Ladies' Night Andrews, Kay (great novels .txt) 📖

the equivalent of Scopolamine for what he did to me and my family.”

Grace’s mind flashed again to the scene of Ben and J’Aimee in the darkened garage. She closed her eyes and willed the scene to disappear, the same way she had nearly every night since it had occurred.

“That’s right,” Suzanne murmured, pressing her fingertips to her forehead.

“I don’t have any drugs to give you,” Paula said, her face flushing. She was looking past Camryn and the others, directly at the back of the room, where Stackpole sat.

Grace heard a little gasp at this, but then, at almost the same time, she felt the tote bag at her feet move. She dropped her journal to the floor as a cover, reached in, and scratched the warm furry head there, felt a tiny pink tongue rasp against the palm of her hand. She stole a backward glance at the judge, who was staring down at his watch, pointedly tapping the crystal. She sat back up again.

“I can tell you, though,” Paula said, her voice rising, “that until you spend time figuring out what went wrong with your marriage, until you stop blaming yourself, your partner, the other lover, you will never move past those scenes like the one Camryn describes. Even if your marriage is irretrievably, undeniably finished now, there was a time when you had hope. You had love. Whatever your version of love is. Next session, I want you to try really hard to get past your bitterness and write down one quality, perhaps one anecdote, that might explain what drew you to your partner. What about that person made you happy?”

“That’s easy. It was the big ol’ honkin’ ring he gave me,” Ashleigh whispered, with a giggle, fingering the bauble she wore around her neck.

Paula hadn’t heard, as usual. “I’ll see you all next week.”

Grace looked at her watch. It was barely 7:30 P.M. Why was Paula suddenly in such a hurry to end the session? When she looked up again, she saw Stackpole speeding toward the door with the look of a man with a mission.

25

“Sandbox?” Camryn murmured, as the group drifted out to the parking lot.

“I’m in,” Ashleigh nodded vigorously. She turned to Suzanne. “You coming?”

“Well, I guess I could. I did tell my daughter I might be a little late,” Suzanne said.

Grace looked at Wyatt. “How about you?”

He hesitated. Camryn tugged at his arm. “Oh, come on. You can’t hold out forever.”

“I thought this was a girls-only thing,” he said. “No boys in the tree fort?”

Ashleigh gave him a wink. “For you, we’ll lower the rope ladder. Right, ladies?”

*   *   *

A hastily scribbled RESERVED sign was taped to the booth in the corner. Rochelle hurried over to the table when Grace pushed through the front door. “They’re coming tonight, right?”

“Yeesss,” Grace found herself slightly annoyed at her mother’s eagerness, but she couldn’t say why. While Rochelle returned to her post behind the bar, she slipped outside with the tote bag, and when she returned five minutes later, the rest of the group were arranged around the table, each with a drink in front of them. She slid into the booth beside Wyatt, who was sipping a beer.

“What was going on with Paula tonight?” Ashleigh asked.

“Here you go,” Rochelle said, as she placed a glass of white wine in front of Grace and a big basket of freshly made popcorn in the center of the table. She plunked herself down beside Camryn at the opposite end of the booth.

“Why?” Rochelle wanted to know. “What was Paula doing?”

“She was, like, sober,” Ashleigh said. “All dressed up. With shoes and everything. She actually kind of looked like what I pictured a professional therapist would look like. It was kind of crazy.”

“Mm-hmm. Mama was definitely on some new meds tonight,” Camryn agreed. “There were a couple times tonight she managed to almost sound coherent. Not that I agree with any of that forgiveness crap she was selling,” she added hastily.

“I couldn’t get over how changed she was. And when Judge Stackpole came in, I was really struck by the transformation,” Suzanne said. “It was like she was hoping for his approval. Dying for it.”

“The judge showed up?” Rochelle asked, her eyes widening.

“Asshole,” Wyatt muttered, staring down at his beer.

All the women turned to look at him at once. “Can’t help it,” he said defensively. “He’s gonna ruin my son’s life, letting Callie drag him off to Birmingham. How often will I be able to get to Birmingham to see him? Every other month? Probably not even that. Even if I could forgive her, I’ll never forgive him, if I lose my kid.”

Ashleigh waved the straw from her half-empty margarita glass in the air. “I think Paula’s got a big ol’ school-girl crush on Stackhole.”

“Stackhole, that’s good!” Rochelle said. “What do you think, Grace?”

Grace had been surreptitiously slipping a handful of popcorn in the direction of the tote bag, which was between her feet. She was distracted by the soft snuffing sounds and hoped the din of the bar would drown them out.

“Well … I agree, Paula was definitely on her best behavior tonight. And I did wonder about Stackpole’s appearance. Why was he there? Paula told us she reports to him on our progress. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than sit in on our sad little sessions?” She turned to Suzanne. “Do you think maybe there’s something going on between them?”

“Maybe,” Suzanne said, her voice tentative.

“Eeew,” Ashleigh said, wrinkling her nose. “Paula and that … old man? And isn’t he married or something?”

“He’s not all that old. My lawyer, Mitzi, was in law school with him. When he was appointed to the bench, he was the youngest judge in Florida. But, yes, he’s definitely married,” Grace said. “During our hearing he made a point of telling my lawyer that his own wife has no problems running his household with two thousand dollars a month.”

“Which pays for what?” Rochelle asked. “I’ll bet he doesn’t expect her to pay a mortgage