a gift from my boys on Mother’s Day. It was just a drugstore fragrance, but I wanted the boys to smell it and know that I appreciated the thoughtful gift.
I looked at Adam’s soapy bare backside through the clear shower door and thought, What if I poison him? Then I felt a little bad about indulging in the very idea of doing physical harm to my husband, who’d been, until a couple of hours ago, a pretty great guy. But what was he hiding? How could I trust him? What other lies had he told me? And what wife doesn’t think about murdering her husband from time to time? As much as I didn’t like confrontation, there was going to have to be one. But I would wait for the perfect moment, I thought, and nail him to the wall like a rat.
Clarabeth and Ted arrived at a quarter to six, ringing the doorbell with an overabundance of enthusiasm. I looked at my watch and became more annoyed. I really hated it when people arrived early, but Ted was my father-in-law, so it wouldn’t be nice to complain.
“I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” the twins said, screaming as though Santa himself was standing on our steps in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts holding a big sack of midyear rewards.
“Calm down, boys! Hey, Dad! Clarabeth! Come on in!”
“I brought you boys a sursy!” Clarabeth said. She reached in her purse and produced two Hershey bars. “I never come visiting without a little something for my sweet boys!”
“Yay!” they said. “Thanks, Miss Clarabeth!”
“After supper,” Adam said to them, meaning they couldn’t eat them at that moment. “We’re going next door for pizza. We’re all invited.”
“Really?” Ted said. “That’s awfully nice.”
“But we’ve already eaten our supper,” Clarabeth said. “I just can’t be eating all the time! You know, it’s not good for your health to overeat—”
“Yes, we had a rotisserie chicken and some salad. We can have coffee, Clarabeth. Who’s the neighbor?” Ted said gently as he put his hand on her arm.
Adam could sense a trace of annoyance in his father’s voice. After all, he and Clarabeth had come to have some quality family time.
“Remember that girl I dated in high school? Eve Church?”
“Vaguely . . .”
For the next few minutes I had the pleasure of standing at the top of the stairs, out of sight, and listening to my husband underplay the importance of his relationship with Eve.
Soon we were on the doorstep of Eve and Carl’s place.
“You okay?” Adam whispered to me.
After a pregnant pause, I said, “Of course. What could possibly be the matter?”
“Am I in the naughty chair?” Adam asked.
But he didn’t seem to realize I had picked up on the uncomfortable fact that he and Eve had apparently arranged the reunion without telling anyone else. He looked right into my eyes, which had always looked at him so adoringly, and saw that they were blank. I was saving it for later.
“Why in the world would you be, darling?”
“Oh, God, I’m a dead man, right?”
“Why are you perspiring, dear?” I smiled.
Carl answered the door and we all moved inside. I looked at Adam and I knew at once he was in an adrenaline-induced fog, his mind racing. Everyone was talking at once. Eve was introducing herself to Clarabeth and giving Ted a hug. I realized then that Eve was Cookie’s clone, except taller. Cookie, who was all of five feet and maybe a hundred pounds, had her eye on Adam, which for some reason unknown to me exacerbated his discomfort. And boy, was she decked out in Chanel from head to toe with enough gold bangle bracelets to choke a horse! I’m no fashion expert, but she seemed overdressed for the beach.
Our twins and Daphne shrieked to see each other again and ran to the kitchen to get pizza and a juice box.
“Isn’t this lovely, y’all,” Clarabeth said looking around, taking inventory. “This is so much nicer than our condo! Don’t you think so, Ted?”