Mary had never understood or appreciated football, and she didn’t mind saying so. Her husband’s gaze reluctantly left the television screen, where a bunch of men in tight pants and large helmets chased after an oddly shaped ball. As far as she was concerned, it was ridiculous the way they grunted and called out a few numbers now and then and groped their privates right on national television.

“Greg, are you going to help me or not?”

Her husband slowly stood up, his eyes still on the TV. “Honey, it’s third down and inches.”

He might as well be speaking Greek, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. From the sudden reaction of the crowd, something had happened. Greg muttered, shaking his head in a disparaging manner. Mary pretended not to hear and walked back out to the car.

A moment later, he met her in the garage. “We’re losing.”

“Sorry, darling.” She hoped she sounded sympathetic, but she didn’t try very hard. Men and their football.

“What on earth did you buy?” he complained, lifting the last of the blue plastic bags from the car’s trunk.

“Oh, various things,” she said dismissively. “This Christmas basket project hasn’t been a positive experience,” she went on, following her husband into the house.

“Why not?”

Distressed and angry, she blurted out, “You won’t believe this. Sarah McDowell was there!”

“At Wal-Mart?” Even Greg sounded surprised. “Don’t tell me we’ve lost our shopping privileges there, too?”

“Very funny.” The incident at the Value-X would haunt her forever.

“So you got along better?”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I did discover the problem. We had the same list.”

“For the Christmas baskets?”

“Yes.” Mary set her load on top of the kitchen counter.

The football game ended, and Greg reached for the remote control to turn off the television set. He opened the first sack and seemed pleasantly surprised to find a stash of candy bars. “For me?” he asked. Without waiting for her to respond, he peeled the wrapper halfway down a Baby Ruth bar and took a bite.

“You can have them all.” She threw herself onto the sofa.

Her husband walked into the family room and sat down. “You’d better tell me exactly what happened.”

“What makes you think anything did?”

Greg chortled. “I haven’t been married to you all these years without knowing when something’s bothering you.”

“Oh, Greg,” she moaned. “I behaved like such an idiot.” She longed to cover her face with her hands.

“What went wrong this time?”

She shook her head, unwilling to reveal how low she’d sunk. One thing she’d discovered years ago was still true: Sarah McDowell brought out the very worst in her. It never failed. Mary became another person whenever Sarah was around—a person she didn’t like.

“Do you want to talk about it?”