elevator to the twelfth floor, following the signs to her room. With only one bag, she didn’t bother with a bellman.
The fragrance of Martin’s aftershave greeted her when she opened the door, but other than his toiletry kit in the bathroom and his clothes hanging in the closet—as usual, the original neatnik, she’d so often called him—the room bore no trace of her husband. She pushed the button on the phone to retrieve her message.
“I’m running late, so please be ready at six sharp.”
She hung up. No “Glad you made it safely.” No “Welcome to San Francisco.” Don’t waste words. Yes, that was Martin all right. Endeavoring to stay calm, she unpacked and shook out her slinky outfit. Ah, the bliss of “no ironing needed.” Within half an hour, she was dressed with fresh makeup and the sparkly paste jewelry she loved. The only diamond she owned occupied the third finger of her left hand, in a set of rings she’d taken off only when the hospital insisted for the births of her children and for her hernia surgery.
She stared in the mirror. “Andy, m’dear, you clean up real good.” She turned to study all sides. While she wasn’t fat, her size-12 curves didn’t match the current style of skinny and emaciated. She smiled at the face in the mirror. How long since Martin had seen her dressed like this?
With half an hour to go, she thought about leaving a note that would say “Meet me in the bar,” but since she’d never done such a thing before, she figured now was not a good time to start. Instead, she picked up the Guide to San Francisco and flicked through it. A short while later, she heard the key card in the door.
Let the games begin .
“You look striking.” Martin gave her an appreciative once-over.
Andy smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
“I’m really glad you could come.”
Andy saw the opportunity to play her first game piece. “I told you that as soon as the business could afford to hire an employee, I’d hire one. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly.” She had decided not to tell him whom she’d hired, unless he asked, because she knew he wouldn’t see Shari as a real employee. “Of course, it’s just parttime, but if everything works out, I’ll be able to come once a month.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised. “The business is doing that well?”
There was something in his expression and his voice that made an alarm go off in her head. Could he be jealous, as Shari had suggested? Was he one of those men who was intimidated by his wife’s success? She considered her answer carefully and decided to downplay the business, in case he was suffering from a case of green-eyed monster. “It’s doing okay, growing some every day.”
“That’s great,” he said, then gave her a bland smile.
For the first time in their marriage, Andy felt like she needed to tiptoe around Martin. She hoped that by the time Sunday came around and she was on her way home, she would know for certain what was going on with him.
Downstairs at the main entrance, he handed her into the cab the doorman had whistled up. “Masa’s, please.” He gave the driver a piece of paper on which the address had been neatly penned. That was Martin, always paying attention to the smallest detail. The cab roared away from the curb, hung a right, and hit warp speed in thirty feet.
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Andy said, in an effort to ease the strain that she couldn’t help but feel.
“About tomorrow.” Martin cleared his throat. “I thought I would be able to go with you, but—”
“Martin!” Andy interrupted, turning in her seat. “Don’t you dare tell me you have to work.”
He shrugged. “Well, I do.”
She glared at him. “I came here to be with you, not with your bosses, not with your colleagues, and certainly not with some real estate agent.” She turned back around and stared over the front seat, out the driver’s window. Anger boiled just below the flash
The fragrance of Martin’s aftershave greeted her when she opened the door, but other than his toiletry kit in the bathroom and his clothes hanging in the closet—as usual, the original neatnik, she’d so often called him—the room bore no trace of her husband. She pushed the button on the phone to retrieve her message.
“I’m running late, so please be ready at six sharp.”
She hung up. No “Glad you made it safely.” No “Welcome to San Francisco.” Don’t waste words. Yes, that was Martin all right. Endeavoring to stay calm, she unpacked and shook out her slinky outfit. Ah, the bliss of “no ironing needed.” Within half an hour, she was dressed with fresh makeup and the sparkly paste jewelry she loved. The only diamond she owned occupied the third finger of her left hand, in a set of rings she’d taken off only when the hospital insisted for the births of her children and for her hernia surgery.
She stared in the mirror. “Andy, m’dear, you clean up real good.” She turned to study all sides. While she wasn’t fat, her size-12 curves didn’t match the current style of skinny and emaciated. She smiled at the face in the mirror. How long since Martin had seen her dressed like this?
With half an hour to go, she thought about leaving a note that would say “Meet me in the bar,” but since she’d never done such a thing before, she figured now was not a good time to start. Instead, she picked up the Guide to San Francisco and flicked through it. A short while later, she heard the key card in the door.
Let the games begin .
“You look striking.” Martin gave her an appreciative once-over.
Andy smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
“I’m really glad you could come.”
Andy saw the opportunity to play her first game piece. “I told you that as soon as the business could afford to hire an employee, I’d hire one. I just didn’t think it would happen so quickly.” She had decided not to tell him whom she’d hired, unless he asked, because she knew he wouldn’t see Shari as a real employee. “Of course, it’s just parttime, but if everything works out, I’ll be able to come once a month.”
“Really?” He sounded surprised. “The business is doing that well?”
There was something in his expression and his voice that made an alarm go off in her head. Could he be jealous, as Shari had suggested? Was he one of those men who was intimidated by his wife’s success? She considered her answer carefully and decided to downplay the business, in case he was suffering from a case of green-eyed monster. “It’s doing okay, growing some every day.”
“That’s great,” he said, then gave her a bland smile.
For the first time in their marriage, Andy felt like she needed to tiptoe around Martin. She hoped that by the time Sunday came around and she was on her way home, she would know for certain what was going on with him.
Downstairs at the main entrance, he handed her into the cab the doorman had whistled up. “Masa’s, please.” He gave the driver a piece of paper on which the address had been neatly penned. That was Martin, always paying attention to the smallest detail. The cab roared away from the curb, hung a right, and hit warp speed in thirty feet.
“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Andy said, in an effort to ease the strain that she couldn’t help but feel.
“About tomorrow.” Martin cleared his throat. “I thought I would be able to go with you, but—”
“Martin!” Andy interrupted, turning in her seat. “Don’t you dare tell me you have to work.”
He shrugged. “Well, I do.”
She glared at him. “I came here to be with you, not with your bosses, not with your colleagues, and certainly not with some real estate agent.” She turned back around and stared over the front seat, out the driver’s window. Anger boiled just below the flash
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