Thy Neighbor's Wife (12 page)

admit he knew by heart. Even at that early hour he was not sur-

prised when somebody picked up.

“Sensations,” a pleasant and familiar female voice answered,

her tones sounding intimate and affecting even on the speaker-

phone.

“Good morning, Stacy. This is Eric Smith.”

“Well, good morning, Mr. Smith. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to set up a meeting for this afternoon, if possible.”

“Certainly, sir. Will that be with your usual contact?”

“If she’s available, that would be great.”

“She is. At your regular conference area?”

“Please.”

“What time works for you, sir?”

“Two?”

“Two it is. Shall I use the card on file?”

“That’s fine. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your meeting.”

He pressed the button to disconnect the call. He simulta-

neously felt guilt at his own dishonesty and thrilling excitement at

his impending “meeting.” The thought of the small, shapely,

blonde—so physically like Jennifer, but willing to do so much

more—writhing beneath him and calling his name aroused him to

the point where it was almost painful. He stepped on the gas and

zipped past an eighteen-wheeler, the speed only adding to his exhil-

aration.

* * *

The morning was beautiful and clear on the lake and Jennifer

62 Georgia Beers

took her tea out onto the deck to breathe in the clean air and listen

to the lapping of the water. The air was a bit cool, but the sound

was calming and she let it wash over her, taking some of her stress

and worries with it.

Eric had been up, showered, dressed, and on his way to work

very early. He’d been distant and quiet all through the breakfast

she’d fixed him. The Eric she’d seen the night before had vanished,

just as she’d suspected he would.

She refused to dwell on the growing problems in her marriage,

though in reality, she knew she should have concentrated on them

more. Avoidance was the absolute wrong way to handle a dilemma,

but that’s what she’d always done. This is too hard to deal with, so I

just…won’t. Somehow, the fact that she knew that’s what she did,

didn’t seem to help or make her attempt to change things and she

was often frustrated by her own pigheadedness.

She had always found that the best way to avoid a problem was

to focus on something completely different. So, that morning, she

contemplated her house, the one thing in her life that she was happy

with, the one thing bringing her any sort of pleasure. She went

inside and decided her next project would be the master bedroom.

Hell, she thought. If I’m going to spend most of my time in it alone,

I can at least decorate it so it suits me.

As was her modus operandi, she pulled up a chair and sat in

the doorway, simply studying the room, getting a feel for the size,

the scope, the possibilities…trying to envision what she’d like it to

be, how she’d like it to look from the doorway—the place anybody

would be standing when they saw it for the first time. It was a large

rectangle with a master bath off to the left. That room, having been

recently remodeled, was in fantastic shape and—much to Jennifer’s

delighted surprise—didn’t need any help from her. Its Jacuzzi bath-

tub and white, ceramic tile floors were precisely what she would

have picked. The bedroom itself, however, was very bland: off-white

walls, off-white molding, and off-white mini-blinds. The hardwood

floor was the only saving grace, the only thing that held any charac-

ter. Jennifer had already decided that she liked the idea of varying

shades of purple and she’d used it as an accent color in the bath-

room. She was fond of the concept of carrying that into the bed-

room to tie the two rooms together, so she examined the space

carefully, envisioning what she thought might work and tossing

away ideas that didn’t quite seem to fit.

As she sat there, she remembered seeing a room she’d fallen in

love with in one of the many design and home improvement maga-

zines she’d become addicted to. She jumped up and ran downstairs,

opened the bottom cabinets of a shelf in the living room and

groaned at what had to be twenty-five or thirty various magazines.

Thy Neighbor’s Wife 63

She pulled them all out, situated herself on the floor, and flipped

through page after page until she yelped with relief, finally finding

the one she was looking for.

She glanced at the clock, then did a double take. She was

utterly shocked to realize that two and a half hours had gone by

since she’d started her search. Her legs shrieked at her when she

uncurled them from beneath her and stood up from the floor. She

carefully marked the correct page in the magazine and cursed her-

self for not doing so the first time. She stretched slowly, allowing

the blood to reintroduce itself to her deprived limbs. With a now

clear picture in her head of the way she wanted the bedroom to

look, she stepped out onto the deck to get some fresh air.

It was still clear, but the temperature had risen considerably

and the sun beat warmly down on her hair. She could see three

boats drifting lazily on the water, fishing rods protruding into the

air. She leaned her forearms onto the railing of the deck and

watched them rock gently on the easy waves, letting the peace of the

lake embrace her.

The quiet was interrupted by the clang of metal coming from

her right. She glanced in that direction and saw Alex, standing with

her hands on her hips, surveying a pile of supplies she’d dumped on

the ground at her feet next to her garage. Jennifer watched her for

several minutes as she looked at the pile, then up at the blank side

of the garage, then down, then back up again. She went inside, but

reappeared several minutes later with a toolbox and a large ham-

mer. Jennifer smiled as her curiosity got the better of her.

“Building an addition?” she called with a wry grin.

Alex turned, then smiled, happy to see Jennifer. “Yup. I’ve

decided to fulfill my life-long dream of being a landlady, so I’m

adding an apartment.”

“Need some help?” Jennifer asked hopefully as she

approached.

“Four hands are better than two, or so I’ve been told.”

“I’ve heard the same thing. What kind of apartment are we

making?” She looked at the pile, which consisted of six large steel

stakes and a sizable roll of wire fencing, all green.

“The fenced-in kind. I took your advice and I’ve decided to

make a sort of run for Kinsey. Like a kennel, but a bit bigger, sort of

like his own miniature play area. This way, he can be outside all

damn day if he wants and I won’t have to worry about finding his

squished little body on the roadside.”

