Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap by Cynthia Hamilton Page B

office. Madeline stood and took the proffered debit card, placing it back in her wallet while the manager fumbled over himself trying to smooth over the incident.
    “It’s no problem, Mr. Bowen,” she said as she moved toward the door. “It’s all forgotten. Could you please have my car brought around? I’m running behind now.”

    It was all Madeline could do to keep her impulses in check and keep her Porsche somewhere within ten miles of the speed limits. Her embarrassment had given way to pure, black hatred and a hankering for revenge. She took the surface roads to the fitness club, and was surprised by the number of cars on the road so early. She parked in the almost full lot and went inside.
    The club was like a city within a city. Members and staff were everywhere: the squash courts were thrumming with the constant thwak and thump of balls and the occasional muffled curse. Madeline waited her turn at the reception counter, as members received towels and locker keys.
    “Good morning,” a college-aged employee greeted her. Madeline returned the salutation and told the girl she wanted to become a member. This caused the girl’s face to cloud over. “I’m sorry, the sales staff doesn’t arrive until ten.” Madeline grimaced and let out a weary sigh. This day was not starting well.
    “Isn’t there anyone who can help me?” The girl shook her head apologetically. Madeline looked at her watch, not bothering to hide her irritation. It was quarter to eight.
    “Let me just get this man his key. Hi Eric! How’s it going? Good! Have a nice day. Sorry about that,” the girl said, feeling the ire exuding from Madeline and heading her way.
    “Can I just have a form to fill out and then bring it back later—save a little time…?” The girl wobbled her head sadly.
    “I’m sorry, but we don’t have access to those forms. But if you come back between ten and four, there will be someone here who can help you.” Madeline’s gaze had wandered while she listened to this unwelcome news. She was searching for some way to salvage the time spent on the trip over.
    “Is there someone who can show me the facilities, so I can make sure I really want to join?”
    “Oh sure—one of us can do that,” the girl replied happily. She looked at her coworkers who had become subliminally aware of the situation.
    “I can do it,” another twenty-something said, abandoning the report she was running. “Give me one sec,” she said before disappearing to the back. She returned a moment later with brochures and motioned for Madeline to follow her.
    “Hi, my name’s Stacy,” she said as she walked briskly down the hallway. Madeline smiled politely and told Stacy her first name.
    After a cursory run-through of the facilities—which were much larger than they appeared from the exterior—Stacy showed Madeline the women’s locker room and showers. Madeline thanked her for the tour and said she’d be back later to sign up.
    At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time, Madeline thought as she got back into her car. Now she’d be able to skip all that later. But the real question would be if she could be back before four o’clock. She glanced at her watch: 8:01. She searched for Barry Houstien’s number and hoped her luck would start to improve.
    “Houstien Marcus & Winthorpe,” a curt, professional voice announced. “How may I direct your call?”
    “I’d like to make an appointment with Mr. Houstien.”
    “And your name, please?”
    “Madeline Ridley.”
    “I’ll connect you to Mr. Houstien’s assistant. One moment, please.” Madeline thanked the abrupt silence and waited to find out what the next hurdle would be. After four minutes filled with anxious ponderings, a woman’s soft voice came on the line.
    “This is Ms. Wendt. I’m Mr. Houstien’s personal assistant. Am I speaking to Ms. Ridley?”
    “Mrs. Ridley. Madeline Ridley. Soon to be the ex-Mrs. Steven Ridley.”
    “How can I help you, Mrs. Ridley?”