CHAPTER THREE

THE CARD

Claire sat at her desk the next morning still lost in a flood of emotions. Everything seemed to be happening around her without much thought or action on her end. She knew she got the kids ready for school. She knew she made breakfast for them, and she kissed George Sr. on the way out of the house, but it all had the hazy sensation of déjà-vu.

Claire approved the first ten files in her box without much scrutiny, not really wanting to argue with anyone. Becky came and stood behind her computer when it was time for their mid-morning break. Without a word passed between them, Rebecca knew something went wrong with Claire’s special day.

“Hey,” Becky said with a guarded smile.

“Hey,” Claire mumbled.

Today Becky wore a flowing sundress with a pink background and colorful floral prints. Claire wore black slacks with a gray sweatshirt. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail for convenience, but the move left her whole face exposed on what was not one of her prettier days.

She didn’t have on makeup. This was the norm, but Claire’s trademarked cheeriness—which usually added a glow to her countenance—was missing. She looked tired and stressed, angry and haggard.

“Sooo, how’d it go last night?” Becky queried.

Claire shrugged. “It was fine,” she said without looking up.

“Did, um, did George have to work late?” Becky asked.

“No. He got home around six-thirty.”

“So he didn’t like your video? You burned the lobster? He wouldn’t give you any? Come on, girl, tell me what happened. You’ve been over here looking pissed all morning.”

Claire looked up at her friend, and she didn’t look pissed at all anymore. Her eyes were glossy, and Becky saw that she was close to tears.

“Claire, what’s wrong, honey?”

Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing. You want to go to the break room?”

“No,” Claire said, thinking about all the gossips in there.

“Let’s go outside,” Becky suggested.

Claire sighed and stood slowly on stiff legs. “All right.”

* * *

The spring morning was warm and beautiful. The daily temperatures in Overbrook Meadows, Texas, would skyrocket to a hundred-plus in a few months, but in April it rarely got over eighty degrees. A soothing breeze tickled the branches of rejuvenating dogwood trees, sending pink petals drifting through the air like snowflakes.

Becky led her friend around the building where concrete benches were set up for a smoking section. Smoking was no longer allowed on the Provincial campus, so the area was pleasantly vacant. Claire took a seat and stared out at the traffic blazing by on Hulen Avenue. Becky sat next to her and waited anxiously.

Claire looked her friend in the eyes and chuckled nervously. “I hope I’m going crazy,” she said.

Becky reached into her lap and held Claire’s trembling hand. “You’re scaring me,” she said.

Claire took a deep breath and the tears started to fall again. “I can’t believe I’m thinking this,” she said. “I don’t even want to say it—not about George.” She let go of her friend’s hand and retrieved the Thinking of You card from her purse. She handed it over without saying anything.

Becky took it hesitantly and didn’t open it right away. She kept her eyes on Claire’s. “What’s this?”

Claire shook her head. “Just read it.”

Becky did, but she didn’t have the look of horror Claire expected when she was done. “Where did you get this?” she asked.

“Out of George’s briefcase.”

Becky was confused. “So what is it? Is this what you’re upset about?”

“Last night,” Claire said, “George gave me a diamond necklace for our anniversary. It’s a journey pendant. It’s beautiful, and expensive.”

Becky nodded and listened intently.

“He told me…” Claire took another breath, but couldn’t stop her voice from hitching. “He told me I meant everything to him, and, and he wanted me to have everything I wanted.”

“That’s beautiful,” Becky said.

Claire held a hand up. “He said he knew I had my eye on that necklace for a long time, but I didn’t.” She shook her head. “I never once said anything about wanting that necklace, or any other necklace.”

Becky’s look of confusion changed to concern. She gazed down at the card in her hands again. “So…”

“So I knew he had me confused with someone else,” Claire said. “George has a great memory, but he slipped up this time. I think some other bitch has been nagging him about that necklace, but he got it for me accidentally.”

Becky’s mouth fell open.

“I found that card in his briefcase last night,” Claire said. “What kind of message does that sound like to you?”

Becky was still too shocked to speak.

“It could be one of the managers,” Claire mused, “but, but she said ‘I believe in you. You make me pr-proud.’” Her features started to crumple again, and Claire put both hands up to hide her sorrow. “That’s something I would say to him,” she moaned through her fingers. “That sounds like someone who loves him!”

“Aww, honey.” Becky put an arm around her shoulder and comforted her as best she could. “You, you can’t believe that.”

“Why not?” Claire bawled. Becky’s husband left her two years ago after similar infidelities. Claire didn’t understand how her friend could be so naïve after going through the same thing so recently.

