“We’re having the Hendersons over for dinner on Saturday,” she said on Thursday.
For the first few days, Laura tried to ignore it. She’d wash dishes and glance out the window to see Frank slowly seesawing back and forth, staring at the fence. The neighbor’s poodle would bark. Frank would not flinch. husband on monkey rocker
But after dessert, when Laura went to the kitchen to make coffee, she heard it. “We’re having the Hendersons over for dinner on
“And you’re a grown woman who cares more about what the Hendersons think than whether I’m happy!” The neighbor’s poodle would bark
Saturday came. The Hendersons arrived. Laura had staged the living room beautifully—the monkey rocker was banished to the back corner behind a large fiddle-leaf fig plant. Frank was on his best behavior. He served drinks. He laughed at Henderson’s golf stories. He carved the roast.
It came in a giant, unmarked cardboard box. Laura signed for it, thinking it was the new dehumidifier she’d ordered for the basement. When Frank got home from his shift at the county records office, he wrestled the box inside with the grim determination of a bomb disposal expert.