Nora had talked to her on countless occasions since their first meeting, and there was never a suggestion of friendliness on the woman’s part. To be fair, Channing did discourage chumminess. He’d often complained about his ex-wife, Gloria, who was forever befriending the hired help, becoming enmeshed in their personal upheavals. The cleaning lady, a drunk, had taken to calling Gloria in the middle of the night, asking for advances on her salary. The gardener talked her into buying him new equipment when his was stolen from another job site. When the cook’s daughter got pregnant, Gloria was the one driving the girl to her doctor’s appointments because she was too sick to ride the bus. Channing thought it absurd that Gloria was at the beck and call of people on the payroll. With Nora, he’d put his foot down and she’d been happy to comply. She assumed he’d given Thelma the same stern talking to, which was why her tone of voice bordered on the chilly.

Thelma, either unsure of herself or obsequious by nature, insisted on consulting Channing when Nora made even a minor request. Now when Nora called the office to talk to him, she was greeted by a wall of cobwebs. Thelma was subtle about it, putting up a nearly imperceptible resistance that Nora couldn’t call her on. If Nora asked her to cut a check, Thelma would sidestep until she could clear it with him. The second time it happened, Nora complained to Channing, and he’d said he’d speak to her. For a while Thelma’s attitude had improved, but then she’d reverted to the same sullen behavior, leaving Nora in the uncomfortable position of saying nothing or having to object yet again, which made her seem churlish. Thelma refused to recognize Nora’s authority. Channing was her boss. Nora might be the boss’s wife at home, but not where Thelma was concerned.

Nora was ready to lower the boom. “Channing, we really need to talk about Thelma.”

“We can do that later. Right now, I’m trying to get to this meeting before the situation blows up in my face,” he said as he headed out the door. “I’ll see you Wednesday. Traffic probably won’t be heavy. If you’re in Malibu by five o’clock, it should give you plenty of time to get ready.”

Nora stopped in her tracks. “For what? I’m not coming down at all this week.”

“What are you talking about? We have the fund-raiser for the Alzheimer’s Association.”

“A fund-raiser? In the middle of the week? That’s ridiculous!”

“The annual dinner dance. Don’t play dumb. I told you last week.”

Nora followed him down the front steps. “You never said a word.”

He glanced back at her, irritation surfacing. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. I have plans.”

“Well, cancel them. My presence is required and I want you there. You’ve begged off the last six events.”

“Pardon the hell out of me. I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

“Who said anything about keeping score? Name the last time you went anyplace with me.”

“Don’t do that to me. You know I can never think of an example in the moment. The point is, Belinda’s sister’s coming into town from Houston. She’s here one day and we have tickets for the symphony that night. We had to pay a fortune for the seats.”

“Tell her we had plans and it totally slipped your mind.”

“An Alzheimer’s event and it ‘slipped my mind’? How tacky is that?”

“Tell her anything you like. She can give your ticket to someone else.”

“I can’t cancel at the last minute. It’s inconsiderate. Besides, you know how much I hate those things.”

“This is not meant as entertainment. I bought a table for ten. We’ve gone every year without fail for the last ten.”

“And I’m always bored out of my mind.”

“You know what? I’m tired of your excuses. You pull this shit at the last minute and it leaves me scrambling around, trying to find someone to fill in. You know how embarrassing that is?”

“Oh, stop. You can go by yourself. It’s not going to kill you for once.”

“Screw you,” he said.

He tossed his briefcase and a duffel in the trunk and then moved to the driver’s side with Nora close behind. She was exasperated having to trot after him, which reduced their conversation to fits and starts.

Channing slid in under the wheel and slammed the car door. He turned his key in the ignition so he could power down the window. “You want to talk about Thelma? Fine. Let’s talk about Thelma. She said you called on Friday, asking her to cut you a check for eight grand. She said you were very frosty when she said it would have to go through me. She was worried she’d offended you.”