“You’ve been with George since you were in high school,” Becky said. “You guys love each other more than any couple I know. I mean, you really love each other, you’re not just putting on a show for the kids.”

Claire nodded and sniffled loudly.

“George would never cheat on you,” Becky said. “If he was, you’d know something by now. I think this is just a misunderstanding.”

Claire took her hands from her face and wiped her eyes, glad she didn’t have any messy mascara to contend with. “He works late almost every night,” she said. “He goes on business trips all the time. A lot of times he’s gone for a whole week.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Becky asked.

“I was thinking about it,” Claire said, “this morning, when I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was just lying there thinking about all the times he was gone, all the times he came in after I was asleep. Everything started to make sense.”

Becky smiled encouragingly. “Claire, George is successful at work. You tell me all the time how good he’s doing. He’s working hard for you guys. Everything he does is a sacrifice for the family.”

Claire knew her friend’s words were true, and she was eager to accept them, but still…“What about that card?” she asked. “What about the necklace?”

“Are you sure you didn’t maybe say it on a whim?” Becky offered. “Maybe you were walking downtown and you said you liked it, not thinking much about it. Or maybe you saw it on TV one day. Maybe he thought it meant more to you than it really did. That’s not such a bad thing, Claire. It just means he’s attentive.”

Claire took a deep breath and took a napkin from her purse. She blew her nose and wiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. “You really think so?”

Becky grinned. “I know so,” she said. “I’ve been around you guys. I know how much he loves you. It’s real. You know it is.”

Claire smiled too, but it was mostly forced. “What about that card?” she asked, staring down at her friend’s hands.

“I think it’s one of his co-workers,” she said. “Or maybe his secretary. They’re doing a lot of good things in those big companies nowadays. They treat their employees like real people with feelings. I don’t think that card is from his lover, Claire. I mean, come on. Do you really think George would cheat on you?”

Claire giggled nervously and shook her head. “No,” she said. And she meant it.

“Come on,” Becky said. “We were supposed to be back five minutes ago. Mr. Roubidou is going to make us eat lunch at our desks.”

Claire chuckled. “I think I forgot my lunch today,” she said. “My head’s been so cloudy.” She stood and her muscles cried out, protesting the night with no rest. “Oh,” she said, rubbing her spine. “I’m tired, girl.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Becky said. She stood and gave the card back. “I brought some leftover meatloaf, but I can take you to Golden Corral if you don’t have anything.”

“No,” Claire said. “I’ll take you to Golden Corral. You’re a good friend, Rebecca. I was losing it.”

“It’s okay. Even perfect people go crazy sometimes,” she said with a smile. “And don’t call me Rebecca.”

Becky thought her full name made her feel all thirty-nine of her years. This woman was as quirky as they come, but she was also rational and sensible, all things Claire needed on a day like this.

They went back in and Claire found fault in the very next file she looked at. She took that as a sign that her shattered emotions were on the mend. At lunch they dined pleasantly and talked about the earlier incident only briefly. It took the tone of a silly moment in time, like the time Becky wore a dark blue pump and a black pump to work.

* * *

But by the time Claire got off, the journey pendant was at the forefront of her mind again. She picked up George Jr. and Stacy like any other day. But on the way to Nikki’s school, she started to grill them, not really knowing what she was doing at first.

“How was school?”

George was in the back this time. Stacy sat up front, staring out of the passenger window like a tourist. All of the middle school kids lucky enough to walk home were a mystery to her. She thought they probably had jobs and wood-chopping chores and everything.

Stacy wore denim capris this afternoon with another pink T-shirt. This one had 100% NATURAL sprawled across the chest. Her modest raisins barely dented the fabric.

“How was school?” Claire asked again.

Stacy looked over at her and shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.”

“What about you, boy?”

“It was great!” George Jr. bounced in the backseat like they had cotton candy right before the last bell. “My lima bean is growing!” he announced. He held up his plastic cup, and Claire nodded.

“That’s nice. Did you guys have fun with your daddy last night?”

“Yes!” George Jr. said. Stacy shrugged.

“What’s your deal?” Claire asked her. “You too cool to have fun with your daddy now?”

The little girl smiled. “I’m not too cool.”

“What do you like to do with your dad?” Claire asked. “Where’s the best place he takes you guys?”

“I like the tracks,” George Jr. said immediately.

