Classic Revenge (2 page)

She was slowing down now-there was no point
denying it but at seventy-two she figured she had
earned the right not to have to race through each day
hoping to get through a to-do list. Since their retirement
three years ago, though, life had definitely gotten easier.
With a full-time housekeeper and a full-time social
calendar, she and Sam were enjoying the fruits of their
labor. Just as it should be.

Susan dropped her robe, walked barefoot across the
marble floor, and stepped into the tub, sinking into the
hot, fragrant water with a sigh. Today was a special day,
one she was looking forward to immensely. With their
housekeeper, Claire, at the grocery store and Sam at his
weekly golf game, she would pamper herself with a long
soak in the tub, give herself a facial, manicure and pedicure, and then get her hair done before meeting Shelley
Rivers, her sister-in-law, for lunch. But this evening was
what she was most excited about. Tonight, she and Sam
would be celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary.
Sam had told her to dress up for dinner. He would be
taking her someplace special. It was amazing to her
how, after forty years, every moment with Sam was still special, a fact she thanked God for each and every day.
He couldn't have blessed her with a better man.

Susan leaned back and closed her eyes, her mind aimlessly conjuring up her wardrobe as she wondered what
she would wear that night. Maybe she would buy something new, something in blue perhaps, Sam's favorite
color. She heard the bathroom door open before she
had made up her mind whether it would be a dress or a
pantsuit, but she smiled anyway. Sam must have planned
an earlier surprise. It would be just like him to cancel his
golf game to spend the day with her. An expression of
love and welcome softened her face as she slowly opened
her eyes.

At first she couldn't see the shape clearly. The tulip
lighting cast shadows onto the velvet-covered wall.
Suddenly, her smile vanished and her eyes opened wide
in shock. There was a stranger walking toward her. No,
not a stranger, her mind registered-this was someone
vaguely familiar ...

Susan sat up straight, the water sloshing over the side
of the tub. She tried to release the scream bubbling in
the back of her throat as she watched something being
plugged into the wall socket. She saw the evil grin and
the glittering eyes at the same time that she realized
something electrical was going to be tossed into the water. She tried to scramble out of the slippery tub, but
there wasn't enough time.

Why? her mind screamed silently, her mouth forming a word that made no sound-but she would never
know the answer to her last question.

Wth a clarity born out of months of self-deception,
Trish Anderson knew the moment of truth had arrived.
She either faced her personal demons here and now, or
she would forever be wondering what if. She sat quietly
at her kitchen table, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her
gaze glued to the opening into her living room where it
would all begin.

It was a beautiful clear morning, the sun already
warming the air. Birds chirped their singsong messages,
lawnmowers roared across yards that desperately needed
care after the weeks of rain the month of May always
seemed to bring, and dogs barked ferocious warnings
to passersby on the sidewalks. Trish usually started Saturday mornings quite late. She would sit at the kitchen
table with coffee and a chocolate doughnut ... or two,
still in her pajamas while she struggled with the daily
crossword puzzle in the paper. But this wasn't a usual
Saturday morning.

The closed windows shut out the noise and the drawn
blinds shut out the light. It was so quiet she could actually hear herself breathe. Her eyes darted quickly to the
refrigerator but she pulled them away with a sigh. It
didn't take a degree in psychology to know why she
was hesitating. It was going to take a lot of sacrificing
to reach her goal. And there was no point denying itshe wasn't big on sacrifices.

Well, time to bite the bullet, as they said. Taking a
deep breath, she stood up and rolled her head from side
to side to loosen the tension that was beginning to creep
up the back of her neck. She could claim a headache, go
back to bed, and postpone the inevitable, but the thought
of having to mentally gear up for this moment again had
her placing one foot in front of the other as she steadily
made her way to the living room.

Trish now stood courageously in front of her tormenter, the cold, black steel contraption, and once more
studied the many features of the new exercise equipment. She wasn't stalling. She was downright intimidated. Apparently it did everything from trimming your
waist and thighs to performing major organ transplants.
But which of the many gadgets attached to the machine
did what? Flipping through the accompanying manual
last night had been no help; it may as well have been
written in Japanese. She preferred the hands-on approach anyway. "Learn as you go" was her motto. Well,
now it was time to put her hands on and start learning.

Trish straightened her spine and strengthened her resolve. First, she'd do the thing where you sat down and
pushed the pedals with your feet. It was supposed to tone
your calves and thighs while adding muscle. It looked
safe-and besides, her legs could definitely do with a workout. Pleased, she nodded to herself and hiked her
leg up to maneuver onto the bicycle seat. That's when
the loud peal of her doorbell shattered the quiet.

Startled, she screamed before she could stop herself,
the leg she was balancing on almost buckling beneath
her. Taking a calming breath, she glared resentfully at
the torture device. "Safe and easy, my butt!" she muttered under her breath as she regained her balance.
"You were saved by the bell, you lucky heap of metal,
but you haven't beaten me. I will be back." Tossing her
head defiantly, she turned toward the door.

Was it fate or just plain coincidence that the minute
she decided to knock off a few pounds the doorbell
would ring? With her luck, it was probably a cute little
Girl Scout selling those mouth-watering mint cookies.
Ten boxes, please ...

Trish closed her eyes tightly for a minute and repeated
the mantra, "I will be strong, I will be strong!" But her
pep talk was interrupted when the blasted doorbell rang
again.

"I'm coming," she yelled rudely. "Hold your horses!"
Flinging the door open, she scowled at a tiny woman
wearing jeans, a red sweatshirt, red tennis shoes, and
a red bandana tied across her forehead, and another
woman, immaculate in a turquoise sweatsuit, not a silver hair out of place. Definitely not Girl Scouts. "What
do you want?"

