The Scarlet Thread (19 page)

along. You bought three tailored suits and half a dozen shirts just

last week. And then you say
I’m
spending too much on clothes!”

“I
work
for a living.”

She froze at the look of contempt on his face.

She worked, too, not that he ever noticed. She drove the children to and from school, sports activities, and doctor and dentist

appointments. She attended parent-teacher meetings and open

houses. She planned menus, shopped, and cooked dinner,

though he was seldom ever home to enjoy it. Who did he think

kept the house neat and clean during the week? A maid? Who

did he think washed and ironed their clothes and saw that his expensive suits were cleaned and hanging neatly in the closet? She

ran the hundred and one errands he gave her every day of her

miserable life, and he never even bothered to say thank you!

Hot tears filled her eyes. “Fine.” Anger and resentment filled

her until she was shaking with it. She got her purse, took out her

wallet, and extracted four credit cards. She tossed them on the

desk.

“What’re you going to do?” Alex said.
“Cry?
That’ll solve a lot,

won’t it!”

“No. I’m going to get a job.”

Alex raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Keep the

cards. Just don’t use them for a while. And forget about getting a

job. I don’t want Steve getting wind of this mess.” He gave a derisive laugh. “What would you find anyway? You’ve got a few

months of business school. Big deal! Any job you’d get would

pay a pittance.” He swore. “Just back off on the club for a while

until I can figure out how to juggle things around and pay some

of these bills down.”

Sierra stood in stony silence. When he left, she cut up the

credit cards and tucked them into the bill box, where he was sure

to find them. Then she called Marcia. “Do you know anyone

who might have a job opening?”

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“I’m sick of being made to feel like a parasite,” she said, her

voice wobbling.

“Did you and Alex have another fight?”

“Do bears live in the forest?”

“I’m sorry, Sierra.”

“I’m tired of this, Marcia. Sick to death of it.” She stopped,

clutching the telephone receiver so tightly her hand ached.

“Ron Peirozo was over yesterday telling Tom he’s in dire need

of a secretary right now. Judy’s baby is due at the end of the

month. Do you have any secretarial training?”

“I went to business college before marrying Alex, but I didn’t

graduate.”

“Well, charity organizations should be charitable.”

“A charity? Didn’t you introduce me to Ron Peirozo a few

months ago at the club?” Sierra said. He didn’t have the appearance of someone working for a charity.

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’d forgotten.” Marcia laughed. “I can

hear what you’re thinking. No, he wasn’t spending charity donations. He has his own money. His grandfather died and left him a

lot of money, as well as a heart for philanthropy. The first thing

Ron did was give several hundred thousand dollars to his alma

mater for scholarships for minority students. Then he set up

Outreach. As long as I’ve known Ron, he’s been involved in

community work of some sort. He’s generous and brilliant. Besides that, his family connections bring him in contact with some

of the most influential and wealthy people in the country. He

could charm money out of the meanest miser and make them feel

good about writing the check.”

“I don’t think he’d be interested in someone like me,” Sierra

said, positive she lacked the qualifications to work for a man like

Ron Peirozo.

“Nonsense. He’s looking for someone to handle office details.

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I’ll call him. If the position’s still open I’ll let you know, and you

can see about making an appointment with him for an interview.”

“I don’t know, Marcia.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You have to take control

of your life.”

Sierra did her grocery shopping and picked up two of Alex’s

suits at the cleaners. On the way home, she stopped by the post

office for more stamps. She’d put the last one on a letter to her

mother this morning.

The telephone was ringing as she came into the kitchen from

the garage. She laid the suits over the counter, deposited a bag of

groceries beside it, and made a lunge for the telephone as it rang

again. “Hello,” she said breathlessly, dumping her purse and

keys on the counter.

“Sierra? Sierra Madrid?”

“Yes,” she said, frowning slightly. The man’s voice was

vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “Speaking.”

“This is Ron Peirozo. Marcia said you might be interested in a

job.”

She felt her face go hot. “Yes,” she said simply, heart thumping

nervously. “I thought I should do something more important

than play tennis and drink iced tea at the club.”

He laughed. “Still beating Marcia?”

She relaxed slightly. “Once in a while, when her guard’s

down.”

“Would it be convenient for you to come in tomorrow morning

for an interview?”

“That would be fine. What time?”

“Nine, unless that’s too early at such short notice.”