The Lone Star Park was one place that was just for George and the kids. Possible animal cruelty aside, Claire simply didn’t see what was so enjoyable about sitting in the sun all day waiting for thoroughbreds with odd names to streak by. The fact that her father was a dysfunctional gambler probably had a lot to do with Claire’s opinion. And then there was the possible animal cruelty…

“I like the racetrack, too,” Stacy said.

“What do you like about it?” Claire asked.

“I like the horses’ names,” George said. “And people stand up and yell at them.”

“I like watching Dad,” Stacy said. “When he wins, he gets so happy. He buys us whatever we want.”

“Sometimes he takes some of his friends with him, doesn’t he?” Claire fished.

“Mr. Hodges comes with us sometimes,” George Jr. confirmed.

“Just him?” Claire asked.

“He brings his wife sometimes,” George Jr. said. “She doesn’t hate horses.”

“I don’t hate horses,” Claire said.

“She just doesn’t like them,” Stacy said.

“I never said I don’t like horses,” Claire said.

“Horses are cool,” George Jr. said.

“When Mr. Hodges brings his wife,” Claire went on, “does she ever bring any of her friends with them?”

No one said anything right away, and Claire felt a quick stab of pain behind her sternum. I was right! I knew it.

“What do you mean?” George Jr. asked.

Claire sighed. “Mrs. Hodges,” she said. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she used to have a couple of friends she hung around with all the time, friends that were girls.”

“I never seen any of her friends,” Stacy said.

“I’ve never seen,” Claire corrected.

“She only comes with Mr. Hodges,” George Jr. said. “She doesn’t have any friends.”

Claire let out a pent-up breath, suddenly embarrassed about what she was doing. But in for an ounce, in for a pound, she figured. “What about any other place Daddy takes you?” she asked. “Does he ever have friends there that Mommy doesn’t know?”

Another awkward silence ensued. Claire thought she was going to get a revelation, but no such luck.

“You know all of Daddy’s friends,” Stacy said. “Mr. Hodges, Murray…”

“Mr. Billy!” George Jr. shouted.

“Mr. Tucker,” Stacy said. “Humphrey, Mr. Dalton, Pat…”

“Sherman,” George Jr. offered.

“What was that last one?” Claire asked her daughter.

“Patrick,” Stacy said. “You know him.”

Claire nodded. She did know him.

She dropped the conversation before they pulled to a stop in front of Humboldt High. Nikki was a little older and wiser; she’d want to know why mother was so concerned with such things.

* * *

When they got home, Claire was able to get things off her mind for a while as she got into her normal routine of servitude to the children. George Jr. liked to eat a snack while doing his homework, so Claire popped a corny dog in the microwave before she went up to change clothes.

She let him eat it in his room afterwards because George Jr., unlike his sisters, knew how to munch neatly and clean up his crumbs afterwards. Nikki and Stacy had ants in their rooms two summers in a row. Claire wouldn’t even let them eat a peppermint outside of the kitchen.

After she got everyone started on their homework, Claire went back downstairs to prepare what she hoped was a meal for five, but George Sr. called while she was dicing onions. Claire cradled the cordless on her shoulder and washed the pungent juices from her hands.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby. It looks like I’m not going to make it for dinner tonight.”

This wasn’t an unusual announcement at all. Boeing built aircraft twenty-four hours a day, and George was a lead engineer. Plus he was young and still on the uphill slope of his career. Claire got this call at least twice a week. It used to give her a sense of security, knowing her husband was doing so well. But today things felt different.

“I thought they brought in a few new guys,” she said.

“And they ain’t worth a shit,” George countered. “Don’t know their assholes from a fuselage. Goddamn Aggies. One of them even helped put up that bonfire in ’99. Now he’s in there trying to tell my guys what to do. I’m not leaving till he’s gone.”

“Do you want me to keep a plate for you?” Claire asked.

“No. I’ll pick up something in the cafeteria. Don’t wait up.”

“Okay,” Claire said. “I’ll see you later.” She hung up the phone with a keen understanding that there wasn’t much she could say in situations like this. George was a great provider. He bought her a two-thousand-dollar pendant for their anniversary just yesterday. What kind of wife would Claire be if she nagged every night he had a little overtime?

She called her friend Melanie when she hung up with her husband.

“Hello?”

“Hey, girl. Whatchoo doing?”

“Looking for something to put in the oven.”

“I’m making chicken cacciatore,” Claire said. “You interested?”

”George is working late again?”

“Yeah. He told me not to wait up.”

“That sounds good,” Melanie said. “But I haven’t fixed anything for Rodney and Trevon. They’re not gonna want these leftovers.”

“I think George is cheating on me,” Claire said.

“I’ll be right there.”