Tables Turned 02

Tables Turned, Part 2

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I didn't see Wesley for two years. Not in person, at any rate. He was often in the business and society sections of our online newspaper

I wasn't surprised to see his engagement announcement ten months later. I had no doubt she was gorgeous in person, if her photos were any indication. She had a pedigree going back to the Mayflower, and her parents were old money. I doubt if they could keep up with Wesley's family, but they were rich enough.

I gave myself about three minutes to wonder what if, before I shelved the sentiment and looked over the real estate brochures. Mike and I had a terrible row when he finally got home, and ended up separated for three months. He finally talked me into counselling, and a lot came out. He was diagnosed with an addictive personality. Not in alcohol per se, but in anything that took his interest. The counselor used golf as a way to get him to see it.

"I understand you play golf?"

He beamed. "Yes, a minimum of twice a week."

Do you have a good set of clubs? My husband uses Magnum Force, and those clubs cost a fortune."

"That's what I use. They're expensive but worth it."

"So then, you're good at it? What's your handicap?"

He stuttered. His golfing buddies told me he sucked at golf. He'd been playing for over a year and had yet to break 100, despite lessons. "I'm a work in progress."

"I see. What does Holly do while you play golf?"

"What? I donno, stay around the house, I guess."

"If she suddenly found an interest in tennis, joined a club, bought a top of the line racquet or two, designer tennis outfits, and signed up for lessons, limiting to just the time you play golf, would that be all right with you?"

"We couldn't afford that! We're saving for a house."

The therapist sighed. "No Mike, Holly is saving for a house. You're taking what would be your contribution and using it as play money. Do you think that's fair?"

One of our biggest bones of contention was his spending habits. I was tired of renting, and longed for a house filled with love, laughter, and children. I make sure he knew what my long term goals were when we married, but he never quite bought into it.

While right in the middle of trying to formulate a response, the therapist changed tactics. "Mike, I understand you know Wesley Henson."

Mike flushed a deep red. "Yeah. I did some side work for him, as a bartender for some parties he hosted."

"Did you like him?"

"He was a pretty straight up guy when it came to business, but no, I didn't like him."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like he was trying to steal my wife."

"How did he do that? Did they ever have secret meetings, inappropriate interactions, lingering touches, that sort of thing?"

"Not that I saw. But he wanted her, you could tell by the look in his eyes!"

"Yet nothing ever came of it, right? By your own admission neither of you have had contact with him for a couple of years. I understand he's engaged. But tell me, Mike. if he wasn't honorable, and you spent more time on your hobbies than you do on Holly, wouldn't she be ripe for the picking? After all, she sits home, bored most likely. If someone swooped in and started working her, you'd never know. Well, you wouldn't until it's too late."

He stared at her, slackjawed. I don't think it had ever occurred to him before, and you could see it bothered him. The therapist gave him some instructions. "Mike, next week, I want you to limit yourself to once on the course, and take the money you would have spent and use it for something that makes Holly happy. Can you do that?"

To my surprise, he did, and instead of going ahead and planning something, he actually asked me if there was something I wanted to do. I was dying to go to a pottery show at the fairgrounds, and he took me, handing me money just before we entered. "What's this?"

It's the money I would have spent on golf today. I want you to spend it on something you want. Please?"

I don't know which surprised me more, that he was giving me the money, or that he really meant what he said. I dragged him from booth to booth, exclaiming over this piece or that, and in the end I bought a frog that almost looked alive. The potter had formed it into a planter, and the display he had was planted in moss that looked like miniscule ferns. "It's great, there's almost nothing to tend to, I think the fern lives off oxygen and a spoonful of water a month."

It came home with us, and I placed on a side table beside the front door, going out to a place the woman told me about to buy the fern. Poor Mike got dragged around again for hours as I examined almost every plant they offered.

Two more weeks and we were done with counseling. "I think you guys got it. Just remember to place each other at the top of your priorities, and you'll be fine. You can call if you need an appointment, but I have every expectation that I'll never see you again. Good luck."

