CHAPTER ELEVEN
The phone rang. Alison looked at her clock. It was 7:05 pm Thursday evening. That would be Rick. He always called at 7:05. She tossed back the last of her glass of vodka and cranberry juice and picked up the phone.
“Rick?”
No response.
“Hello? Rick, is that you?”
“Oh ...hi, honey. Sorry, the phone was acting weird. Is everything okay? I got concerned when you didn’t show up today. God, I miss you.” But it sounded to Alison as though he were slightly surprised to hear her answer.
“Yes honey,” she said in her sweetest possible forced voice. “I’m sorry. I miss you too—terribly. This financial issue has gotten more complicated. I guess I have to tell you now, but it was going to be a surprise. I’m moving some money around, and selling a few things, because I rented an apar
