His Other Wife by Deborah Bradford Page B

turn your son against his own father.”
    “If you had talked to me first it would have been different,” Hilary stated, her voice steady in spite of Pam’s charge. What
     an absurd accusation! “Seth wouldn’t have seen my shock. I wouldn’t have stolen his joy at your gift.” Then, “I’m doing the
     best that I can, Pam. You have to realize that.”
    But Eric’s wife wouldn’t be convinced. Pam shook her head with her chin raised in censure, disapproval oozing from every pore.

Chapter 7
    A s she prepared for the family meal, Hilary aligned plates along the table with military precision, plink, plink, plink . She set silverware alongside each napkin with the same attention as she would have laid out sterile surgical instruments.
     The growl of the ice maker spitting ice into glasses suited her mood. She balanced a head of lettuce on the board beside the
     sink and severed it in one slice. Anything to keep her mind off Pam’s finger-pointing. Anything to keep from taking offense
     at the woman who had come into Hilary’s life and seemed intent on disgracing her.
    The sun, still bright in the kitchen, was giving Hilary a headache. George and Ruth came through the door, George carrying
     a Tupperware carrier with a three-layer chocolate cake. “Oh, that cake looks wonderful ,” Alva said. “Ruth. You’ve outdone yourself. That’ll go great with my homemade ice cream.”
    Alva had been working on the ice cream ever since they’d left the school grounds after graduation. To Ruth, she listed the
     entire roster of ingredients she’d used, starting with the eggs and not stopping until she reached the vanilla. Hilary knew
     that was how her mother dealt with stress. When Alva felt people were tense around her, she talked a mile a minute to fill
     in the spaces. And as Hilary loaded food on the table, there were plenty of spaces. The air in the room felt as explosive
     as lightning.
    “Mom. Come sit down.” Hilary set a pitcher of ice water beside Alva’s chair. She stood on tiptoe as if that would make her
     voice louder. “Seth? Where’s Seth? Are the boys outside? We’re ready to eat.”
    Looking grim, Eric escorted Pam to the table, his hand touching the small of Pam’s back. Lily came out of the bathroom with
     wet hands. “Honey. Use the towel,” Pam said.
    George spoke a brief prayer and they unfolded their napkins, smoothed them in their laps. Serving dishes passed, chicken and
     wait-a-day salad and bean casserole, as the silence swelled. Alva babbled on about a neighbor who had thought she’d let her
     dog inside only to turn around and find that she’d opened her door and let in a stray goat. At the end, realizing that no
     one was going to pick up the conversational slack, Alva let the story fizzle.
    After that there was nothing but the sound of silverware against the plates. Hilary glanced around the table and just happened
     to catch the look passing between Pam and Eric. Eric began by clearing his throat. “Son,” he said. “We’d hoped you could clear
     your schedule for us. We’d like to spend a little more time with you tonight.”
    Hilary’s breath caught in her throat. She almost blurted it out: Oh, he’s not doing that. He’s got big plans. But she bit back the words. That was the worst thing she could do right now, make it sound like she was trying to interfere.
    Seth looked her way for help. Hilary shook her head. You’re on your own with this one. There wasn’t anything she could do.
    “Dad. I’ve got —”
    “We were thinking we might ride the L downtown. Show the kids where you and I used to fly kites by the lakeshore. Have a walk
     and see the sights.” Then, after a slight hesitation, “Hilary, Alva, we want you to come with us, too.” Although it was obvious
     they didn’t really.
    “We’re eating,” Hilary said, trying to warn Eric off. “Can we discuss this after?”
    “Well,” he said. “Pam and I thought we might talk about it now. While