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Things were pretty good for about six months. When Mike played golf on Saturdays, I usually went to lunch, every two weeks ( I would have gone every week but she refused to let me pay) with Millie. The first time surprised me, but I accepted because I really wanted to see her again. She reminded me a lot of my deceased grandmother.

The second time she had Betsy with her, and we spent an hour in pleasant conversation. The next time Aggie and Andi were along. It felt really weird, and as I sat there I wondered how much money was sitting at the table. We always dined at the Rose Room, a female only private club that catered to the really rich. It was members only, and I often wondered what the dues were. I asked Millie once if she thought anyone minded if I was there, and she laughed. "Honey, you fit right in. You may not have money, but you look like money. Besides, I own controlling interest."

That surprised me, but what surprised me more was her giving me a membership card. "This isn't just me. The board of directors have to vote on every member, and it has to be unanimous before it's official. Of course, all of us are on the board, and no woman in her right mind would fight us, but still, they seemed happy with the decision. Come as often as you like, you have an open account and it'll be taken care of."

As I looked at their grinning faces I knew better than to fight it, but I never went unless they were there. Millie knew I wanted a family, and they asked pointed questions about those plans. I was happy to report that since Mike and I were back on track, and saving for a house. "As soon as we find something we can afford, I'm throwing away my pills."

Millie grinned. "When you're ready, be sure to call Allen. He still asks about you on occasion, and he would be offended if you don't go to him when you're ready."

I never asked about Wesley, and generally they didn't bring him up, but every once in a while a snippet would come out. It was apparent Millie and Alice didn't like his intended. They never said why, and changed the subject.

One day Mike came to me, really excited. "Honey, remember Allen Hansen?"

An odd question. "Yes, he's Wesley's father."

"Well, he contacted me today, wanting to know if I was interested in working an event for him. His regular company bowed out at the last minute, some sort of family crisis. It will be fifty guests, and I'll need another bartender and maybe one waitress. I can get Bill and his wife to help me. It's a great opportunity to help with the house fund, but I won't do it unless you agree."

I was touched with his concern, and we were both frustrated with the amount we needed to save. "I see no problem with it. Do you need help?"

No, Margie can handle that amount of guests. If I ever do one bigger, I'll need you then. It'll be about eight hundred after I pay my helpers. Who knows, maybe it'll lead to more work."

He didn't get in until three in the morning, and didn't have the scent of booze on him. "Way too busy to even sip a beer. Here," he said, handing me a wad of bills. "This is what we made, and I didn't count the tips. I'm beat honey, so I'm going to shower and hit the bed."

I was awake, so I counted. Almost eleven hundred! Wow! I put the money up and snuggled down, glowing with happiness. I let him sleep until eleven, then woke him up in a special way. After the best sex we'd had in months, we talked about it.

"It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. It makes me wish I could do more. Allen paid me in cash, and gave my helpers a hundred each. He said he always paid cash when he could, because he knew well the pain of paying taxes. I told him if he ever needed me again, just call."

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We thought it was just a one off, but two weeks later one of Allens' friends called, asking if he could work Saturday. Twenty guests, so he could handle it himself, and he made five hundred.

After that, he seemed to work three weekends of the month, but he always kept the fourth free, and we would use it as a date night. He invested in professional clothes, black pants, crisp white shirts, bowties, shiny black shoes, even a red and then a black vest, depending on the occassion. He took a bartending class at the local community college, and became certified. He was even talking about quitting his day job and going into business.

I was thrilled with the money, and helped him out once or twice on big events. At the first one, the drunks thought I was fair game, until he leapt over the bar and pinned one man's hand back. "All I need is about six more pounds of pressure and every finger on your hand snaps. Now, I expect you to apologize immediately, and then leave. Can you do that for me? Three more pounds."

