Pete meandered out to the kitchen. He sighed with happiness when he smelled his favorite dinner warming in the oven—stuffed peppers, mashed potatoes, Mexicali corn. And there would be sour cream cucumbers with lots and lots of onions in a covered dish in the refrigerator. He knew there were fresh, warm rolls someplace, just the way he knew there was a strawberry rhubarb pie. It didn’t get any better than this.

No one was going to take this away from him.

No one.

Andy Hollister stared at his wife, wondering what in the hell had ever possessed him to marry her. She was clingy, insecure, demanding, and could turn ugly in a heartbeat. She was turning ugly now, screaming that he spent more time with his sister than he did with her. Amy called her Gimmee, an apt name, since the only thing that made her happy was a charge card and a full tank of gas.

He was so wired up he didn’t give a damn what he said. “You know what, Jill, I don’t care anymore. I’m leaving. Do whatever the hell you want. Take the house, take your car, and you can have the furniture, too. I’ll go stay with Amy. You’re going to have to get a job, though, because the minute I walk out of this house, the bills you run up from here on in are yours. Tell your lawyer to see my lawyer, who, by the way, is Pete Danson. It’s time you got off that skinny ass of yours and did something worthwhile with your life. Staying in bed till noon, watching soap operas and talking to your mother for hours on the phone every day is not a healthy lifestyle. Don’t tell me it isn’t true. Amy told me she’s stopped by during the day and that’s what she’s seen you do. That means I will no longer be supporting that lazy mother of yours, too.” This last was called over his shoulder as he made his way to the second floor, where he started throwing things into suitcases.

“You’re leaving!” Jill cried, following him. “You can’t leave me. My mother doesn’t believe in divorce. I don’t believe in divorce. Unpack those bags right now, Andrew Hollister. This is all your sister’s fault. Damn it, Andy, why can’t you see how she’s ruining our marriage.”

“What part of, ‘I’m leaving and will stay with Amy,’ didn’t you understand? I’ve had it. Let me make it even plainer to you. I no longer want to be married to you and your mother. Three’s a crowd.”

“Make that four, Andy Hollister. Your sister is more involved in this marriage than I am.” She clawed at him, her silver jewelry, which wasn’t paid for yet, clanging on her arms. He shook her off and stormed out of the house. He could hear her sobbing and screaming as she threw things against the windows. One of them shattered. He shrugged. Light-headed with relief, he headed for his sister’s house.