When they had come to Ansley Court it had been exciting. She had loved being at home, decorating each room lovingly and thoughtfully, working out in her gardens with Mr. Handlemann from the nursery, choosing the plants and trees for their property. She had picked fabrics and paints. Bought furniture and carpets. Jeff wasn't interested in any of it. The house was hers, he told her. It was her realm to do with as she pleased as long as it was tasteful and elegant so they might eventually entertain his bosses and clients.

Jeff had gotten himself a job with Coutts and Wickham Advertising. In those days it had been a medium-sized agency. He was unusually clever at thinking up successful campaigns for the clients, and they liked him as well. Jeff had worked hard, but then, Nora thought, so had she. Their home was right out of Country Living. And in those early years she had entertained perfectly for the firm. Their Christmas parties had even been written up in the city paper's Sunday color supplement. And Jeff had been made a partner. The firm was now known as Buckley, Coutts and Wickham Advertising.

And the children had been carefully spaced four years apart. They were terrific kids. Jill had accelerated her college time. She would be through after the summer semester, having finished in just three years. Jill had already taken her LSAT exams and been accepted at Duke University's law school. She would start in late summer. J. J. was not as focused as his sister had been at eighteen. J. J. would take four or more years to get his degree, if Nora wasn't mistaken. But she had no doubt that when he found himself J. J. would excel in life.

Yes, Nora thought to herself, I really have to do something with myself. I've got to get a life of my own now. I've got a perfect house, a perfect lawn, and garden, great kids, but what the hell do I really want? If Jeff is really having an affair, if Rina is right, I could be losing everything. What would I do then? But Nora knew that there was no what-if about it. Her husband was obviously involved with someone else, and until she had said it aloud this morning, she hadn't been able to face it herself. Now she was facing it, and it scared the hell out of her.

What had happened to them? The revelation this morning that Jeff was a womanizer had been a bit of a shock, though. But hadn't she always looked at Jeff through rose-colored glasses from the moment she met him? Yes, she had, she acknowledged to herself. She was dewy-eyed, and he was an important senior on the State campus. She'd never really had a boyfriend until Jeff Buckley. The private school she had attended, Lane, had been an all-girls school.

Her late father had been very impressed with Jeff Buckley. "The boy comes from a solid family," Nora remembered him saying. Jeff Buckley. The perfect prospect. Quarterback. Senior-class president, head of the debating team, at a time when student bodies across America were protesting and rebelling. Jeff, however, did not rebel. Rebellion, he argued firmly, was both inefficient and time-consuming. You changed the system from within the system, not by encouraging anarchy. Jeff had been pure establishment. Nora had thought he was just wonderful, and he had won over her father immediately, calling him "sir." Her parents had met him that first Homecoming Weekend.

Nora's mother, however, worried that Jeff was a bit- what was the word she had used? Bossy? Yes! Bossy. But Nora hadn't minded. Her father had been controlling. It felt good to let someone else take charge. Now after all these years she wasn't so certain that her mother hadn't been right. Maybe her mother had been trying to warn her in some subtle way. But she wouldn't have listened to Margo at that time in her life anyway, Nora realized. She was in love, and it was wonderful! She had never dated anyone else. She was a virgin on their wedding night. She remembered he had been very pleased. It was obvious that Jeff wasn't a virgin, however, but his mastery had thrilled her innocent heart.

But he had never liked it when she showed what he considered undue enthusiasm in their lovemaking. He had once accused her of being whorish, which had hurt her feelings. She had thought he would be flattered by her newly awakened passions. That if you loved someone, you should show him that you did. Jeff was not of similar mind.

"I'd really be wondering about you, Nora," he had said to her, "if I hadn't popped your cherry myself. You really bled, baby."

The sex between them, at first red-hot, had quickly cooled. Not because Nora wanted it to, but because she wasn't allowed to really participate in a shared passion. The novelty wore off, and he seemed less interested. Looking back, it seemed to her as if his only interest in her sexually had been her virginity, and ability to give him children. Then five years ago sex between them had stopped entirely. She even remembered the date. It had been September 5, Labor Day weekend. Jeff had been drunk. He had called her Lanie. Oh, yes. The date was etched firmly in her mind.

Whenever her friends talked about their husbands' ardor, and the fact they weren't getting as much as they once had, Nora was silent. She knew they all assumed it was because she was reticent in discussing sex, but of course that wasn't it at all. If they had known about her situation, they would have pitied her. Nora didn't think she could stand being pitied because her husband no longer found her lustworthy. So she kept her mouth shut, and went on with her life as if everything were fine and dandy, but of course it wasn't. And now it appeared as if her husband was going to dump her like rubbish for another woman. A younger woman. There was no hiding from that.

"I'll bet they're having great sex," she grumbled to herself. She wondered what the other woman looked like. Probably blond. How old was she? Probably in her late twenties or early thirties, which was a good twenty or more years younger than Jeff. Women in their early thirties were really in their prime sexually. At least the kids were grown, or almost grown. There wouldn't be any nonsense about custody or visitation. Nora wondered how much they knew or suspected about Jeff's peccadilloes. Neither Jill nor J. J. had ever been close with their father. He had never been home enough to allow it, but she was very close with both of them.

