Marriage Can Be Murder -- Every Wife Has A Story (A Carol and Jim Andrews Baby Boomer Mystery) (4 page)

Chapter 4

My husband and I promised

to stick together through thick and thin.

My thickening waistline and his thinning hair.

The irony of Nancy’s dramatic announcement, compared with Mark and Jenny’s decision to hire a professional wedding planner, washed over me like a tsunami. Timing is, indeed, everything, and I mentally canceled any plans to throw myself a “Woe is me; my daughter doesn’t want me to help with her wedding” party.

How could I be so selfish, when my best friend ever since third grade was in so much pain?

I knelt down and threw my arms around her. She began to sob quietly. I held her for what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than five minutes. Then my right knee started to throb, and I had to change position.

“Nance, I’m sorry, but I can’t stay in this position this anymore. My knees are killing me.”

I struggled to get to my feet without dislodging my right hand from Nancy’s shoulders. If you think that was an easy move, think again.

My rear end hit the floor, followed immediately by the rest of me. Unfortunately, Deanna’s apartment had hardwood floors.

In a flash, Mary Alice and Claire were beside me and pulled me upright. Deanna had apparently made a discreet exit.

“Good thing I have some extra padding these days,” I said, massaging my backside and trying not to cry myself.

I nodded my head toward Nancy and mouthed, “Your turn” to Claire and Mary Alice. I could see Nancy’s shoulders were still shaking.

It turned out she was howling, all right. But from giggles, not sobs. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen since our junior prom, when the zipper on your gown came apart while you were doing The Twist with Richie Donnelly. Do you remember that, Carol? The dress started to fall down. You were mortified, and ran into the girls’ bathroom to see if it could be fixed.”

I was glad Nancy was feeling better. But her reminding me of a time I’d been publicly humiliated, well, that brought back a flood of unpleasant memories I’d suppressed for years. I wasn’t exactly Miss Popularity with the boys back then, and getting a date for our high school junior prom had been a major achievement for me. Which ended in disaster.

“Nancy, honey,” Claire said, turning the spotlight off me and back on Nancy, “now that you’re feeling better, do you want to tell us any more about what happened between you and Bob? It might help to talk about it, and you know we want to help you any way we can.”

“Here, Nancy,” said Mary Alice, slipping into her nurse’s role and handing her a glass of ice water. “You shouldn’t talk right now. You’ve had a major shock. Sitting quietly for a few minutes is the best thing for you. We’ll leave you alone.”

“Too bad this is water and not wine,” Nancy said, taking a sip of the water. “It’s got to be five o’clock somewhere in the world, even if it’s only nine-thirty in the morning here.”

She ran her fingers through her uncombed hair. “I’ve been up all night. I must look a mess.”

“Deanna can fix your hair in no time,” I said. “You’re in the right place. And you know you’re always gorgeous to us. But what the heck happened?” I asked, ignoring Mary Alice’s suggestion to give Nancy some space.

“I wish I could tell you,” Nancy said. “I guess Bob and I have been drifting apart for a long time. The signs were there. I just didn’t notice them. When Terri left home to go into the Peace Corps two years ago, I went into a real depression, remember? You all helped me get through that.

“I threw myself into becoming the most successful real estate agent in Fairport to fill the void in my life. I missed Terri so much. And Bob reacted by taking more and more business trips. We started to go in separate directions. I realize that now, but I didn’t then.

“I suppose Bob and I doted on Terri too much, and when she left, we had nothing in common any more. Maybe we should have had more than one child. Well, it’s a little late for that now.”

Nancy fell silent, and the rest of us followed her lead. I was lost in my own thoughts. What kind of a marriage did Jim and I have? Could this happen to us? I was betting that Claire was thinking the same thing about her own marriage. Mary Alice had been a widow for a long time, but Nancy’s sad tale probably stirred up some memories for her as well. “When I got home last night, I was surprised to see Bob’s car in the driveway,” Nancy continued. “He hadn’t told me he was coming home. I thought he was back because he missed me, and we were going to finally celebrate my birthday.

“I ran into the house and threw my arms around him. I remember noticing that there were two suitcases in the front hall. I thought he’d come home to take me on a birthday getaway. When we were first married, he used to do things like that.

“Instead, he told me he’d met someone else.
Tiffani
.” Nancy spat out the name. “Who the hell names a child Tiffani?” She took another sip of water, this time with a shaky hand.

“I didn’t react. It was like a dream. Or a nightmare. He said he was sorry, but it was for the best, and in time, I’d realize that. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, just like he always did when he left on a business trip. Then he picked up the two suitcases and walked out the door.

“I guess this is all my fault. I drove Bob away.” So not true.

Nancy had done everything in her power to be a good wife to Bob for over 30 years. Plus, she watched her weight (no comments about mine, please), exercised regularly, always kept herself well-groomed and beautifully dressed. Her house was immaculate. She was a smart, loving, caring wife and mother. And the very best friend I’d ever had in my whole life.

The only mistake she’d made was marrying a self-centered jerk like Bob. Who, by the way, was not, and never had been, dreamboat material. In fact, when Nancy announced she was marrying him, I was shocked. His nickname in college was Bob “The Blob”. Cruel, yes. But also true.

