Saturday Morning (12 page)

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “The business is doing that well?”

There was something in his expression and his voice that made an alarm go off in her head. Could he be jealous, as Shari had suggested? Was he one of those men who was intimidated by his wife’s success? She considered her answer carefully and decided to downplay the business, in case he was suffering from a case of green-eyed monster. “It’s doing okay, growing some every day.”

“That’s great,” he said, then gave her a bland smile.

For the first time in their marriage, Andy felt like she needed to tiptoe around Martin. She hoped that by the time Sunday came around and she was on her way home, she would know for certain what was going on with him.

Downstairs at the main entrance, he handed her into the cab the doorman had whistled up. “Masa’s, please.” He gave the driver a piece of paper on which the address had been neatly penned. That was Martin, always paying attention to the smallest detail. The cab roared away from the curb, hung a right, and hit warp speed in thirty feet.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Andy said, in an effort to ease the strain that she couldn’t help but feel.

“About tomorrow.” Martin cleared his throat. “I thought I would be able to go with you, but—”

“Martin!” Andy interrupted, turning in her seat. “Don’t you dare tell me you have to work.”

He shrugged. “Well, I do.”

She glared at him. “I came here to be with you, not with your bosses, not with your colleagues, and certainly not with some real estate agent.” She turned back around and stared over the front seat, out the driver’s window. Anger boiled just below the flash point. She should have known better than to think he wanted her there because he missed her. All he wanted her there for was to do his bidding, to be his nice corporate wife, to be his house-hunter, to be his … She was so mad she shuddered.

Biting down on her tongue was the only way Andy could keep from saying anything else. She held the box of lavender wands tightly in her lap and watched the city go by.

“There are some things you need to know before we arrive,” Martin said, as if nothing were amiss. He briefed her on the guest list. There would be three other couples. She had met two of the couples at previous events. The new couple had been brought in from another company, and the wife was now the new senior vice president of something or other.

When he was through, she realized she had only heard half of what he’d said. Was it Jo or Joe with the last name Waters? The new
senior vice president, should she be addressed as Mrs. or Ms.? Until she knew for sure, she would avoid addressing anyone.

Martin adjusted the knot in his tie. Again. He was nervous. Funny, she didn’t recall him having any trouble in the past at functions such as this. Was he worried about the dinner in general, or was he worried she would mention the move that wasn’t going to happen? She supposed she could reassure him, but right now she wasn’t in a particularly charitable mood. On top of backing out of looking at houses, he hadn’t even asked how her trip had been into the city, or if she’d had any trouble with BART.

At the restaurant, Martin paid the driver and handed her out. Acting the perfect, thoughtful husband, he put his arm around her and escorted her up the red carpet. If she weren’t so mad, she would feel like a queen. At the door, he quickly moved in front of her and held it open. The smile he gave her reminded her so much of their early years that the tingle went clear to her toes. Now, though, every nice thing he said and did only aroused suspicion.

Lord, please get me through this occasion with my social face intact.
Playing the game of corporate wife had often been a joke with her, one that Martin never found humorous. He had always been far too serious about his job. As they wended their way between the white-clothed tables, Andy told herself to make nice and remember to smile.

Then she saw them, six of them, seated at a rectangular table toward the back. Were they late? Martin was never late to anything. She used to tease him about being early to his own funeral, just to make sure everything was in order.

Andy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
Good little corporate wife.

The three men rose from their chairs simultaneously. Black suits. Starched white shirts. They looked like a line of dominoes, standing up instead of falling down.

“Good evening, Andrea.” Brad Grandolay, head of the company, greeted her. “I’m glad you could join us.” He turned slightly, indicating the woman beside him. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Sophia.”

Andy put on her brightest smile. “I’m so happy to meet you, Sophia.” This was not the same wife Brad had been married to a few years ago. Andrea reached out to shake the woman’s hand and was blinded by the diamond—as big as a bantam chicken egg—on her finger. Vaguely, Andy recalled Martin saying that Brad’s first wife had left him to pursue a career in something or other.
Yeah, right.

