Trouble Down The Road. Bettye Griffin

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СКАЧАТЬ gaze shifted from the uninteresting action playing out on the screen of the large plasma television to her hosts. Micheline’s head rested on Errol’s shoulder, and his arm was draped around her. The affection between them seemed genuine enough. Suzanne reconsidered. Could she have just imagined Micheline’s come-on to Brad? After all, Errol sat right there in the same room, along with five other guests. A person would have to be some kind of idiot to even try to carry on a flirtation with so many witnesses.

      Or crafty as hell.

      One of the players was running with the football, and everyone in the room either cheered or jeered. Suzanne, who knew nothing about football, took her cue from Brad, who cheered. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Micheline throw her arms around Errol and embrace him. Errol shifted to face her, his hand roaming dangerously high over her thigh, to where the hem of her short denim skirt met her skin. A laughing Micheline playfully smacked it away, with a hiss of, “Later!”

      Suzanne began to feel better. Micheline already had a husband who was good-looking, sexy, and successful. She’d probably just wanted to test her French on someone who understood a little of the language. This was Jacksonville, not New York or New Orleans. How many people here spoke French? Even Brad’s knowledge of it was limited to a few basic phrases he’d learned for a trip to Paris they took a few years back. Micheline likely knew no more than he did. And as far as the opportunity Brad had to look down Micheline’s blouse, she probably just didn’t realize it had fallen away from her chest when she bent over. So what if Brad got to peek into her cleavage. It was a natural action. Wouldn’t her eyes have lingered if she saw an attractive man pulling off his shirt?

      Suzanne chided herself for being so paranoid. The last thing she wanted to become was one of those women who felt that every other member of the species was after her man. It probably had to do with the feeling she’d had lately that she couldn’t shake—the fear that something wasn’t quite right in her marriage. The conversation she and Brad had on the way over here didn’t help any.

      Once again she glanced at the Trents, sitting so companionably in the oversized chair. What an attractive couple they made. Brad had met Errol when they served together at a traveling clinic that passed through Jacksonville as it moved all about the country to provide medical and dental checkups and minimal treatments for a nominal fee to those without insurance, and he recommended Errol for membership in the golf club he belonged to. Suzanne had been surprised to see how young the Trents were. Memberships at the golf club didn’t come cheap, and most of the members were in their forties, fifties, and sixties. But of course, Errol Trent was some kind of dentist—an oral surgeon, Brad had said—and could probably afford it. She put his age in the mid to upper thirties, while Micheline appeared to be about thirty.

      Thirty. Suzanne swallowed past a lump in her throat. How nice it would be if she could be that age again. She’d be forty-two this year and was acutely aware of getting older. Her son Bradley was fifteen and way taller than she was. Being around younger women like Micheline gave Suzanne the unwelcome feeling of being past her prime.

      Right after the first quarter, Micheline announced she was bringing out the refreshments. Suzanne quickly offered to help, not so much to be of assistance but to maybe get a chance to chat privately with her hostess, get a better feel for her personality. She seemed like a fun type. Maybe they could even get to be friends. Suzanne didn’t play golf, but she’d go down to the club and wait for Brad to come off the links if she had a friend there she could have dinner with.

      “Everything’s so lovely, Micheline. Did you do this all yourself?” she asked as she admired a tray of honey-dipped chicken drumettes Suzanne removed from the oven, where they’d been keeping warm.

      “Sure. It was easy.”

      “I guess it helps that the Super Bowl is on a Sunday, huh? It gives you the whole weekend to prepare.” Suzanne watched as Micheline removed a raw vegetable tray from the refrigerator, taking it from her so she could retrieve other foods. “I always liked the idea of having the big game on a Friday night, but I guess that would make preparation difficult for women who aren’t stay-at-home moms like me.” Suzanne did enjoy informing people that she was a homemaker and had been for years. Many of the wives of Brad’s colleagues had high-powered careers, but her status as housewife and stay-at-home mother excused her from having to discuss a professional life.

      “Well, I might not be a mom, but I don’t work.”

      Suzanne nearly dropped the tray. A few cherry tomatoes did fall off before she placed it down on the countertop. She swiftly replaced them. “Oh. You don’t?” She didn’t understand. The Trents had no children. What was Micheline doing staying at home?

      She quickly answered her own question. Like herself, Micheline had simply opted to stop working because she didn’t have to. It was one thing to practice medicine or law, teach school, or even run your husband’s office. But if you had no training to do anything of substance, why go out and punch a clock every day for ten dollars an hour when your husband brought in big bucks?

      Suzanne listened intently as Micheline explained she had been ill at the time of her marriage to Errol and that he insisted she stay home to recuperate. Micheline concluded her explanation with a shrug. “One thing just led to another. It’s been almost three years, but Errol has never pushed me to go back to work. I think he enjoys having dinner ready when he gets home, or being able to invite guests over for dinner on a weeknight. I won’t say I haven’t enjoyed taking a break from working, but after all this time I’m starting to get a little restless. I’ll probably start job hunting soon.”

      “I hope you won’t have too hard a time. It’s a tough job market out there.” Suzanne forced herself to sound sympathetic, but she couldn’t understand why Micheline would want to shelve books at the library or deal with irate callers on a customer service line somewhere when she could stay at home.

      Micheline removed a large glass bowl containing tossed salad from the extra-wide refrigerator. “I don’t expect to have that difficult a time. There’s a lot of law firms in town.”

      “Law firms?” Suzanne repeated uncertainly.

      “Yes. I’m a bilingual paralegal, English and Spanish. Of course, I speak French, too, but not for work.” Then Micheline asked, “What did you do before you had your kids, Suzanne?”

      “Bilingual, huh? How interesting.” So Micheline wasn’t like her, a high school graduate with no professional work experience. Now that the ball was in Suzanne’s court, she scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make her sound insignificant. “Before my son was born I…uh, worked with patients at a diagnostic center.”

      “Oh. X-ray technician?”

      Suzanne wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t take the chance of exposure if Micheline asked for details of her work that she couldn’t supply, or worse, mentioned something about her former “career” to Brad. “Actually, I ran the office.” That wasn’t true, either, but she couldn’t say that she’d merely greeted patients and set up appointments for radiologic screenings and follow-ups, not after Micheline said she was a paralegal. Suzanne wasn’t even completely sure what that was other than it had something to do with the law, but it sounded pretty important. Micheline must really know Spanish inside and out if she spoke it on the job. And she knew French, too? Suzanne didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who spoke three languages, not even among those in Brad’s circle. Micheline had somewhat of an exotic look about her, with those almond-shaped eyes that had a golden tint to them. Suzanne wondered if she was Spanish or French. She looked more Spanish, but her name sounded more French.

      “Did you work at Brad’s diagnostic center?” Micheline СКАЧАТЬ