Secrets of a Shoe Addict (37 page)

Loreen, Abbey, and Tiffany shrieked with laughter.

“I guess he was desperate for
something
while Arlon was gone. I’m certainly glad the fist didn’t talk to me. Sooo,” she said, wrapping up her social life in one neat finish, “that’s what my dating life’s been like this year. You can try, but it’s hard to beat.”

“I had a one-night stand with a hottie in Las Vegas,” Loreen said flatly. “Afterwards he wanted a thousand bucks for his services when I was just glad the drinks were free.”

Sandra took a moment, looked at Loreen to determine if she was serious.

Loreen nodded. “It’s true.”

“You win,” Sandra said.

“A male prostitute?” Abbey repeated incredulously. “
That’s
how all this started?”

Loreen stiffened visibly. “Yes. And I totally understand if you never want to talk to me again, because I drew you into this mess, which I know is sinful, and didn’t fully disclose the reason to any of you.”

Abbey laughed. “Loreen, I don’t think it’s sinful. I’m just so glad to hear you had such a good reason.”

“Good reason?” Loreen echoed dumbly.

“Well, it’s one thing to rack up a bunch of gambling debt because you’re bored. It’s a whole different thing to rack it up because you’re panicked.”

“You thought I lost all that money just because I was bored?” Loreen asked. Her expression softened. “And you still risked everything to help pay it off?”

Abbey’s face took on a slight pink hue. “I wouldn’t say I
risked everything
, but you were in trouble. It didn’t really matter all that much why.”

Tears filled Loreen’s eyes. “I don’t deserve friends like you guys, I really don’t.”

Tiffany put an arm around her. “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with us anyway.”

“Really stuck,” Sandra added with a laugh. “Since I’m not dating anymore.”

“Actually . . . speaking of dating and not wanting to ever date again, Robert came by last night,” Loreen said. “I don’t think we’ll be getting divorced.”

Tiffany was clearly delighted. “You’re
not
?”

“Well.” Loreen reached for the bowl of fruit and took a banana, peeling it deliberately as she spoke. “We were talking about getting back together, so I told him about my night in Vegas.” She bit the banana and went on, while chewing, “When I told him about
that
, he freaked out.”

“Naturally,” Tiffany said. “But he got over it.”

“Um-hm.” Loreen swallowed. “Go figure.”

“Look, you made a mistake,” Tiffany said. “Big deal. We all do sometimes. Frankly, I’d be disappointed if Robert couldn’t get over it.”

They pondered that for a moment.

Then Sandra’s phone rang. She took it out and looked at the caller ID, as was her habit. Just in case it was something urgent.

It was Doug, her date from Normandie Farm.

That was weird.

“Answer it,” Tiffany barked when Sandra announced the caller. “Find out what he wants!”

Sandra opened the phone. “Hello?” She held up a finger and walked a few steps away.

“Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“Doug Ladd. We met a few weeks ago?”

Like she could possibly forget. “Hi, Doug.” She made a puzzled face at the others. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks. Listen . . . do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

He let out a short sigh. “I realize you might just not be interested in seeing me again, and if that’s the case, it’s fine. Just tell me. But I really thought we had something going when we met, and then . . . I’m not sure what happened. It turned weird.”

Of course it had turned weird. She’d asked him if he was gay. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. “All I can say is that I’ve been burned before . . . well, actually, I’ve had a series of bad dates, one more bizarre than the last, so . . .” She shrugged, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’m gun-shy.”

“I think I understand,” Doug said. “I got that you weren’t the most confident person in the room.”

“No, that would have been you.” She laughed.

He laughed, too. “Far from it. Anyway, look, I’ve had some bad dates, too, and I just find I keep thinking about you. I’d like to see you again.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Seriously, Doug, I’d love to, but why would
you
want to see
me
again? You’re a great-looking guy. You’ve got everything going for you. Why would you want to go out with
me
?”

“Why
wouldn’t
I?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Did she have to
say
it? “I’m not exactly Cindy Crawford.”

Tiffany made an exasperated sound, and Sandra shot her a silencing look.

“So what?” Doug asked. “Neither am I.”

She laughed again, but didn’t point out that she’d stopped just short of asking him if he was. “Okay, but you’re practically George Clooney. Why would you want to go out with a fat girl?”

All three of them—Tiffany, Loreen, and Abbey—made noises of objection. Sandra held up her hand and
shhh
’d them as she left the room for more privacy.

She found a spot in Kate’s room and sat down.

“Fat?” Doug was saying. “Give yourself a break, Sandra. You’re just . . . you’re like a luxury model of these vain skeletons I’ve been meeting. You’re real. You have an appetite for life, for food, for drink. I’m good with that.”

Hope seized her, and she immediately squelched it. It was a habit from a long time back.

“You’re not just, like, a fetishist, are you?” Because she’d met one too many of
those
this month.

“Jesus, Sandra, you act like you’re a circus freak or something. Give it a rest. I really liked the woman I met at Normandie Farm. I want to see her again. Is that really so surprising?”