He'd kept pushing slowly. The man was crying, apologising and blubbering at the same time. Mike let him go, and he scurried out the door. The man hosting the party was staring at him with awe. Mike apologized, but the man grinned and shook his hand. "I only invited the asshole because of business. His boss is here as well, and finally saw his true colors. Think nothing of it, and you can be sure if I need services, you'll be the first one I call." When the night was over, both he and the jerk's boss gave me a hundred apiece, and apologize again.

Mike and I laughed about it all the way home, but I remembered how he came over the bar in my defense, even if it meant losing business. He could barely walk the next morning. Our house account grew by eight thousand in ten months, so it was worth the lost time.He was really wanting to quit his job, but I made him see reason.

"Honey, this is a good gig, but think about it. Our health insurance is through your job, and while we could change it to my company, our plan is higher and doesn't pay nearly the percentage yours does. You get three weeks of paid vacation, ten sick days. and a yearly bonus.

Now, if you quit, our insurance would go up, you automatically lose 35 free paid days a year, and your 401 is doing really well, and you'd lose the fifty per cent match you have because of you seniority. You'd have to get business licenses, pay tax, meet a payroll, and self fund your own retirement plan. You'd only be clearing about 60% of what you are now, plus you'd really have to hustle to drum up enough business to come close to what you were making.

And the big thing is, we'd have very little time together. I'd have to hold on to my job just for the insurance, and your prime times are weekends. Besides, it would make it harder to get a house loan until you've been in business for at least a year, maybe more."

I could tell I had rained on his parade, and I hated it, but we had to look to the future. He thought about it for a day or two and agreed not to quit for right now, but to revisit it a few years down the road.

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Then he called one night, just before he was supposed to get home. "I've got an opportunity, honey. Five of the men here are starting a poker game, and they'll pay me a hundred an hour to stay with them for four hours. What do you think? I wanted to be honest with you, and I promise I won't touch the cards. Four hundred. What do you think?"

I thought about it for a second. "Be really careful, honey, and call me if you're too tired to drive home."

"You're the best! If I'm too tired to drive, I'll call. Love you!"

He shambled in at eight in the morning. I'd just gotten up and was reaching for the phone. He looked a little sheepish. "Sorry honey. I dozed off during the last hour and they left me until their game broke up. I freaked when I saw the time, but in the end it was probably a good thing. It meant I could function on the drive." He started pulling bills out of pockets, spilling them on the kitchen table. It was a lot of bills. He always tried to get paid in cash, to avoid taxes.

"I need you to tell me you still love me, and let me sleep for another four hours."

I hugged him, and he didn't smell good. It was the scent of stale air and cigars, not perfume and booze. I pushed him back, grinning. "You stink! Don't you dare lay down until you've showered. I'll wake you in five hours."

He crashed within seconds of his head hitting his pillow. I let him sleep for six, waking him to shower and get dressed. "You should have woken me!"

"Why, so you could drag ass around all day and then go right back to bed? I wanted you coherent enough to hold a conversation. Now get dressed. I know it's a little early, but I've made dinner. You must be starved."

He was, almost all he'd had since lunch the day before were appetizers, and few of those. I'd made his favorites, pork chops, creamed fresh corn, mashed potatoes, and green beans. It was impressive to see him take in that much food. Afterwards we cuddled on the sofa. I asked if he wanted wine and he refused, saying he'd seen enough alcohol fof a while.

"I counted the money, fifteen hundred and thirty dollars. I'm impressed."

"Put a grand in the home account. Keep the rest, to pay for a couple of days at the cottage."

The cottage was the place we'd spent our honeymoom, while we were still poor. It was small, cute, and was right beside the headwaters of a river. It was also close to things we liked, like a community theater and two arts and crafts centers. We had a ball, watched a play, dined at a buffet style restaurant famed in the area, and the next day we hit the arts centers. I saw a glass vase that I absolutely loved until I looked at the price tag, and when we got home it was in my bag. I cried for thirty minutes.

