The Last Original Wife: A Novel by Dorothea Benton Frank

Author:Dorothea Benton Frank
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780062132468
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2013-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Wes Is Jealous?

It was the tenth e-mail from Cornelia that day. She was driving me nuts. I didn’t like her sending me e-mail to begin with, and second, I sure didn’t want them on the company’s computers. Didn’t she know that? No. She was young and impulsive and undisciplined and Harold sure had his hands full. No, I told her, I didn’t want to talk to her over lunch at the Ritz in Buckhead where they had two hundred bedrooms upstairs and she’d have a key, which I would never ever use. We’d be seen eating a hamburger and Harold would hear about it and he would think the worst. I say that only because if I was in his position, I would think the worst. But let’s get this straight. Even if she did have a head of thick copper-colored hair that drove me crazy, a face like the Madonna, and a gorgeous body to boot, I wouldn’t screw my best friend’s wife for all the money in this world. I mean, I was a man of principle.

Poor Harold. Impotence is bad. Very bad. Especially when he has a young wife. But there has to be something he can do about it. If he couldn’t take the pill, there had to be other ways. I started researching it on the Internet and found a medical site that had all sorts of information on a surgical procedure that seemed to have a very high rate of success. It was some kind of a pump. “Oh, yeah,” I said to the thin air. I remembered some guys in the locker room talking about that.

The intercom buzzed.

“I’ve got Cornelia Stovall on line two for you?” said Gina.

“Ah, jeez. Okay. Put her through.”

“Wes? I’m sorry to bother you, but . . .”

“Cornelia? I’ve got about two seconds for you this morning. I’m very busy.”

“Wes, I’m really, seriously thinking of leaving Harold, and before I pull the trigger, I just wanted to talk to you about it, that’s all.”

“Where are you?”

“In the lobby of your building.”

Great, I thought. This is just great. I hit the print button on my computer.

“Well, then, come on up.” Just what the hell was I supposed to say?

Minutes later, in she walked all decked out in some kind of dress the female meteorologists wear on television—short and tight with way too much cleavage. Gina’s eyes were as big as dinner plates as she led her into my office. I didn’t grow up with women who dressed like Cornelia during the daytime. But Cornelia’s breed of cat didn’t seem too concerned over whether anyone thought they were a lady or not.

“Hi, sweetheart! Come in! Can I get you a Coke?”

“Hey, Wes.” She kissed my cheek. “Do you have a Diet Coke? In those little bottles?”

“Gina? Can you . . . ?”

Gina’s eyebrows were scraping the ceiling. “Sure! Right away.”

Gina closed the door and Cornelia turned to me.

“Well, she’s pretty.”

She leaned her head in the direction of the office door, like she was suspicious that I was up to no good with my secretary.

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