She could have gone on arguing, but the lack of confidence would
be far more unattractive than any of the things she was worried about, and besides, Doug seemed really sincere.

Both when she met him and now.

She was
not
going to blow this for herself by being insecure.

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s not weird at all. So. Where are we going?”

Chapter
      
23
  

C
harlie was in a foul mood.

And Tiffany did not want to deal with it. Gerald Parks had called and said he had the evidence she was looking for, so she wanted to go get it, and have it in hand before potentially having another explosive conversation with Charlie.

Charlie made her feel bad. About herself, about their life, for their kids. Charlie was cranky grumpy, unhappy, domineering, and about a hundred other unpleasant adjectives.

Over the past several months he’d gone away on business more than ever before, and Tiffany had realized that she not only enjoyed the time when he was gone, but she dreaded his return. The news that he might be having an affair, in fact that the private investigator had pictures she could use against him, would have been devastating a year ago, yet today it was welcome. Cause for celebration, even.

This was not a subtle clue that something was wrong in the marriage; it was a big neon sign.

Tiffany had already asked Loreen for help in figuring out her budget, so she could take care of the kids on her own. The presumption was that, if she and Charlie divorced, she’d get child support at least, but Tiffany didn’t want to count on that. She wanted to be sure she had enough to do everything by herself.

Unfortunately she hadn’t yet had that conversation, or the one with Gerald Parks, when Charlie came in, practically breathing fire.

“I need to use your bank account,” he said—without preamble and without greeting his children—when he came into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry?”

“There’s been a . . . a problem. Identity theft. My bank account has been cleaned out.”

There was more to the story. She’d been with him long enough to know that.
“Identity theft?”
she repeated.

He nodded. “It happens all the time. I’m . . . working on it. Meanwhile, I need to tap into the family account.”

“Wait a minute,” Tiffany said. “There’s
your
account and the
family
account?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Where’s my account?”

“Where’s your income?”

In my account
, she wanted to say, but she wasn’t going to tip her hand. The fact that she had a private account to pay off the PTA debt, and so on, didn’t mean he could just separate their marital finances the way he had. “I don’t think a court would see that as relevant.”

Charlie’s stance was belligerent immediately. “So now you want to take this to court?”

She straightened her back. “I’m not against it.”

He frowned at her, then turned to Andy. “Go see your sister upstairs,” he told him.

“What are you doing?” Tiffany demanded.

“We need to talk. Alone.” Charlie took Andy out of his seat and shooed him toward the hallway.

Tiffany took Andy to the stairs and called up to Kate to come get him, which she did.

Then Tiffany went back to the kitchen and asked, “What in the world did you have to do that for?”

“You two are in cahoots, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re working together. You and Marcia.”

“Marcia who?” Tiffany said. Then it dawned on her. “Marcia your secretary?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Charlie, I
don’t
know. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Marcia threatening to tell you about us, then the next thing I know my accounts are cleaned out.”

Marcia! Tiffany never would have suspected she’d do something like this! “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Are you having an
affair
with
Marcia
?”

“Like you don’t know. You weren’t behind that guy following me with a camera?” His hesitation lasted only a fraction of a second before it started to crackle with uncertainty.

“Marcia?”
Tiffany demanded again.

Charlie went pale. “You didn’t know?”

Tiffany shifted her weight and stared him down. “What scares you more, the idea that I did know or the idea that I didn’t?”

“Stop playing games,” Charlie snapped. “Were you involved in cleaning out my accounts?”

“No,” Tiffany said icily. “Was your mistress?”

Charlie’s voice was tight. “I didn’t say—”

“Yes, you did,” Tiffany answered quickly. “You said your mistress cleaned out your accounts.”

He paused again, then ran his hand through his hair and took a step toward Tiffany. “Oh, baby,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her into a stiff embrace. “I’ve made such a mess of things. Can you ever forgive me?”

“For having an affair and losing all your money to her?” Tiffany asked. “Yes. Yes, I can forgive you.”

Charlie tightened his grip on her. “Oh, thank God.”

“But I can’t take you back.”

His grip tightened more still. Then he pulled back. “What?”

“I can’t take you back,” Tiffany repeated. “You’ve betrayed me too much.” She decided to go with the vague because it seemed clear now that he had betrayed her more than once.

“You were so wrapped up in the kids,” he said, but it sounded like he’d practiced it before. Like he was ready for this conversation.

But even if that weren’t the case, his contention was so laughably untrue that she couldn’t take it seriously. “So you slept with your secretary.”

“She was
there
,” he said. “She was
responsive
to my needs.”

“She
took your money
,” Tiffany added. “How did she do it? With your social security number?”

He nodded. “We had a joint account,” he said. “For business, but apparently she wanted to use it for more.”

“You had a joint account with your
mistress
but not with your
wife
.” Tiffany shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry.” It might have been the first time in their marriage that he’d ever apologized.

“I bet you are. It sounds like you’ve got your hands full, what with fixing your banking errors and moving out of here.”