A Grand Seduction (23 page)

Fran’s brows hit hairline. “Oh?”

Twyla raised her glass. “I thought we agreed this is a party. No shop talk tonight.”

Fran nodded. “But while we’re all here, I want to go on record saying I think we need more help. Our word of mouth with few words has brought more referrals than we thought. Righting the wrongs of marital injustice is outgrowing our little Cinderella operation.”

“
I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Twyla said. “The more people who know about this, the bigger the risk.”

“
It’s a great idea,” Ridelle said. She drained her glass, then reached for the bottle off her coffee table to pour another. “We can still keep it small scale, but a little help is definitely in order. It can’t always be the three of us doing the wet work.”

Twyla sniffed. “What, I’m not pulling my weight because I won’t cheat on my husband? Isn’t that the sort of thing we’re trying to rid the world of?”

“
I didn’t say that.” Ridelle sighed. “But it’s easier for you to sit back and say we don’t need help. You’re not out in the trenches.”

“
No, it’s not easy.” Twyla set down her glass. “And that’s not all I’m worried about.”

Fran interjected. “Affairs have been going on since the dawn of time. The few women we agreed to help have a vested interest in making sure the truth never comes out.”

Twyla sat forward in her seat. “What about this help you want to hire? How vested will they be if they decide they don’t like the hours or their paycheck is late? No offense, but a woman willing to sell herself isn’t someone I’d trust to let into our core group.” She sat back again with a sigh. “Four already seems to be a crowd.”

Ridelle scowled, a darker flush rising to consume cheeks already pink from warming fire and alcohol. Dominique stared thoughtfully into bubbles rising along the inside of her flute.

“
I don’t think that would happen,” Fran said. Her voice sounded less convincing than the words.

“
Actually, Twyla’s right,” Dominique said. “We can’t trust anyone.”

Ridelle crossed her arms. “I may need money, but I’m not going to personally sleep with the entire seaboard for it.”

Dominique shook her head. “We can still get help.”

“
How?” Fran examined a finger sandwich, as if seeking the answer.

“
We don’t have to bring anyone else into the core group. The women we helped don’t come to our private meetings. They don’t even know who we all are or the exact extent to which we’re involved. It can be the same with those we hire. The need to know will be brief and tight.”

“
Well, they can’t be totally out of the loop,” Twyla argued. “Whether or not they’re on the voting board doesn’t matter. They’ll know who we are, where we are, and pretty much what we’re doing.”

Dominique chewed a ruby lip. “What if they don’t know any of that? Other than what we’re doing, of course. In general terms.”

Ridelle’s eyes narrowed. “How is that possible?”

She shrugged. “It’s not like we have to invite them home for milk and cookies.”

Fran’s eyes glimmered. “We can use fake names.”

Dominique smiled. “Exactly. We’ll hire in New York, rather than our own backyards. Some of the men we target work in the city anyway, so that’ll be convenient.”

Ridelle’s glance reflected confusion. “How would we communicate with these women if they don’t know who or where we are?”

Fran snapped her fingers. “Cell phones,” she said. “We can get those cheapie prepaids and sign up under a fake name.”

The women stared at her, brows up. “My maid has one. She doesn’t have a credit card, so she just buys refill thingies at the liquor store when she needs minutes.”

Dominique blinked. “Frannie, my dear, I do believe you’ve just sprouted a whole new side of devious.”

Ridelle laughed. “With fake info and no credit card to track, even if someone did spill her guts no one would know who hired her.”

“
I suppose,” Twyla said.

“
How would we find someone?” Fran asked. “It’s not like we can post a want ad.”

“
I have a couple ideas about that,” Dominique said. “Still, we won’t get help fast enough for our current jobs. Volunteers?” She waggled her brows.

“
I vote for you,” Ridelle said. “Why not experience the wonder that is taking a man down with your own body parts?”

The woman shrugged. “Might not be impossible. The one guy prefers blonds, though. Fran?”

“
I’m a bit soured at the moment. How about Ridelle in a wig?”

“
Hey, I’m three to your two and Dom’s zero. You guys need to catch up. I’d like to experience a real date one of these days, you know.”

“
Finally going to take Ronald out for a spin?” Dominique smiled.

“
Ha-ha. I just mean in general. Too much intrigue is bad for my complexion.”

“
Which brings us back to needing help.” Dominique pulled a lipstick tube from her black Fendi. She looked at each in turn, dark eyes fastening on Twyla last. “Keep your peepers open, ladies. If you come up with anyone, feel free to save the day.”

It was nearly eight o’clock before Twyla’s phone rang, as she stood folding laundry at the foot of her bed. Not that it had been the first time. Tyler’s teacher called to remind her about the permission slip for his field trip, the pediatrician’s office had to change Cody’s appointment on Thursday, and Andy’s mother called wondering if Twyla could be an absolute angel and make sure Andy’s good suit was dry cleaned before his niece’s wedding. As if Twyla couldn’t take care of her own husband without his mother’s intervention. Still, this was the first time the phone had rung all day with Andy’s number on the caller ID. His work number, meaning he wasn’t on the way home yet.

Keeping herself in check to rein irritation in from becoming full-blown annoyance, she draped the undershirt she was folding over her forearm and picked up the handset.

“
I know, I know,” he blurted before she managed a hello. “Sorry, honey.”

The hospital noise in the background was more insistent than usual, and Andy’s voice was infused with fatigue and apology. A flinch of guilt dulled her annoyance. His job wasn’t an easy one, after all. “You missed Cody’s soccer practice again.”