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” Sophia said with a distinct southern drawl.

The syrupy drawl, combined with the blond hair and the chicken-egg ring, told Andy that Sophia could find her way around Saks blindfolded and that it would be hard to strike up a good conversation with her.

Andy drew her hand back and went to the next introduction. “And this is our new senior vice president of R&D, Ms. Waters.”

Andy nodded and smiled, but before she could say anything, the fashionably thin woman extended her hand. “Please call me Marcelene, and this is my husband, Joe.” The way she said it made it clear that Marcy was not an alternative. Her husband might have a nickname, but she didn’t.

Andy shook hands with her and then with Joe. “I’m glad to meet both of you. Martin said you came from Dallas. Welcome to the West Coast.” She greeted the other couple, whom she’d known from company Christmas parties and summer picnics, and sat when Martin pulled out her chair. Laying her box on the table, she untied the bow and lifted out the lavender wands, wrapped so carefully in tissue paper with a lavender bow, and handed one to each of the women. “A token from Lavender Meadows.”

“How lovely.” Each woman held the wand to her nose and smiled in delight at the fragrance.

“Did you make these?” Marcelene turned the ribbon and lavender wand and admired the handiwork.

“Yes, they are one of our specialties. They last a long time, and when the fragrance fades, you can brush them gently to release new scent, or add a few drops of essential lavender oil.”

When Martin cleared his throat, Andy glanced at him and detected a hint of annoyance in his expression. Why would just mentioning Lavender Meadows earn her that look?
Oh, Martin, what has happened to you?
She felt herself shrivel inside.

Forcing herself to smile, she tucked the box down at her feet with her evening bag.

At least the women seemed to appreciate her gift.

The waiter arrived with menus, explained the evenings entrées, took their drink orders, and left. It was Joe who started out the conversation, lightening the mood with a humorous account of their move to San Francisco.

Andy liked Joe. Not only did he have a good sense of humor, but he was also a good storyteller, which he came by naturally, she learned a few minutes later. He was a novelist. Somehow one comment from Brad turned the conversation, however, and before she knew it, they were talking about company business.

“So I understand you’re going out with a Realtor tomorrow,” Brad said, catching Andy off guard.

“Why, I—” She glanced at Martin and saw the look in his eyes. “Yes. First thing in the morning.”
Sorry, Lord.
Now she would have to go. Lying wasn’t something she took lightly, and spending the day with a Realtor in this city hovered somewhere between having a root canal and a mammogram.

Brad nodded. “We ask a lot of our executives and their spouses, but we’d like to think we make it worth their while.”

I wouldn’t know, since my husband hasn’t told me how much of a salary increase you gave him, or how much the bonuses will be or—anything else
. Andy’s first thought was to tell Brad that some things couldn’t be bought, things like family roots, dreams, and happiness. But she kept still.

“If there is anything AES and I can do to help you, feel free to ask.”

Again Andy smiled. “Thank you. I will.”

The conversation turned to expansions and acquisitions, which was frankly boring, as far as Andy was concerned. She glanced over at Joe and saw him watching his wife, his smiling eyes telling Andy that he was proud of her. Picking up her glass of iced tea, she looked over the rim at Sophia, who was watching the candlelight reflect off her diamond ring. The other woman, Denise, who sat at the opposite end of the table, nodded at everything her husband said. She reminded Andy of one of those plastic dashboard dogs.

Feeling guilty for being bored, Andy made a real effort to attend to the conversation. If only Martin had discussed his job from time to time, she might appreciate the expansion that they were talking about.

During a lull, Joe put in a word or two about sales techniques, based on his experience selling computer equipment back before he started writing. “I remember my boss telling me, ‘The customer is always right, even when they are wrong.’”

