Every Other Wednesday by Susan Kietzman

Author:Susan Kietzman [Kietzman, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Joan walked away from the cashier’s window, grinning as she recounted the thirty-six hundred-dollar bills that had just been pushed her way underneath the glass that separated the patrons from the money. It was not enough to replenish her vacation account, but it was a good start, a very good start. It was almost noon, and the effects of the double vodka and soda she had consumed at ten thirty were fading, leaving her with a slight headache and very hungry. She thought about getting something to eat in one of the casino food court restaurants, but opted instead to go home for a grilled cheese followed by a short nap. She had promised Stephen her mother’s meatloaf that night for dinner. It was one of his favorite comfort foods, which he routinely sought to combat the pressures and stress of his job. There had been talks at the bank about cost cutting, in an effort to counterbalance the price tag associated with stricter federal regulations. And even though Stephen thought his position was secure, it was an uneasy time at the office. He knew already that two of his colleagues would be let go at the end of the month.

The two glasses of water and cup of coffee that Joan had chased her vodka with were making their presence known in her bladder. She’d have to use the restroom before returning to the garage for her car. Being familiar with the casino, Joan chose to wind slightly out of her way to use the slightly out of everyone’s way women’s room. It was a four-stall bathroom fashioned out of pink stone, porcelain, and tinted glass, located next to a florist shop that had been closed for a couple weeks for renovations. This particular bathroom was always clean and usually empty, like the lavish facilities in high-end hotel lobbies. And it was quiet, which was a refreshing change from the hum of the casino floor.

Joan set her coat down on the long padded bench in the mirrored alcove and then locked herself into the third stall, hanging her purse by its strap on the door hook. Less than a minute later, she heard the door to the women’s room open. The sharp clap of leather boot soles on stone stopped after not more than a dozen steps. The person did not enter a stall, choosing instead, Joan guessed, to check herself out in the mirror. This was, after all, what many women did in the bathroom; they relieved their biological urges, washed their hands, and then gazed at their reflections. Some were shy about it, conscious of other women around them, and took no more than a half minute to comb their hair or reapply lipstick, making an effort to look at themselves only long enough to get the job done. Others, either more vain or not cognizant of the judgmental opinion of competitive women, spent multiple minutes checking themselves out. Did they not have bathroom mirrors at home?

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