After that, about once a month, he'd pull an allnighter. I didn't like it but the money was nice, and we were getting close to our target, enough for the downpayment as soon as we saw something we liked. I even asked MIllie if she would tell Allen we were seriously looking. Two days later invitations from three real estate companies showed up in the mailbox, urging me to log on for virtual views. I found two that looked really good, and more importantly, in our price range. Both were near good schools, something to look at for the future. My ultimate goal was to be in my own home and become pregnant within two years.

It wasn't noticeable at first, but Mike began to work odder hours than usual, sometimes two days in a row. He always brought home good money, but something was off and I could feel it. To make it worse, he was a bit evasive, saying he had an opportunity he was checking, that may result in some serious money. Then he assured me it was legal, and not to worry about it. Naturally I worried about it.

He got vague and evasive when I'd ask him who he was working for. "I've got new people I'm working with. The pay is much better than what I'd been getting before, so I'll be going with them for a while longer. We're almost there, babe. Let me do my thing and you'll be griping at me to mow the lawn at our new house in no time."

That was my Kryptonite and he knew it.

Things went along nicely for a few weeks, and then one day he came home broke. "The asshole stiffed me! Said he'd had some setbacks and wouldn't be able to pay me. I'm not just out the pay, I bought the booze and snacks! Two grand! He promised he'd have it this weekend, and I told him if he didn't I'd kick his ass."

I was naturally upset, but I tried to calm him down. "Don't fret it, honey. I can't believe a regular customer doing this to you."

"It wasn't one of the regulars, it was someone new, but the guys vouched for him. Bad mistake on my part."

He finally got calmed down, and worked another job the next weekend. When he came home he had money literally dripping out of his pockets. Three grand. "The guy showed up and paid me, giving me three hundred extra, and the guy I worked for had sixty guests. I bitched him out a little because I couldn't handle that myself, so I got Bob and Margie last minute, having to pay them more to get them to come. I was going to call you, but you and your friends had been looking forward to catching up for six weeks, and I didn't want to ruin it for you."

We were getting close to our goal, and I told him I wanted to go looking at houses next weekend. "Can't," he said. "I already committed to a two day gig on Lake Lundy. Why don't you go yourself, and if you like it we'll go together next week, with the checkbook."

So I did go, by myself. The realtor was a friend of the Hansen family, not directly working for Allen, but did a lot of sub work for them, helping each other find the right fit for the client. It was a mutually satisfying arrangement that benefitted both.

"So then, a friend of the Hansens. Know them well?"

"Not really. It's more of a friend of a friend type of thing. I've been to a couple of their parties, and I'm friends with Millie Fountain, Andrea Melton, Betsy Cromwell, and Agatha Mortonsen."

I'd just name dropped four of the richest women in the area, and she immediately perked up. "Good people to have as friends. I sold Andi her house, did you know that? Well, technically I sold it to her husband, but you know as well as I that when women say 'I want', they usually get, at least at that level."

We toured four homes in my price range, and I really liked one. In the suburbs but easy access to the city, half a block away from one of the top elementary schools in the state, and crime in the area was almost nonexistent. I almost wrote her a good faith check on the spot, but stopped, deciding to let Mike see it. "I love this one. It has everything I'm looking for, quiet neighborhood, a big yard, easy access to everything. Unfortunately, my husband is working this weekend, so can we get together on Tuesday?"

"Of course, if it's still on the market. This one should sell fast, but if we miss it, we'll find you something just as good. And when you go for financing, Allen said to be sure and use his bank, and that he would see you got a good deal."

I was so excited when I got home I could barely sleep, moving the dozens of photos to the computer so Mike could see them better. I couldn't wait for him to get home.

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Then Mike didn't come home. Not Sunday night, not Monday night, nor the rest of the week. I made a missing persons report after 48 hours, and the detective took the details and a recent picture.

"It's probably nothing. Were you guys getting along? Any drama? Sometimes one of the spouses just takes a break to get their head on straight, then come back home. Have there been any unusual withdrawals from your bank accounts? I hate to say it, but sometimes they just take the money and run."