Betrayal - Fern Michaels [4]
Don cast a glance at Debbie. A flicker of a smile touched her lips. No doubt she was thinking of all the free time she would have without the girls underfoot.
With just a hint of churlishness, Debbie said, “I suppose I can call a truce. For now.”
Don shook his head in bewilderment. Later there would be hell to pay. At present it just didn’t matter. Whatever it took to shut her mouth, he was willing to do. He wanted to arrive in Asheville without a murder rap against him. He’d never resorted to physical violence, but he could almost imagine the pleasure he would feel smacking Debbie right in her mouth. He smiled. She’d been nothing but a social-climbing bitch since they’d moved to their new home in Quail Lake. He heard rumors about her from the husbands of the wives she socialized with. Apparently they were laughing behind her back. No matter what, she would always be the girl from the Brooklyn deli with the New York accent. No matter how many elocution classes she took, she’d always sound rough and unsophisticated. Don suddenly realized he was disillusioned with life, especially his marriage. Where was all the fun and companionship he longed for? His marriage to Debbie was a mistake, nothing more than a sham. Once aboard the cruise ship, he was going to take a good, honest look at his situation. Nothing like sailing the Caribbean to contemplate one’s life.
Don decided that changing the subject was in order. His thoughts were turning too bleak.
“Thanks, Deb. Now, who wants to go to Krystal for lunch?” Don loved the minihamburgers even though they gave him horrible indigestion.
“I do! I do! Can I have a dozen? Please, please!” Sara shouted from the backseat.
“Gross! You’re getting bigger by the minute, and you want a dozen hamburgers,” Emily said in disgust.
“Emily, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your sister. Sara is still a growing girl. She needs three meals a day, though I have to agree with Emily. A dozen hamburgers is too much. You can have six with some french fries and a vanilla shake if you want,” Debbie explained to Sara.
Sara looked at Emily and mouthed bitch. “Mom, I don’t think that’s the healthiest lunch for Sara. She needs some lettuce without salad dressing and a glass of water.” Emily laughed at the look of horror on Sara’s pudgy face.
“That’s enough. Both of you. Sara, you might want to listen to your sister’s advice. She’s been there, she knows what it’s like.” Don peeked in the rearview mirror and winked at Emily. Emily had never been overweight, but if a little white lie stopped an argument, what could it hurt, Don asked himself.
“Dad! That’s just so not true!” Emily rebutted.
“You’re just too young to remember. Now, let’s look for a Krystal billboard. All this talk of food is really making me hungry.”
“Me too,” shouted Sara. She began to hop up and down in the backseat.
“Sit down, you brat! You act like a starved Ethiopian. Can’t you be still for just one minute?” Emily wished they were at Uncle Alex’s already. It was getting extremely hard to remain in such close quarters with Sara acting like a rabbit.
Sara gave Emily the finger.
Emily yanked her sister’s middle finger, then pulled. “Ouch!” Sara screamed.
“Enough of you two!” Don yelled.
“She flipped me off!” Emily declared indignantly.
“Liar!” Sara screamed, then she began to howl at the top of her lungs. “She’s a liar, she’s a liar! Mommy, why does she always make up lies to tell on me?”
Emily jabbed her index finger in Sara’s face