A Little Secret between Friends. C.J. Carmichael

was right about the food. Out of habit she’d prepared enough for Lara, as well, even though her daughter was out. But if she had food for twenty, she’d never invite Neil to her table.

      “What do you want? Did you forget Lara is sleeping over at Jessica’s tonight?”

      “Can’t a man stop by for a friendly visit with his ex-wife?” Neil smiled, managing to look boyishly attractive, even though, like her, he’d passed forty.

      He was a debonair man, her ex-husband. Medium height, slender, he wore a suit really well. His hair was dark and thick, and the lingering trace of his English accent added to his misleading appeal.

      “But actually, I’ve brought over Lara’s passport application papers for you to sign.” He placed them, plus his silver pen, the one she’d given him for Christmas on Lara’s behalf, on the island.

      Sally leaned over and pulled the documents closer. Neil’s father, who had worked in investment banking, had brought his family to Canada for the two years he’d been stationed to work in Calgary. When the upper executive had had a massive heart attack and died, Neil’s mother had returned to Kent. Neil, who’d been accepted to law school at the University of Alberta, had remained.

      This summer Neil planned to take Lara to visit his mother. Sally hated the idea of their daughter making an overseas trip without her, but she couldn’t deny Lara the chance to get to know her one surviving grandparent.

      She executed the distinctive loop at the end of Stowe, then dropped the pen. “There.”

      Neil folded the pages and stuffed them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I see you’ve poured yourself a glass of wine. Drinking alone, Sal?”

      The open bottle sat on the counter behind her, next to the cutting board with the diced chicken, peppers and onions. But Sally ignored both it and Neil’s question. She’d given him what he wanted. It was time for him to leave. To her dismay, though, he sidled along the island. Moving closer.

      “Come on, Sal. Let’s drink a toast to your good news. What?” One eyebrow arched in casual question. “You didn’t think I knew that my ex-wife is the front-runner to replace Judge Kendal on the bench?”

      Oh, no, he’d heard the rumors. She should have guessed he would have. And that he’d be quick to react. Her professional accomplishments always triggered Neil’s worst displays of temper. Too late she wished she’d lied about dinner and said she was expecting company. Neil would never buy the story now. Especially since she’d set only one plate at the counter. Taken down just the single wineglass.

      Maybe she could improvise…

      “Neil, you really need to be going. I have to eat quickly. My book club is meeting here at seven.” That was only half an hour from now. And a smart man like Neil would factor in the possibility that someone might arrive early…

      “Sal.” He gave her a disappointed smile. “Don’t you think I know you meet with your book club on the second Friday of every month? Not the third.”

      “We had to change for April,” she said, doing her best to speak slowly. “Because of spring break.”

      “I don’t think so. You always were a lousy liar. But that’s probably a good thing. Judges shouldn’t lie, should they, Sal?”

      “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Neil. Willa isn’t retiring for another two months. And I’m sure there are other worthy candidates for the position.” Sally couldn’t be sure she would get the appointment until she had the official call from the federal justice minister.

      “Who do you think you’re fooling with that bogus humility? Not me, I assure you.”

      He had that smile on his face now. Beth had called it the ice-man smile. He used it in court occasionally when he was moving in for the kill on a vulnerable witness. But to Sally the ice-man smile never seemed as cruel, as ruthless, as when she felt it directed at herself.

      “Whatever, Neil.”

      “Justice Stowe. Sounds very distinguished, doesn’t it?”

      “Neil—”

      “Long-term board member of that stupid battered women’s shelter. Past president of the law society. The volunteer hours in dispute resolutions. Looks like all your goody-goody work is actually paying off.”

      With each word, Sally could sense his anger building. There was no avoiding a full-scale argument now, she knew from experience. Any word, any movement, even a facial twitch on her part could set him off. Might as well get it over with, she decided.

      “That’s right. It’s all paying off. With any luck, in two months I’m going to be appointed to the bench. Is that why you dropped by tonight—to offer your congratulations?”

      The changes that fell over his face were utterly predictable. First his eyebrows lowered into a frown. His smile tightened. His eyes narrowed.

      He moved again, rounding the island and then cornering her against the counter.

      “Congratulations?” He spit out the word. “You think you deserve a pat on the back for reneging on your real job—raising our child and being a good wife?”

      “I’m not your wife anymore.”

      “To me you are. I may have signed those papers….”

      He’d had to sign them. She’d known him well enough to serve them when he was at work, in a meeting. He couldn’t pretend to his colleagues that nothing was amiss. So he’d pretended, instead, that the divorce was his idea. She didn’t care about that. All she’d wanted was to finally be legally free of the man.

      Except she wasn’t free. Would never be free. Not as long as they shared custody of Lara. Neil had their daughter alternate weekends and every Wednesday evening. He’d pick her up from dry-land training at Canada Olympic Park, take her out for dinner, then bring her home around nine.

      “To me, you’ll always be mine. You’re still sexy, Sal. In some ways even more than when you were in your twenties. What do you say, babe? Maybe we should celebrate your good news in bed.”

      She couldn’t stop herself from cringing. The memories of times in their marriage when she’d made love with him in order to avoid a fight came back in a rush of shame. Why had she married so quickly? So thoughtlessly?

      With hindsight, none of her reasons seemed compelling enough to warrant landing herself with Neil Anderson for the rest of her life.

      “Don’t look at me that way. I remember when you couldn’t get enough in the sack. But now that you’re about to become a judge, you’re too good for me. Is that it, Sal?”

      He’d moved to within touching distance. Armani started whining again.

      “Get out of my face, Neil. You may be scaring the dog, but you’re not scaring me. Those days are long over.”

      He could scream and yell and rant at her as long as he liked. She didn’t care. As long as he was mad about something that didn’t affect Lara, it simply didn’t matter.

      That’s what Sally told herself, but her body refused to take the presence of an angry, hulking man in her kitchen quite so lightly. She could feel all the old warning signs. Racing heart, damp palms, shallow breathing. She forced herself to fill her lungs with air and release it slowly.

      Neil watched her face with the fascination of a scientist observing slides under a microscope. “You’re a coldhearted bitch. You’ve been judging men for years. Now you’ll get to do it in court. Break their balls and send them to jail for as long as the law allows. God help the slobs who look for mercy from you.”

      Sally didn’t listen to the words. She was used to Neil’s diatribes. He had several favorite themes, from her dearth of maternal instincts for their daughter, to her hatred of men in general, and him in particular. She was frigid, a bitch, and worse…

      At