“And how does he feel about this kennel thing?” Jennifer

teased.

“Well, you see, that’s the beauty of this relationship. I’m the

human and therefore, the boss. He has no say and he knows it.”

64 Georgia Beers

The kennel was by no means going to be anything extravagant.

The equipment Alex had chosen was akin the items she’d purchase

if she was looking to fence in a garden or protect a large bush. With

Kinsey’s small size, though, and short, stubby legs, she knew it

would be perfect. She just needed something to contain him, some-

thing tall enough that he couldn’t jump over it, and something

sturdy enough that he couldn’t knock it down by jumping against it.

The fencing she’d picked was just right and she felt good about it.

Both women were surprised by how well they worked together,

especially Jennifer. She thought about how she and Eric rarely did

projects together around the house because they never seemed to be

on the same wavelength. He was never able to see her vision of

things and she was frustrated by his overly perfectionist ways of

operating. They usually ended up at each other’s throats, so they’d

decided to avoid such pairings all together. Jennifer did the decorat-

ing, Eric did the repair work, and it seemed to be the right solution.

Things were different with Alex, though. It was like they only

had one mind. She handed Alex tools before she asked for them,

Alex nodded in agreement before Jennifer even finished her sugges-

tions. Because of the lack of conflict, the sense of accomplishment

seemed that much stronger when they finally stood straight and sur-

veyed the finished product.

“Not bad, Ms. Foster. Not bad at all.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Mrs. Wainwright. Nice

work. And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Shall we introduce the king to his new castle?”

“Absolutely.”

Alex went in to fetch Kinsey, who eyed the fence warily. They

had even constructed a primitive gate for easy access, but since the

fence was only four feet high, Alex simply bent over it and set him

in. He wandered around a little bit, sniffing the ground and lifting

his leg on several of the stakes, reluctantly marking them as his.

After three or four minutes, he sat directly in the middle of the area,

facing the women, and simply stared at his owner. Alex pressed her

lips together with worry and Jennifer had to stifle a laugh.

“Oh, he is not happy with me. Not happy at all.”

“You think?” Jennifer teased.

“See how his ears are back and he’s looking at me, but not

really? Like I don’t deserve a full stare? That’s how I can tell. Those

are sure signs.”

Jennifer was grinning at Alex’s obvious distress. “Sure signs of

what?”

“He’s pissed at me.”

Jennifer pressed her finger to her lips, the laughter threatening

Thy Neighbor’s Wife 65

to burst forth, and just nodded. Alex picked up the nod and they

stood there like a couple of bobble-heads, nodding away.

“Oh, yeah. He’s annoyed.” Alex turned to Jennifer, cocking an

eyebrow at the expression on her face. “Are you laughing at me?”

The tone of her voice was light; she was well aware of the humor of

the situation.

“You know,” Jennifer responded in the most matter-of-fact

voice she could manage, “I’ve heard of a person being pussy-

whipped, but the idea of being poochy-whipped is a totally new

concept for me.”

Alex stood quietly for several seconds, simply blinking at her

friend. When she finally did speak, she tried hard for “low and

menacing.” Instead, it came out more like “trying hard not to burst

into hysterical laughter.” “Are you saying I’m ruled by my dog?”

“Well, let me think for a minute.” Jennifer tapped a finger

against her lips, looking up into the sky. “Um, yeah. I’d say that’s

exactly what I think.”

Alex dropped her head, shaking it shamefully, her voice a

mock-sob. “It’s true! It’s true! My dog is my life. I am a pathetic

human being. Please shoot me now.”

They both broke into laughter. Kinsey was obviously not

amused, as he continued to stare at them, only serving to make

them laugh harder. Once they had collected themselves, they took a

closer look at the kennel, just to make sure it didn’t need any final

adjustments.

“Hm. I’m not sure I like this.” Alex was near the garage wall

where she had driven a stake into the ground. It was about an inch

and a half away, leaving a space between the stake and the wall. “I

got this as close as I could, but I’m afraid if he decided to work at

it, he could worm his way through here. He’s pretty smart.”

“I bet they make some sort of bracket thingie for that,” Jennifer

offered. “You know what I mean? Like a horseshoe-shaped piece of

wire or something that will pull the stake closer and close up that

space.”

Alex nodded as the item Jennifer described became clear in her

mind. “I think a trip to Chase-Pitkin is in order. Care to join me?”

Chapter

Eight

Chase-Pitkin was Rochester’s local version of Home Depot.

There was one in almost every suburb and they housed everything

from lumber and gardening equipment to furniture and birdseed.

They had definitely felt the pinch since Home Depot had arrived in

the area a few years before, but much to the surprise of many peo-

ple, Chase- Pitkin managed to hold its own and stay in business.

Despite the fact that Home Depot was a nationwide chain and

thereby had some better pricing on many items, Chase Pitkin

employed hundreds of local people, and Alex tried to give them her

support whenever she could.

Having Jennifer along for the ride was a pleasant surprise.

When Alex woke up that morning and decided to build a kennel for

Kinsey, she hadn’t expected to have help or company—and cer-

tainly not such charming company. She realized that the more time

she spent with Jennifer, the more time she wanted to spend with

her. She was funny and clever and amusing and Alex hadn’t enjoyed

just simply being with somebody in a long, long time. The only per-

son who came close was Jackie and they’d been best friends for

more than ten years. Alex got a happy little tingle when she thought

of being such great friends with Jennifer, too.