“I talked to her, all right.”
He rotated the spoon between his thumb and forefinger. “It wasn’t my idea to leave. I told your mother I’d never speak to Alice again and begged for forgiveness, but she tossed me out.”
“What did you expect her to do?” I said it with such ferocity that several heads turned.
He placed the spoon parallel to his knife. “You’re right. She’s right. I deserve everything I get.”
My mind struggled for equilibrium. I realized the best scenario was Dad’s going home and reconciling with Mom, even if he wasn’t good enough for her. That was the only conclusion that would make Mom happy.
I tugged my chair closer to the table. “Was Alice the only one, or were there more?”
He shook his head glumly. “No, just Alice.” His cheeks blanched gray, like worn cement. “I told Alice it’s over between us, forever.”
I scowled. Years ago, when I’d lied about doing my homework, Dad had spouted, “A man’s only as good as his word.” How gullible I’d been to buy into his self-righteousness. Looking at him now after all those years, I saw an insignificant little man with shoulders bent forward like a vulture and a face shriveled like a prune.
“I’ve tried to break it off with Alice before,” he said. “Many times. But I was weak. I couldn’t keep away from her.”
I screwed up my face. “You couldn’t keep away from Alice? She’s ugly.”
The waitress arrived at the table with the check. She glanced down at Dad’s sandwich and asked, “May I wrap that up for you, sir?” Then she carted his plate into the kitchen.
Dad charged the meal to his room by signing his name at the bottom of the check. “I was a lot younger when I got myself into this mess,” he said. “And your mother wasn’t an easy woman to live with.”
I recoiled, my weight lifting off the chair. I couldn’t believe he had the gall to place any guilt on Mom. “That’s your excuse?” I said. “No one’s easy to live with all the time. Don’t expect any sympathy from me.”
His voice faltered. “I don’t blame you for being angry.” His features twisted down, as if he were going to cry, something I’d never seen him do. “I’m trying to make things right. I called your mother a couple of hours ago and said I’d like to come home and patch things up.” His mouth hardened when he added, “But she told me not to bother, that she hadn’t slept so well for years. She informed me she’s changing the locks today in case I get any ideas about coming back to the house.”
He sat straighter, arms crossing. “Did she mention anything about hiring an attorney? She’d better not plan to use mine.”
Was retaining his lawyer and protecting his finances all he could think of? His callous remark sent me to my feet and out the door.
I reached into my cubby and picked up my telephone messages as I entered the office. I sorted through the slips of paper and read the words Bill Avery, please call ASAP.
I turned to the receptionist, Stephanie, who was sitting behind her L-shaped desk, and asked, “Has Lois been in yet?”
Stephanie’s exaggerated smile revealed displeasure. “She went to Palm Springs for a month. I assumed you knew. She told me you’d handle all her calls.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Stephanie, a slim blonde in her early thirties, wore dark-rimmed glasses that gave her a determined look. “In fact, she told me it was your idea.”
“I offered to help out if she needed a vacation, but she said she couldn’t leave town.”
Another agent strolled through the door, and Stephanie waited for the man to pass by before she said, “Welcome to the club.” She checked to make sure no one else was within earshot. “Lois is always unloading surprises like this on me.” She stood to hand me a weighty stack of manila folders, each bulging with paperwork. “Here, she said to give you these.”
With the phone messages stashed in my pocket, I balanced the folders in my arms and just made it to my workspace before they started slipping. The papers landed with a thud on my desk, sounding like the foundations of a building giving way. I plopped down on my chair and stared at them. This scene reminded me of my recurring nightmare in which I arrived at a strange classroom to find I needed to take a final exam without preparation. I thought of Lois. That woman could probably bulldoze her way through the test and come out with an A. She was a shrewd businesswoman, one of the most organized and goal-oriented people I’d ever met—not the type to throw her house sales away on a whim. Her mother must have died.
My hand flew for the phone, and I called Lois’s home number.
Her husband, Walt, answered. “She’s visiting an old friend,” he said, his words hesitant. When I asked to leave a message, he stated, “She can’t be reached.”
“Would you please ask her to call me? We’re working on some transactions together.”
“I said, she can’t be reached.”
I remembered talking to Walt on a number of occasions. He’d always seemed a jovial fellow and quite chatty. “Is everything all right?” I asked. When he didn’t answer, I added, “Lois told me about her mother.”
I heard a muffled sound, then a sniff. “It’s not her mother who’s having the problem,” he said. “It’s Lois. But you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone. Not that keeping this a secret has helped either one of us.”
Maybe Lois was in the hospital being treated for heart disease or cancer, I thought. I could imagine a woman like her wouldn’t want the whole office knowing she was incapacitated. “Of course,” I said. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“It’s her drinking. She’d been keeping it under control—only one glass of wine with dinner, maybe a couple on the weekends. But when I got
