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about what was really going on in the world. She made a quick, illegal U-turn in front of the post office, parked in front of Kabloom, got out, and slammed the door.

She looked down and frowned as she realized she was dressed to please Dan: pointy pumps, tight jeans, that cowboy belt he’d bought her somewhere, and a frothy cream sweater. She knew she looked good and still turned heads for a woman her age, but she wished she’d dressed in an ugly frock.

As she headed into Starbucks, a good-looking young blond man coming the other way smiled at her.

“Miss, could you tell me what time it is?”

“Yeah,” Jenny snapped. “Time for you to get a watch.”

He jerked his head back and gave her a wide berth.

The place was packed as usual, with college kids and young execs hunched over the tables and pecking away at their laptops. She should have gone over to Dunkin’ Donuts; nobody was ever in there. The girl behind the counter smiled when she ordered an Americano and asked, “Grande?”

“Just small, thank you,” Jenny mumbled and paid.

She found a seat at a table the size of a bathroom scale, sipped the bitter brew, and stared out the front window. I’m changing this arrangement. I’m not going to be the third wheel in my own darned house!

“You mind, hon?”

Jenny looked up. A woman was standing in front of her, one hand on the facing free chair. She looked sort of like that country-western singer, Reba what’s-her-name, with glossy red hair and smiling green eyes. And she had that accent.

“Sure,” Jenny said, although the last thing she needed was company. The woman smiled and sat. She was wearing an open-necked green blouse and a dungaree jacket with some shiny studs. She took a sip of her latte.

“Thanks. Sorta crazy ’round here today.”

“Always is,” Jenny said, “which I never understand because the coffee’s so bad.”

“I know!” The woman chuckled. “Not my cup of tea either, so to speak.”

Jenny smiled. “You’re not from around here.”

“Atlanta. Came up to visit my sister. My husband’s gone half the time so I gotta keep myself busy.”

“Oh?” Jenny sat back in her chair. Her shoulders were tight, and she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yep. Army man.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Shoulda known better.”

“Boy, do I get that.” Jenny sighed. “Mine’s a government guy.”

The woman put her elbows on the table and leaned in. “Are we gals stupid, or what?’

Jenny laughed. “I guess you don’t see it coming when you’re young.”

“Don’t see it comin’, and it hits you like an eighteen-wheeler, right? Everything’s a gosh-darn crisis. Everything’s a big top secret. And if you ever put up a fuss and want some attention, you’re a regular communist traitor or something!”

Jenny slapped the table with her fingers. “That’s exactly how I feel, all the time.”

“I know it, Hon.” The woman opened a purse, took out a lipstick and touched up using the screen of her cell phone. “We girls oughta start some government widows’ revenge club. Next time Jim’s comin’ back from wherever, I’m gonna leave him a blowup doll in our bed, a wilted rose, and a ‘see y’all’ note.”

Jenny laughed again. Just by chance, this encounter was exactly what she’d needed today.

The woman looked around, leaned in again, and whispered.

“Know what I finally did?”

Jenny leaned in too.

“No. What?”

“I snooped.” The woman nodded. “That’s right. I figured his business is my business. Not playin’ that game anymore. Now, whenever he goes, I know where to find his orders, where he’s goin’, what he’s doin’. First time I did that he Skyped me and I said to him, ‘James, you sure as heck better be in Kabul!’ Thought he was gonna have a bird, but he knows not to mess with me now.”

“Wow,” Jenny said. “You’re something else.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Jenny.”

“Melissa.” They shook.

“So, how’d you do it, Melissa?”

“Oh, come on, girl!” Melissa flicked her fingers in the air. “They’re men! They can’t find the milk in the fridge when it’s starin’ them right in the face. Think they can actually hide something?”

Jenny sighed. “My husband doesn’t tell me a thing.”

“That’s a dang male power trip, hon. Gotta take back the power. Girl power!” She looked at her watch and downed the rest of her coffee. “I better scoot. Sis is picking me up, and we’re gonna spend some of Jim’s money.” She reached out and squeezed Jenny’s wrist. “Now you show Mr. Secrets who’s boss.”

Jenny grinned. “I think I will, Melissa. And thanks.”

“You betcha.” Melissa got up, turned to go, then stopped beside her chair, and twisted around. She was wearing tight jeans like Jenny’s, and she pointed one pink fingernail at her cheek.

“See this?” she said. “This is the power!” and she grinned and was gone.

Jenny sat there for a while, stunned by this strange woman’s wisdom that seemed to have dropped out of heaven. But she was totally right. Why should she let Dan play his silly secret games while he kept her in the dark all the time and let her worry herself gray? She remembered some old army phrase he loved using whenever he felt like his superiors were screwing with him. “Yeah, treat me like a friggin’ mushroom. Keep me in the dark and feed me bullshit.” Well, she was no longer going to be his mushroom. If he wanted her to be his partner at home and in bed, then he’d have to accept her as his partner everywhere.

She got up, tossed the empty cup in the wastebasket, went to her car, and burned rubber, heading for home.

* * * *

Down the block, tucked back into Post Office Street, Melissa sat in her silver Lexus and watched Jenny’s crimson Toyota flash by. She smiled, reached up, took off the red wig, and scratched her itchy scalp.

Jenny was now in play, and with Alex already a major worry for Morgan, adding his wife to the mix would keep him from doing anything too wild

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