The Woman Next Door by Barbara Delinsky Page B

middle of the week? ”
    “Looks that way,” Russ said calmly.
    “It doesn’t fit the image.”
    “Nope.”
    “Allison was at the same party as him two weekends ago. This doesn’t give me a good feeling.”
    “She’s okay, Georgie.”
    “Does she understand that what he did was wrong—unhealthy — dangerous?”
    “She will. This is still hot off the press. No one knows the facts for sure. Right now, the girls are just into gossip.”
    “Do you think Allison drinks at those parties?”
    “She comes home sober. We know that. We see her.”
    “Not always. Sometimes she goes to Kristen’s house. Or Alyssa’s. We don’t know if other parents look for things like that—and anyway, soon these kids will be driving. What happens if there’s drinking then?”
    “I’ll write a batch of columns on designated drivers.”
    “I’m serious, Russ.”
    “So am I. I don’t want them drinking any more than you do, but so many of them do it at some point that we’d be fools to bury our heads in the sand. You agree with me on this. You’re just feeling removed right now.”
    “I’m feeling hamstrung. I liked it better when we took our kids everywhere, so we knew that they arrived safe and sound. I want those days back.”
    “You wouldn’t say that if you were the primary chauffeur,” Russ remarked. “It’ll make my life a whole lot easier when Allie can drive herself around. I trust her.”
    “So do I,” Georgia said. “It’s her friends I worry about.”
    “They’re good kids.”
    “So’s Quinn.”
    “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
    Maybe she was. But it was hard not to, being several thousand miles away. Was this only Tuesday night? She had been home yesterday morning, but yesterday morning felt at least a week away. “Is Tommy ready for his test?”
    “As ready as he ever is. I checked his homework. He did it right.”
    “He was in a rush to get off the phone. I thought he might be hiding something.”
    “Nah. He’s just chatting on the computer. He probably figures he can tell you everything when you get home. What time are you due?”
    “Three, give or take.”
    “At home? Or are you stopping at the office first?”
    “Home.” She felt a yearning deep in her gut to be there. It was coming more often lately, and stronger. “I don’t like this life, Russ. I feel like I’m missing too much.”
    “I’m on top of things.”
    “I know. But I want to be there, too.”
    “You wanted to work. You can’t have it both ways.”
    Coming from someone else, the comment might have sounded snide. But Russ said it gently. Besides, he was the first to admit that her working eased the pressure on him. He had juggled many more balls, professionally speaking, when he was the sole breadwinner. He made no bones about preferring the life he had now.
    And what was there not to prefer? He was home with the kids,involved with their lives in ways that she used to be—and wasn’t now, and missed. “What else is happening?”
    He made a dismissive sound. “Not much.”
    “Did the lawn guys come?”
    “This morning.”
    “Are the tulips up?”
    “More for Gretchen than the rest of us. She has a green thumb.”
    Georgia didn’t doubt it. Gretchen also had a big bust and a bad attitude, but Georgia didn’t want to discuss either with Russ. He saw things from a male point of view—be it Gretchen or drinking —and she’d had enough for now. “Anything else new?”
    “Not since we talked yesterday. Except that Amanda isn’t pregnant.”
    “Oh, God.” Georgia felt the pain of that. “Poor thing. She must be discouraged.”
    “She is.”
    “What’ll they do next?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
    Georgia would have, but that was because in the last four years Amanda had become a close friend, and they often discussed whens, whys, and what ifs. It was one of the perks of being a woman. Russ might be a marvel at most every aspect of raising kids and taking care of a house, but he