Since I have, over the years, learned it’s wise to keep some of my admittedly strong opinions to myself (so they don’t come back to bite me later), I said something to comfort Nancy rather than reveal my true feelings about the creep she had married.

“I know you’re very hurt right now, honey, and I don’t blame you. Bob’s obviously going through a temporary life crisis. But I’m willing to bet you that once he figures out how little he and Tiffani have in common, he’ll come crawling back and beg your forgiveness.

“It’s not like he went on an Internet dating site looking for some action.”

Claire chimed in. “Carol’s right, Nancy. Wait and see. I bet Little Miss Home Wrecker spells ‘Tiffani’ with a smiley face over the ‘i’ instead of a dot.”

“I’ve got an even better idea,” said Mary Alice. “I bet she puts a little heart over the ‘i’.”

Nancy immediately brightened. “You guys are the best. You should all go into counseling. And you’ve given me a great idea.

“I’ll register on an Internet dating site and find a younger guy. If Bob can do it, so can I.”

Chapter 5

Your son is your son till he takes a wife.

And the girl that he weds is your daughter for life.

So why can’t we choose her together?

When I got home from Crimpers and all of Nancy’s drama, I was ready to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. I know, I know. How very mature of me.

I wasn’t feeling mature. I was feeling, well, confused. And a little scared. I mean, if Bob Green could fall hard for some young lovely and ditch a gorgeous woman like Nancy, what did that bode for the rest of us?

It may surprise you to learn that none – I mean NONE – of our friends had ever been divorced. Widowed, yes. Unhappily married, probably.

If some friends had unhappy marriages, it was none of my business. Unless someone chose to confide in me, of course. Then I’d have to offer an unbiased opinion taking the side of the wife. Once I had heard the whole story. I mean, I do keep an open mind. Most of the time.

Lucy and Ethel greeted me with uncharacteristic reserve. Not the sloppy wet doggy kisses I was counting on. When I looked at the kitchen clock, I realized why. It was way past 10:00 a.m., and in the division of household tasks Jim and I had set up (which was constantly evolving – I’ll tell you more about that later), I had sole charge of the dogs’ meals. “I know you’re hungry,” I told them. “But I’m sure Jim tossed you some Milk Bones to tide you over until I came home. Wait’ll I tell you what’s going on with Nancy. You won’t believe it.”

Lucy gave me that doggy stare I know so well.
Knock off the talking. Just feed us. Now.

The dogs’ bag of kibble was front and center on the granite kitchen island, with a yellow highlighted note taped to it. “Mom, I fed the girls. Don’t let them con you into another meal. Lucy is getting kind of chunky, in case you hadn’t noticed. See ya later. Love, Jenny.”

“You are a pair of con artists,” I said to the dogs. “And Jenny is right. Lucy, you are looking a little heavy.”

I sighed. Maybe the reason I hadn’t noticed Lucy’s weight gain was that I was too preoccupied with my own. “I have to cut down on the food for you. And the biscuits. You’ve gotta be slim and trim for Jenny and Mark’s wedding.”

Jenny and Mark’s wedding. The one I wasn’t going to be involved in planning.

Oh, shape up, Carol
(no pun intended).
Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You’ll be involved. Just not as much as you’d hoped. Or expected. Or wanted to be. Or dreamed about since Jenny was born.

Get over yourself, for crying out loud.

When I lifted up the bag of dog food to put it back in the dog closet – yes, Lucy and Ethel have their own closet in the kitchen with their food, leashes, toys, extra bedding, medicine, and who knows what else – I realized there was a page from our local paper underneath it. A huge ad, circled with the same yellow highlighter, begged me to read it.

“Cinderella Weddings is coming to Fairfield County! Let us plan your perfect wedding. Find your Prince Charming and we’ll take care of the rest. Our service includes: Budget Analysis (I knew Jim would love that); Destination/Venue Research and Selection; Vendor Research/ Negotiation; Vendor Contract Reviews; Theme Creation; Ceremony Design; Event Timelines and Checklists; Favor Design/Selection…and much, much more.”

Sheesh. Reading that ad gave me a headache. Who knew planning a wedding today involved so many details? I wondered if the consultant came along on the honeymoon, too.

Oh, there was another note from Jenny scrawled on the top of the page. “Mom, you’ve got to get Dad to come to this bridal show. Mark won’t go without some guy support. Thanks and I love you. J.”

Oh, boy. Jim was going to love this.

Speaking of Jim, where the heck was he? He’d left early this morning to take Lucy and Ethel for a walk when Jenny arrived. Obviously, he’d come back and dropped them off. But then, where did he go?

I checked the master suite (now on the first floor, thanks to Jim’s redesign of the house a few months ago). There was a wet towel hanging on the bathroom door, and the medicine chest door was open. Honestly, will the man ever learn to close doors and drawers?

I sniffed the air. Hmm. The musky scent of Jim’s rarely used aftershave lotion permeated the room. I think the last time he’d used it was Christmas 2005.

Something was definitely up.

I told myself not to overreact. Just because Jim had used a splash (or two) of aftershave before he left today for parts unknown, and didn’t me leave a note telling me where he’d gone or when he’d be home, was no reason to panic.

On the other hand, as I stood in the shower myself and let the hot water cascade over me, I remembered that Nancy’d had no idea what Bob was up to until last night.

When he asked her for a divorce.