Someday Home by Lauraine Snelling Page A

wrinkled her lip at the idea of attending operas on a regular basis. “They are talking of a trip to Italy in June. As he said, they have no time to waste and plan to use up every moment they have left.”
    Judith looked around the kitchen, then poured soap in the dishwasher and shut the door.
    “At least you know how to load a dishwasher. Just push the start button. Every machine is different.”
    “I can clean things, just not cook them fit for human consumption. Where’s Bozo?”
    “Mom asked if he could come stay with her for a bit, until she gets used to her new place, said she feels safer that way.”
    “Someday I want a dog or a cat. Or if I can find a place in the country, I would like chickens, not many, but a rooster and hens. I’ve been reading up on them in magazines, but when I mentioned it to Father, he about leaped out of his wheelchair in total disgust.”
    “Why didn’t you just get some? What could he have done about it?”
    “Made my life miserable.”
    “Miserabler, you mean?”
    “Something like that.” The two adjourned to the family room, where Anselm had started a fire in the fireplace and was placing more chunks of wood on it as they sank into the cordovan leather chairs. Judith heard her cell beep and checked for the message.
    “Oh, good grief, someone broke into the Rutherford House. Mr. Odegaard wants me to come back and identify what might be missing.”
    “Will you go?”
    “No. He has a complete inventory, right down to the canned goods.” She heaved a sigh. “I suppose I should go. Obviously someone needs to be there.” And that someone should be you until they find a caretaker. Guilt was a heavy burden.
    Melody stared right at her and brought her back to the new reality. “Don’t you even think about it!”
    Well, she did think about it. Constantly. But Melody was right. She had not abandoned them; they had abandoned her.

Chapter Nine
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    W ith a divorce pending, income dribbling in and perhaps drying up, Angela had no idea what to do next. The last week had passed in a haze. Yes, she had shown two properties, both private homes. The offer had been accepted on one. The parties were still negotiating on the second house. Her stab at commercial real estate development had failed with only the slightest possibility it might not be dead. Her possibility meter was fast slowing down.
    There was no way she could afford keeping the family home. Jack did not want to buy her out, probably for the same reason. And so she was also getting their home of fifteen years ready for the market. She sent Jack the list of repairs, none of which were major. He had yet to agree to pay for them or do them.
    If Jack wanted the divorce, he was going to have to pay for it.
    One minute she wanted no part of him, to never, ever even see him again. The next she contemplated what she needed to do to bring him back. After those two options, she usually slid into a puddle of tears.
    “Where is your pride, woman?” she demanded of the face in the bathroom mirror as she prepared to go to work. She had informed her assistant, Sandy, of the disaster, then ordered her to show no sympathy or even compassion. That’s the way it had to be to keep their relationship normal with no leaks to anyone else in the office.
    “I’ll try,” Sandy said with a sniff and a swallow, blinking all the while. “But…”
    Angela held up a hand traffic cop–style. “It’s the only way I can maintain.” She dropped her voice. “I need this job and I need to make these sales. And more. I cannot do that giving in to the tears. So please…” She stopped and sniffed before pasting some semblance of a smile on her face. “We can do this. We can.”
    “All right. So be it.” Sandy straightened her shoulders and gave an emphatic nod. One nod. “You have three calls to return, an appointment to show a house at eleven, and an appointment with a possible seller at two.”
    “Thank you.” Angela glanced at her watch. An