BooksBarbecue
Back The House Party
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. April 2008
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. Author’s Note
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. About the Author
  57. About the Publisher

As they said goodbye at the door of the restaurant, Maja couldn’t wait to get away. The immediate embarrassment of having her credit card declined was giving way to a larger sense of unease. Was the credit card already maxed? She wasn’t sure how that could have happened, when Ted had promised her that he was freeing up space so they didn’t have to wait to put in orders for the new appliances. It was possible he’d already ordered them, but that wasn’t like Ted. Especially not now, when he seemed to be totally consumed with work.

Aneeta was going to pick up her boys from school, and Maja walked back to her house alone. She called Ted’s cell, and when he didn’t answer, she hung up and dialed his office number, which went to the firm’s voice mail. She tried his cell again, and this time she left a message, her voice sounding high and strange to herself as she recounted the problem with the credit card. She wanted to call the credit card company, but although her cards had her name on them, the accounts were technically Ted’s, and it was always a pain when she contacted customer service because she didn’t know his passwords and pin numbers.

When she got to Aneeta’s house, she grabbed her ATM card and walked to the drugstore a few blocks away. She was worried there was something she didn’t know about the credit card accounts, and her stomach felt queasy.

In the drugstore she took out cash to pay Aneeta back, and then went to pick out a shampoo. She’d forgotten to pack her own, so she’d been using handfuls of the kid shampoo that was kept in the hall bathroom and wanted to replace it before she left. She couldn’t remember exactly what scent they used, and she surreptitiously opened a bottle to check its smell. It was overpoweringly sweet, like sipping from a leftover cosmopolitan in the middle of the night when you thought you were reaching for a glass of water. Maja shoved the bottle back onto the shelf as she fought a wave of nausea. Then she stood very still, trying to think.

It’s just the scent, she thought. Too sweet. Or her anxious, unsettled stomach. It couldn’t be . . . she didn’t even let herself finish the thought. But it persisted, like the slightly metallic taste in her mouth.