“
I tried to get there. But we had three full arrests and a difficult intubation—and those were the fun parts. I’ll make it up to him on Saturday.”

She sank onto the bed. “Saturday is the wedding.”

“
Oh. Right. Damn. Sunday, then.”

Here we go again. “Karate tournament.”

“
I know that. Tyler’s dying to bring home that trophy.” He exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Damn.”

“
What?”

“
They’re short staffed in E.R. on Sunday. I said I’d fill in.”

Twyla threw the undershirt down on the bed. “Andy, you can’t. He’s been looking practicing for months.”

“
He won’t have to miss it just because I’m not there. You’ll take him.”

“
Yes, but he’s been looking forward to having his father watch.”

“
And I will. Videotape it, and we’ll have a movie-and-popcorn party later.”

Her patience rapidly dwindled. “You can tell the hospital no once in a while. They have other staff.”

But she heard him shift the phone away, followed by a muffled conversation on the other end. Twyla fiddled with her engagement ring, dislodging the top heavy diamond from its preferred spot between ring finger and pinkie.

Andy’s voice returned. “I’ll be right there.” Then to Twyla, “Sorry. It’s ten shades of chaos here. I just wanted to tell you it’ll be a good four more hours before I get out of here tonight. Don’t wait up.”

She was almost feeling peevish enough to mention she never did anymore. She twisted her diamond ring around her finger. “I’ll leave on the service porch light.”

“
Sleep tight.”

“
You too. When you get home, I mean.” She paused. “Love you.”

“
Me too.”

When they hung up, Twyla’s private reverie was immediately disrupted by a shriek bearing her name down the hall.

“
Mom!”

“
Don’t listen to her! I didn’t do it.”

“
Did so.”

Glancing at the tower of unfolded laundry, Twyla exhaled and strode out to meet two of her children in the hall. “What’s all this?”

Jenna, her oldest and only daughter, pointed at her brother. “Cody used my good skating nylons to tie up the corners of his blanket tent.”

“
Did not!”

“
Mom, tell him to stop going in my room.” Jenna fisted her hands on the hips of two-piece flannel Dora the Explorer pajamas, matching slippers with Dora heads completing the ensemble. Somehow, the look couldn’t detract from the girl’s grim demeanor.

Meanwhile, Cody was shaking a freckled head, a cowlick sticking up with static from pulling on a sweater bobbing to and fro. “They weren’t in your room; they were in the bathroom hamper. Besides, I didn’t take your dumb girlie-hose.”

“
Did too. Now they’re stretched out and tied so tight that I can’t get them unloosed.”

“
Both of you stop,” their mother said. The faint stirrings of another headache came. “Cody, into the bath and do not touch your sister’s things without permission. Jenna, let’s try to untie those tights. If not, I’ll have to cut them loose.”

The girl looked ready to faint. “Mom! You wouldn’t.”

Twyla shot her raised brows. “You’ve got a dozen pairs. If one gets sacrificed, I think your skating career will survive.” To Cody’s get-out-of-jail-free grin she said, “I’ll take it out of your brother’s allowance, of course.”

The grin faded. “No way! That’s not fair.”

“
Sounds completely fair to me.”

He thumbed his chest. “I can untie them, easy. They’re not that tight.”

Twyla acted surprised, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She believed in letting kids think they came up with their own brilliant solutions. “Good idea”

Her daughter’s voice turned to a whimper. “Those are the ones I want to wear to the wedding Saturday.”

Cody crossed his chubby arms. “Do I have to go to that dumb wedding? I want to go over to Petie’s.”

“
Of course you’re going,” his mother said. “You’re the ring bearer.” She turned to her daughter. “You and I can go shopping tomorrow for some nylons to go with your flower girl dress. Real nylons, not just tights.”

The girl sucked in a breath, eyes firing like sparklers. “Real grown-up ones?”

Twyla smiled and gave a sassy nod. “Yep.”

She turned to Cody. “You’re lucky, then. I don’t need those ratty old tights.”

“
Not so fast,” Twyla said. “Cody’s still on unknotting duty after his bath.”

“
Okay.” He drew out the “y” with an annoyed grumble attached.

Twyla allowed herself a tight smile. Another avalanche halted mid-slide. “Sissy, help me with the dishes?”

The girl’s blue eyes widened. “Ooh, that was the other thing I was coming up to tell you. Tyler said he was going to do them. I tried to tell him he was too little.”

Her tattletale was interrupted by a distant crash. Brief silence followed, then a wail that sent Twyla’s heart straight to her throat. Her feet propelled her downstairs on autopilot, and when she made it to the kitchen, her pounding pulse skipped a beat at the sight of her youngest sprawled on the floor near the open dishwasher. A jagged mosaic of broken dishware lay in pieces around him.

Blood was everywhere. She gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, no, baby! What happened?”

Racing to him, she ignored the crunch of glass under her thin canvas deck shoes as she bent over the crumpled child. Tears squirted from his sockets with primal force as Tyler squealed. The sound stabbed at her stomach, and Twyla felt stinging tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes as well.

“
My knee hurts,” he sobbed. “I fell.”

The knee in question was slashed open like a mouth, yawning open in a ghastly grin. The maw was weeping blood profusely.

“
Let me see,” Jenna said, rushing forward.

“
Stay back,” Twyla commanded. “There’s broken glass.”

She reached out to examine the injury, sending the boy’s wail upward into a shriek. “I just want to look, sweetie. I won’t touch it.”

“
No!”

His sister edged forward. “Eew. He got blood all over the dishwasher.”

Twyla ignored the girl. “Tyler, what were you doing?”