I took the weekend off! But here’s something from today. So much bad plot stuff, but I have extra time this year to work it out! Here goes:

 

Steve began to back out of the dining room, the three women approaching him like lionesses stalking a gazelle.

“Please, Laura,” he pleaded, “I didn’t even think of her till your housewarming. She was here with Gustav, he did the catering, remember? I saw her in the hallway, handing out canapes, and I had to have her.”

“And he did,” said Tiffany. “In that clunky bedroom your sister’s in now.”

“Once it started, I couldn’t stop!” said Steve. “It’s this damn house! It was her idea, scaring you. She thought you’d leave, and I could divorce you.”

“Oh, I see,” said Laura. “And since you divorced me, you’d get to keep everything.”

“Something like that,” said Steve, shaking his head. He took Laura’s hand. “Please, Laura, don’t screw me over on this. We can work something out.”

Laura grabbed her hand away from his. “You get both of us,” she said, “is that what you want?”

“I don’t know!” he replied. “I can’t think here! There’s too damn many women here! I’m going in to the office. Maybe I can think there.” He stormed out of the dining room. The three women stood in a circle staring at each other.

“You!” said Laura, pointing at Tiffany. “You can get out now.” Tiffany began to back away. “Wait,” she said, “where did you find those hankies? The ones with the initials.”

Tiffany made it to the swinging doors to the back stairs. “Attic,” she said, “it’s full of dusty old crap.” She turned and bolted, Laura and Sam hearing her footsteps pound up the steps.

“Your dinners weren’t half this entertaining in Devon,” said Samantha. “I’ve got a date with a stockbroker in an Armani suit.” She walked to the dining room door and paused. “At the Cupola. Don’t wait up for me.” Sam tossed her head, her hair swinging, and Laura was alone. Alone in her beautiful dining room, lavender silk draperies, mahogany paneling, gas fire blazing warmly.

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