Her thoughts led her right back to her problem. What was she going to do about it? Rina was right. Nora Buckley was helpless, and she didn't like the reality of that knowledge at all. What was the matter with her that she hadn't gotten a little bank account just for herself? Something for a rainy day. Jeff had never been really cheap with her, and she could have siphoned off some of her household moneys every month. He would have been none the wiser as long as it had been just a little at a time. But no. Nora Buckley had been too busy trying to please her husband to consider herself. What a fool she had been!

The phone rang, startling her. She picked it up.

"Hey, Ma!" J. J.'s voice came over the wire. "Lily's mom has invited me to stay overnight. She and Mr. Graham invited a friend to dinner. The guy's a bigwig at State. They wanted me to meet him. I told 'em it would be alright with you, right?"

"Why can't you come home afterwards?" Nora heard herself asking.

"Maaa!" J. J. sounded exasperated. "You'll make me look like a real dork if I have a curfew. What if this guy from State and I are in an important conversation? The clock strikes ten, and I have to get up, saying, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Blank, but my mommy wants me home.' Do you want me to look like a jerk?"

"No, of course not. What about clothing for tomorrow?" Nora asked her son.

"I'll jet over after school, grab some, and my toothbrush too. Okay?" He sounded anxious and so excited.

"Okay." Nora gave in gracefully. What other choice did she have?

"Great, Ma! See ya!" The phone went dead.

Nora set it down, but then as an afterthought picked up the phone again, dialing the Graham residence. Maris Graham answered. "Maris, Nora Buckley. J. J. just called. This isn't going to be a problem for you, is it? He can always come home."

"No, no," Maris Graham replied. "He can sleep in Peter's room. There are bunk beds there. Michael Collier is the director of admissions at State. I know J. J.'s gotten in without any difficulty, but I thought if Mike met J. J., he'd like him," she laughed. "What isn't to like? But I thought it might help J. J. get a better on-campus job, and maybe a bump in his scholarship money. I wish they could have met earlier, but Mike only gets down to see us once a year. He and John were at Princeton together."

"Well, fine, then," Nora replied. "And Maris, thanks so very much. You have been very kind to J. J., and we appreciate it."

"No problem. He's a good kid," came the response.

Nora had no sooner hung up the phone again when it rang once more. Her husband's voice came over the line.

"Don't you ever do anything but yak on the phone?" Jeff greeted her. "I've been trying to get you for hours."

Nora sighed. "Don't prevaricate, Jeff. I've been over at Rina's this morning. There were no messages." She pressed the caller ID. "You haven't called until just now, and I didn't get a beep. You must have dialed the wrong number. I was just on the phone with Maris Graham. J. J. is staying over there tonight. I wanted to make certain it was alright with Maris. What's up?"

"I can't get home tonight," he replied curtly, ignoring her explanation. "Big campaign, and the client is in from Detroit. By the time the meetings are over, and we've wined and dined him, it will be just too damned late. I'll stay at the company apartment."

"Of course," Nora said, an edge in her voice. "You stayed all weekend, Jeff, but of course I understand. Just remember that the Athletic Association awards at the school are Friday night. J. J. is picking up a scholarship for soccer from the local booster club. I damned well expect you to be there for your son!"

"What the hell has gotten into you?" he demanded. "The Change, I suppose. I work like a peon to keep you and the kids comfortable, and all you can do is bitch at me."

"I've been on hormone replacement therapy for two years now if you had ever bothered to notice. Are you having an affair, Jeff?" Nora shot back at him, astounded even as the words left her mouth that she had said them.

"I don't have to dignify that question with a reply, Nora," Jeff said loftily. "I'll call you later this week."

"Don't bother! Just be home for the awards. J. J. is your only son," Nora snapped. "At least the only one that I know of, dear."

The phone line went dead, but not before she had heard the sharp intake of his breath.

"Omigod!" she half whispered as she put the phone back down in its charger. He hadn't denied a thing. He had practically confirmed it by not answering her question. If he wasn't having an affair, he would have said so. But he hadn't said so. She was surprised that he hadn't asked her to define the word affair. When had Jeff become such a son of a bitch? Or had he always been that way, and she too blind to notice? You are in big trouble, girlfriend, she thought to herself. And you are all alone. Her father was dead, and she certainly wasn't going to go running to her mother. Margo had never really liked Jeff in the first place. She had no siblings. What the hell was she going to do? There was really no one to help her. It frightened her to realize that Jeff seemed to have all the cards in this terrible game they were playing.

Nora stood up and paced the room. She had no idea of the time, but it had to be afternoon because the sun was flooding the den with its bright light. She had never expected to come to this point in her life when she married Jeff. Nora believed when you got married, you stayed that way until one of you died. That was the way it had always been. That was the way it was supposed to be. It was like that here on Ansley Court, but then, they had all been lucky. No one worked at marriage anymore, it seemed. Divorce was so commonplace nowadays.

She walked into the front hallway and stared at herself in the large mirror over the hall table. Alright. She was heavier than the 120 pounds she had weighed when they were married. She wasn't a flaming redhead anymore. She pushed at the hair near her temples. It was faded even more than the rest of her head. She peered closely into the mirror. Okay. She had a few laugh lines around her eyes. But everyone she knew did too, damnit! But she wasn't a bad-looking woman. In fact she was in pretty good condition for a woman in her late forties if you overlooked the fact that her boobs were going south, and her waist wasn't quite as narrow as it had once been, and her thighs were a bit mottled. Weren't everyone's at this point?