“Nine is perfect.”

“I’ll outline the position for you. Once I’ve done that, you may

have second thoughts about working for me.”

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How much did Marcia tell you?”

“Just that you were looking for a job.”

“I went to business college but didn’t finish. Basically, I’ve

been a wife and mother. That’s it.”

He chuckled. “Seems to me that’s a pretty big responsibility.”

“I thought so,” she said dryly. “Some people wouldn’t agree.”

“All right,” he said slowly, mulling over her remark. “Are you

willing to work hard?”

“Yes.”

“Are you willing to learn?”

“Yes.”

“Will you take directions?”

“Yes.”

“Can you type?”

“Yes.”

“Shorthand?”

“Some.”

“You’ve got the qualifications. I’ll see you at nine.”

Alex called at six that evening. “I’m going to be late.” Big

surprise. Dinner was already on the table and the children were

eating. “Steve and I are going over the new promo stuff,” he

went on when she didn’t say anything.

“Do you want me to keep your dinner in the oven?” she said,

proud of how calm she sounded.

“No, thanks. We’ll order something in.”

At ten-thirty she gave up waiting for him and went to bed. She

awakened at one in the morning when she heard the garage door

open. She had left the bathroom light on so he could find his way

around the room.

“Did you and Steve get everything done?” she said groggily,

watching him go into the walk-in closet to take off his clothes.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

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Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he tossed it over a chair and

headed into the master bathroom. She heard him turn on the

shower. The glass door snapped closed. He let the water run so

long, she fell asleep again and didn’t awaken until the alarm went

off at five-thirty.

“Didn’t you reset the alarm?” she said sleepily.

“I’m getting up.”

She brushed some hair back from her face. “You worked until

one o’clock in the morning, Alex. Is Steve turning into a slave

driver?”

He sat up and raked his hands back through his hair. “Steve’ll

be in the office by six-thirty,” he said, his back to her.

She sensed something was wrong. Was it the fight they’d

had yesterday? She’d had time to think things over and cool

down. She reached out to touch him, but before she could, he

got up and left the bedroom. Pushing the comforter back, she

got out of bed, pulled on her robe, and followed. She found

him in the kitchen, watching the stream of coffee filling the

carafe. She knew he was aware of her standing there, but he

didn’t look at her. He pulled the carafe out and poured himself

a cup of coffee.

“What’s wrong, Alex?”

“Nothing,” he said, a muscle clenching in his jaw.

“If it’s the bills, I—”

“Look. I’m tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“You’re still angry with me. You still think it’s my fault.”

He winced. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sierra.”

She could feel him building the wall between them. “You don’t

want to talk about anything, do you?”

He looked at her, his eyes brooding. “Not now.”

“Fine. Maybe this will please you. I have a job interview this

morning. You could wish me luck.” She turned around and

headed for the bedroom before he could see the tears in her eyes.

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not
to get a job!”

She slammed the bedroom door. Dragging in her breath, she

clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and cry at the same

time. What was happening to them? They couldn’t say two sentences to one another without getting into another fight.

Alex came into the bedroom, looking upset. “You don’t have to

go to work. We’ll just cut back on spending until we catch up. I

want you to stay home.”

“Why? So you have a convenient scapegoat? You told me the

bills are my fault, Alex. You said I spend too much on clothes.

You told me when I’m not spending all your money at the club

with my bourgeois friends, I’m sitting around watching soap

operas, reading romances, and feeling sorry for myself!” She

could hardly see through the sheen of hot tears.

“I was mad, Sierra. I said a lot of things. So did you!”

“I’m sick of being made to feel I’m on the dole! You think I

don’t do anything around here. Well, you’re not around to see

what I do! The only thing that matters to you anymore is how

much money a person makes. And I don’t make any, do I, Alex?

So that makes me less than nothing in your eyes.”

He grimaced. “I didn’t say that.”

“You say it every day in a hundred ways.” Her voice cracked.

When he took a step toward her, she took two back. “You were

so worried about what Steve might think if your wife had to get a

job. Well, if I am lucky enough to get this job, you can tell him I

work for a charity organization. Maybe he’ll think I’m volunteering.” She went into the bathroom and locked the door.

Paradoxically, she hoped he’d knock and tell her to come out

so they could talk. She hoped he’d say he was sorry for blaming

her for their financial problems and admit that some of them

were of his own making.

He did neither.

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