"Good morning to you too," Millie Morrow, the lady
in red, said cheerfully as she pushed her way inside,
Edna Radcliff following close behind. "Got any coffee?"

Trish slammed the door shut. "It's eight o'clock in
the morning. You know I have coffee," she said, rolling
her eyes and following them into the kitchen.

"Not since you've gotten on this crazy health kick,
I don't. Bet you don't have any doughnuts, though, do
you?" Millie opened a cabinet and pulled out two coffee
cups.

"Millie! You are going to undo all the good our walk
did this morning if you keep eating junk in the mornings."

"Hasn't killed me yet" She peered at Edna through
silver wire-framed glasses. Her message was clear:
Mind your own business!

"It's a moot point because I don't have any doughnuts," Trish said breezily, sounding anything but sorry
as she flopped into a chair, resigning herself to a visit
with her friends whom she normally loved but would
gladly kill right now.

Millie glanced in the living room and raised her eyebrows at Trish. "You know, you could go jogging with
me in the mornings if you're so gung-ho on this exercise thing. Edna came this morning and she's already
talking about how much better she feels"

Edna nodded eagerly and reached for the coffee Millie brought over to the table. "That's right, dear. I do
feel better."

"Millie, you are eighty years old and-"

"And proud of it," she said, pulling out a chair and
sitting down. "You should hope you look as good as I
do when you're my age. Of course, I didn't wait until I
was over the hill before I started jogging. Edna is sixtyfive and you're forty-eight-not exactly spring chickens, if you know what I mean."

Trish sighed. "As I was saying, you're eighty years
old, and you don't jog. You just walk fast around the
block, and the only reason you do that is to snoop on all the neighbors. You don't need the exercise." Millie was
a trim five feet flat and as energetic as a twenty-yearold baseball player, a fact that irritated Trish to no end.
Millie was also the neighborhood gossip. Having lived
in the area of Grand River, Texas, for most of her adult
life, she knew everybody ... and their business.

Grand River is a small suburb right outside of San
Antonio, Texas. An exaggeration, really, because as
Millie puts it, you can stand on one block in Grand
River and spit, hitting an area legally taxed by the City
of San Antonio. The main thoroughfare is a speed trap
for the unsuspecting, chaning speed limits every few
miles which provides most of the income for the small
city.

Trish had moved there four years before with her nowex-husband because she dearly loved the area. The street
she lived on had older, huge southern-style homes and
acre-size lots. Giant oak trees lined both sides of the
street, their strong branches forming a shady arch that
was magnificent in the summer, but a royal pain in the
spring when the leaves fell.

Millie lived right across the street and was the first
neighbor Trish had met when she'd moved in. Charmed
by the older woman's independent personality, they
had become fast friends. Millie was stubborn and opinionated, but loyal to a fault. She had proven that when
Trish divorced her husband. And Millie was the one
who'd introduced Trish to Edna and Joe Radcliff, the
wealthiest-and sweetest-couple on the block; they
were thoughtful and easygoing, always seeing the positive side of things and more than willing to offer a helping hand where they could.

Millie and Edna were as close as sisters, even though Millie teased her unmercifully, calling her a Pollyanna.
Yes, they were good friends with a lot in common, except when it came to national politics. In fact, the only
time Edna ever lost her patience was when Millie
would goad her into a discussion about a political issue.
But Millie was a troublemaker-a loveable troublemaker, but a troublemaker just the same.

Millie stirred sugar into her coffee. "So what do you
think about your new miracle inches-off contraption?"
she asked, nodding toward the living room.

Trish shrugged. "I don't know yet. But it's not a
miracle-off anything. It's still going to take a lot of
hard work to get back in shape. The problem is that I'm
scared to death of it. I just know I'm going to climb on
the blasted thing and end up doing a back flip off it."

Millie chuckled. "I know what you mean. I got one of
those stationary bicycle things a few years back. Thought
I was doing great until the pedals started going so darn
fast and I couldn't stop it. I must've lost a hundred
pounds on that one occasion alone. I sold it at a garage
sale the next month. But, hey, at least you're dressed for
the part," she said, her lips twisting into a grin.

Trish looked down at her new exercise outfit the sales
lady at Sears had told her was absolutely perfect, right
down to the black leg warmers. "What's wrong with my
outfit?"

"Nothing at all is wrong with it," Edna said, patting
her arm comfortingly.

"Oh, come on, Edna," Millie scolded. "Trish needs to
hear the truth. Do you really want her going out in public
like that? You'd be as embarrassed as I would, and don't
bother denying it.

"Trish, dear, you need to wait to wear those shiny leo tards and that elastic belt until you're over the donelap
disease."

"The what?" Edna asked.

"The donelap disease-you know, it's when your fat
`done lapped' over your waistline."

"Millie!" Edna exclaimed.

"It's okay, Edna," Trish said hurriedly before a fullscale war broke out. Edna must have missed the twinkle
in Millie's eyes. "We know Millie is exaggerating. She
doesn't embarrass that easily."

Millie laughed. "Of course I'm kidding. I know you
want to get in shape and have more energy, but you don't
have that big a problem. You've been carrying on like
you're a two-ton Annie, and you're not. A little firming
up here and there," she said pointedly, peering at Trish's
butt over the rim of her eyeglasses, "and you'll be in
shape in-no-time."-

"You look just fine, dear," Edna said, slanting her eyes
at Millie in warning. "Anyone who is trying to improve
their health can wear whatever they please and I'm proud
of you."