A round of subdued laughter followed. They obviously thought the concept ridiculous. But Andy didn’t. She followed the same credo. “Joe has made an interesting point,” she said, putting a stop to their laughter. “It’s not an easy thing to do, but it’s highly effective, and it wins the customer’s loyalty.”

“You don’t say,” Marcelene said, looking at Andy with new interest. “Give me an example.”

Andy felt Martin’s foot land squarely on top of hers and knew he thought she’d spoken out of turn. She considered just shrugging it off, then thought better of it. She was an intelligent woman, and there was no reason why she couldn’t add her two cents. She couldn’t imagine Marcelene or any of them thinking less of her for it. It seemed to her that they would think better of Martin.

“Last week I had a customer who complained that the bath and body products we sent her were not what she ordered. But they were. She’d obviously not correctly read the instructions on our Web site and had selected the wrong boxes.” Andy discreetly pulled her foot out from under Martin’s.

“So what did you do?” Marcelene asked, leaning toward Andy.

“We told her to keep the merchandise we had sent her as a gift, and we would send out a new order right away, at no extra charge. Before she hung up, she ordered a case of lavender tea and our honey sticks.” She chanced a sideways look at Martin and knew he was hard pressed to control his anger.

“Bath and body products? Teas? Honey sticks? Web site?” Marcelene shook her head. “Martin told us that Lavender Meadows was just a little hobby, but it sounds to me like you have a real business going there. Have you sold it or—”

“No,” Andy cut in. “Lavender Meadows has been my family’s home for three generations. We won’t ever sell it, but the business belongs to my parents as well, and we’ve hired an employee to help out.”

Smile, Andy. Smile if it kills you.
She remained silent for the rest of the evening. By the time Brad Grandolay bade everyone good night, she had mentally planted the rest of the acreage, one plant at a time.

“Good luck on your search tomorrow, Andrea. What an exciting
track you are on.” He shook her hand, then Martin’s. “Life will be so much easier for both of you, with less time on the road. I know you’ve been looking forward to this.”

Andy and Martin rode back to the hotel in silence. Once inside their room, Andy put her hand on Martin’s arm and stopped him from taking another step. “Sit down, Martin. We’re going to talk.”

Andy woke at six o’clock, sat up, and saw Martin across the room sitting on the couch working on his laptop.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” She yawned and stretched, staring at the face in the mirror across from the bed.

“Of course.” Already dressed for the day, he closed the lid on the computer and carried it back to the table.

Looking in the mirror across from the bed, Andy saw that her hair was spiked and that a sleep-crease slashed across her cheek. Definitely not a trophy wife.
Is that another part of his dream?
The thought stopped her. Never had he given any hint of straying, and never had she been given to suspicions.

What would happen to their marriage if she refused to move? What a silly question. Of course their marriage was sound and could weather any storm. Look how they’d handled the separations all these years. While sometimes she’d grumbled, she understood that a man did what he had to do to make a living, especially to maintain the style of living to which they’d all become accustomed. Not that they’d had money to throw around, but the bills were paid, retirement funded, and they’d put two of their children through college and were working on the third. They drove decent cars, paid their tithe at their church.

Are you going to trust Me?

That prompting again.
Lord, You know that I trust You
.

Do you?

She got up and went to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and washed her fears down the drain. Their “talk” last night had not accomplished what she’d hoped it would. She’d let Martin know in no uncertain terms that he was treating her like a doormat, and that from now on he was to consult her before making plans of any kind. He apologized, blamed it on being overwhelmed by the job change, and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He was so contrite, she decided to cut him some slack. She told him that she would go out with the real estate agent as planned but that it was just to kill time while he worked, because she had no intention of moving. She pointed out that between her five days a month with him in San Francisco and his one or possibly two weekends a month in Medford, their lives would continue as they always had.

By the time she’d finished with all of that, she didn’t want to stir things up again by talking about his behavior at the restaurant. If indeed he was jealous, which seemed likely, she would need professional advice on how to deal with it. Meantime, she wouldn’t mention it, and she would be extra careful in what she said to him about the business.