Body Language

“Dad is an honorable man, Mom,” Ellie insisted. “Something is obviously very wrong, and you need to find out what. Maybe he’s got a brain tumor—that affects people in different ways.”

“How could he have a tumor? He doesn’t have a brain.”

“You’ve got to think this through rationally, after you’ve had time to digest everything. You and Dad need marriage counseling. You can’t just throw away thirty-five years and call it quits.”

“I’m not the one who needs a shrink. That would be your perverted father. He’s the one sending love letters to other women.”

Ellie sighed. “Mom…”

“What am I going to do now? I’m fifty-five years old. Who’s going to want me now?”

The hurt, fear and insecurity Ellie heard in her mother’s voice filled her with sadness and empathy. As a woman who’d been dumped by the man she loved, she could relate. As a woman who was presently without a man in her life and had none on the horizon, except for her gay trainer, but he didn’t count, she could relate.

As a woman who believed men thought primarily with the appendage dangling between their legs, she could most certainly relate!

Sucking in her breath, Ellie tried to sound calm and reasonable, though she was feeling anything but. “Mom, you’re a lovely woman, and you’re definitely not over the hill. But I don’t think you should be thinking along those lines just yet. You don’t have all the facts. You need to talk to Dad and find out what’s been going on, and for how long, who this woman is, if he’s been seeing her in person, or if it’s just an Internet type of infatuation.”

“What do you mean, just? He betrayed our marriage vows. I read some of the mail he sent to her. It was disgusting. He talked about how he wanted to kiss her breasts, and other more personal areas. That bastard hasn’t kissed my breasts in over fifteen years. Not to mention that he’s never done the other thing.”

Ick factor alert! Ick factor alert!

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images. “Please, Mom, you don’t need to go into detail. What you and Dad do privately is—”

“And do you think he ever takes me out? Or buys me flowers or candy? I should die before he’d ever put his hand in his pocket to buy me a present. But he bought that puttana, that whore, a bracelet. I saw her thank-you e-mail. And she mentioned diamonds. Diamonds! Can you imagine? I’m just sick about it. My engagement ring is so small that I need a magnifying glass to see the stone.”

Ellie heaved a sigh, wondering how any man could be so foolish, but wondering in particular how her sensitive, intelligent father could have done what her mother was accusing him of. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I don’t know what to say, except I love you and you will get through this, but it’s going to take some time.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart, which is why I’m coming to New York to stay with you for a while. I need time to think things through. We’ll have a wonderful time, you’ll see.”

WHOA, MAMA!

Ellie’s ears began ringing. She hit the side of her head with her palm, just to make sure she’d heard Rosemary correctly. “What did you say?”

“I need time away from here, Ellie. I’m going to come and stay with you. The change of scenery will do me good.”

Ellie wanted to be a good daughter. She wanted to be supportive during her mother’s difficult time.

But…holy shit! She did not want her mother, aka Mrs. Clean, for a roommate.

“Mom, wait! I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You need to work things out with Dad, or at least try to work things out. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I’ll talk to your father when he gets home. But I’m not making any promises. I’m a proud woman. I’m not going to take second place to every bimbo that comes along. I respect myself more than that.”

“I want you to call me as soon as you’ve spoken to Dad and let me know what he has to say. I’m sure he’s going to apologize and be extremely sorry for hurting you like this. No doubt he thought it was a harmless flirtation.”

“With a harmless flirtation, you get a card. Diamonds put this into a whole other category. You’re a woman, Ellie. You know what I’m talking about.”

Unfortunately, Ellie did.

First Michael shows up, then she finds out that her hunky trainer is gay, and now this.

Her life was getting too damn complicated. It was spinning out of control, going down the toilet, and taking her with it.

THE WEEKEND PASSED without Ellie hearing back from her mother, which had her worried sick.

She’d called several times, but had received no answer and had debated about hopping on a plane and flying down to Miami, to see for herself exactly what was going on. But she had finally decided against it, hoping her parents were trying to work things out. If that was the case, they needed the time alone.

And today being Monday, she knew it was going to be a crazy day at work. Mondays were always the worst, for some reason. Apparently, if you were going to start an international incident or blow up the world, Monday was the day to do it.

As a translator, she was required to service up to seven meetings per week, each usually lasting no more than three hours, which was enough, as it was a mentally exhausting task. And Mondays were one of her busiest days.

“Did you hear about Mr. Moody?” Becky asked when Ellie arrived at her workstation, which looked like it came right out of a ’50s movie—gunmetal gray with an industrial feel to it. The only saving grace was the tall windows that surrounded the building, allowing plenty of light to pour in. To the right she could see the Chrysler Building and Empire State Building, to the left, the East River and Queens. That is, when she actually had time to look out the window, which wasn’t often.

“No,” Ellie replied, turning on her computer and placing her purse in the bottom drawer of the metal desk. “Is he ill?”

“He’s gone. Moody’s gone.”

Ellie spun around and was surprised by the concerned look on her friend’s face. Becky was not an alarmist.

“What do you mean, gone? Gone, as in dead?” She disliked Moody, but she didn’t want him dead, although a minor intestinal upset wouldn’t have been out of the question.

“I think he’s been replaced. It’s all been very hush-hush since I came in this morning.” Becky handed Ellie a cup of coffee. “Something’s up. I can feel it.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. “Replaced? By whom?” Surely she would have heard something if that were the case.

Just then, Jane Blumley, one of their co-workers, walked by and stopped, an eager look on her face. “I guess you heard about Moody? I think he’s been axed.” She made a cutting motion across her throat.

Jane wasn’t a particularly attractive woman—her nose was too large and her hair was so thin she looked bald in spots—but what she didn’t possess in looks she made up for in her ability to disseminate gossip.

The grapevine at the U.N. was rife with gossip, rumor and innuendo, and not just the political stuff. If you were engaged in sex with a co-worker, bought a new pair of expensive shoes, or washed and waxed your car over the weekend, it was talked about, dissected, and circulated in a matter of minutes on Monday morning.

“There’s probably a memo on your computer,” Becky said. “I got one this morning, though it doesn’t explain very much. Each of us in translation and interpretation is to have a one-on-one meeting, where the changes will be explained and the new director introduced.”

“Just like that.” Ellie snapped her fingers. “No notice, no nothing. How do we know we aren’t going to be sacked?” Which might have already happened to Moody, but most likely he’d been put out to pasture. And she couldn’t take exception to that decision. The man was a relic, and his being let go was way overdue.

Checking her e-mail, she found the memo Becky had referred to and shook her head. “It’s not even signed. How mysterious is that?”

“Maybe Moody hasn’t been replaced as yet. Maybe they’re going to select one of us to head up the department.”

Ellie smiled at her friend’s naiveté. “Nice thought, but not likely to happen, Becky. They’ll replace Moody with someone who has a lot more experience than we do. Just to make senior interpreter requires at least ten years of internationally recognized interpreting experience. We’ve still got a ways to go, I’m thinking.”

Becky sighed. “I hope I don’t get fired. We think we’ve found the house we’re going to buy.”

Ah. That explained the alarm.

“Really?” Ellie smiled, happy for her friend, though she wondered how they could afford it. Becky and Ben were always having financial problems and had borrowed money from Ben’s parents just last year to make ends meet.

Borrowing money from your parents or in-laws was an open invitation for them to move in with you after they retired. Ellie had decided long ago that she’d rather starve than take that step. Not that she didn’t love her parents, but what grown child wanted to live with them?