Joan Elizabeth Lloyd

The Secret Lives Of Housewives


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how much she had.

      As if reading her thoughts, Angie reached over and patted her hand. “You look embarrassed. Tony and I get along fine. Don’t worry.” She turned to Eve. “Yeah, which ones?”

      Eve mentioned the names of several high-end brands. “No shit,” Cait said, her eyes widening. “I have several pair of those, especially a wonderful little black slingback with a small rhinestone clip off to one side. I just love them.”

      “I’m glad. I don’t do the buying, of course, but I’m glad they’re going in the right direction.”

      “What does a person in charge of logistics do?” Angie asked.

      “We take care of getting the shoes into the country from the Far East, customs, duties, tariffs, then filling orders from wholesalers, like that.”

      “What about you, Monica? What do you do?”

      Over the last few moments Monica had considered how to answer that question and had decided to play it low-key. She suddenly realized that she didn’t want to seem like some powerful Madison Avenue type that these women wouldn’t be able to relate to. She liked this little group and wanted to feel part of it. “I’m with C & B.”

      “C & B?”

      “Sorry. Those in the business are so used to the abbreviation. It’s Conroy and Bates. That’s a big ad agency in the city.” One of the top five, actually.

      “What does that mean you do, exactly?”

      “I deal with big corporations who need to buy TV time and print space to advertise their products. I set up media plans, work with the creative guys, and approve commercials, like that. I also try to convince them to buy more and spend more.”

      “Phew,” Angie said. “From all I’ve seen on those cop shows on TV, being in the advertising business is a lot of high pressure.”

      “On Law and Order, advertising people work twelve-hour days and sweat a lot over the possibility of losing an account,” Eve said.

      “You got that right,” Monica said, trying to release the tension she suddenly felt in her jaw. It was always her jaw that felt it first. “That’s why I’m taking this class. I’ve got to get rid of some of this stress.”

      “Well, yoga’s good for that,” Angie said. Her face softened and Monica realized that she was quite pretty, or would be if she’d do something about herself. She also realized that with twins, finding time to have her hair or nails done was probably out of the question. And there was always the money.

      “How about you, Cait? You said you don’t work?” Monica winced. “Maybe that wasn’t the most tactful way to put that.”

      “It’s okay, Monica. I don’t work, per se, but I’m busy all the time. I’m on the board of several large charities and it seems we’re going and doing all the time. I paint, work out, and my husband and I do a lot of entertaining.”

      “What does he do?” Eve asked.

      “He’s a partner in his family’s real estate firm. American Properties.”

      “Wow. They’ve got signs up everywhere,” Angie said. “Does he sell a lot of houses?”

      “The firm does,” Cait said. “Actually he’s on the corporate side, selling or renting entire buildings to big businesses, Fortune 500 types.”

      “Where did you get the name Cait? I mean, spelled that way. I’ve never heard of it before.”

      She told them about her teacher and the two other Caitlins.

      “Why didn’t they call you ‘Red’?”

      “My hair wasn’t quite this color back then,” Cait said to Angie, tucking a strand behind her ear with a charming, slightly embarrassed grin. “It has a little help about once a month now.”

      The three other women giggled. “Ah,” Eve said, becoming serious again. “I’ve been admiring that color. It looks so fabulous with your face.”

      “Actually, it would look great on you, Eve,” Angie said. “You might consider doing something like it. You could use one of those wash-in products, and if you didn’t like it, it would just disappear slowly.”

      “I don’t think it would be right for me. Cait’s so polished, so upscale, that it really looks perfect on her. Me? I don’t think so.”

      Cait looked uncomfortable with the compliments. “God, this coffee’s really dreadful,” she said, quickly changing the topic. “I love this diner and I have lunch here a few times a week. The food’s really good, but their coffee…” She made an ugly face. “I think it sits in those pots until it cooks down to gunk.”

      Eve put her half-full cup down. “You’re right, Cait. It really is sludge. A gal at the office makes dreadful coffee like this. My boss calls it cawful, for awful coffee.” She paused and her face softened for a moment. Then she said, “Anyway, this qualifies as cawful.”

      Monica took a small swallow. She’d noticed the lightning quick change in Eve’s mood but didn’t comment. She hadn’t really focused on the coffee since she’d been trying to cut down, but as she took another sip she couldn’t help but agree with the other women. “I’m such a coffeeholic that I seldom notice what hot, brown liquid I’m drinking, but this really is the pits. I’d be afraid to let the spoon sit in the cup too long.” She grinned. “It might dissolve. Cawful. Great term.”

      Angie sipped hers. “I’m just happy I can drink coffee again. You can’t have caffeine while you’re nursing, you know.”

      “Oh, right,” Monica said. “That and no wine, were my sister’s biggest complaints. Well, morning sickness, of course. And being unable to roll over in bed, and toward the end, no sex.”

      Angie groaned. “Not much sex afterwards either.” Then she looked startled, as if surprised that the words had come out of her mouth.

      “God,” Cait said. “I couldn’t get along without sex, good, bad or indifferent.”

      “Me neither,” Monica said.

      “Oh,” Angie said, “I thought you weren’t married.”

      “And your point is?” she said with a leer. “You don’t have to own the cow to enjoy the milk.”

      “A woman I have to admire,” Cait said, grinning.

      “You sound just like Tony did before we were married,” Angie added with a giggle. “He’d had enough of marriage.”

      “He’d been married before?” Cait asked.

      “Jordanna,” she said with forced lightness. “They were married for three years.”

      “Exes are the pits,” Monica said. “My parents were divorced when I was thirteen and my mom never let me or my sisters forget what a shit he was.”

      “Oh, Jordanna’s not that bad. We used to have lunch occasionally.”

      Monica caught a tightness in Angie’s voice. “Used to?”

      “Well, now with the babies and all, it’s difficult for me to get out.”

      “She doesn’t visit you?” Eve said, then paused. “Well, I guess that would be a bit strange.”

      “Very strange. Tony sees her from time to time.” Angie looked down at her watch. “Listen, guys, I have to get going. I really enjoyed getting out. Maybe next week?”

      “Sure,” Monica said. She was surprised to realize that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. Such an odd combination of women, but somehow they seemed to fit.

      As Angie picked up her gym bag and took out some money, Eve’s cell phone rang. She looked at the screen, and when she obviously recognized the phone number, Monica