Household Gods Read Online Free

felt good. Anger felt cleansing. But it didn’t change a thing. There wasn’t anything she could do. Deport Josefina? She almost laughed. Josefina was leaving the USA on her own tonight. She’d probably welcome the help.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mrs. Gunther-Perrin,” Josefina repeated. As if she meant it. As if she even cared.
    Nicole didn’t even remember going from the house to the car. One moment she was staring at Josefina, hunting for words that wouldn’t come. The next, she was in the Honda, slamming the driver’s-side door hard enough to rattle the glass in the window frame. She jammed the key in the ignition, shoved the pedal to the metal, and roared out into the street.
    Part of her wanted to feel cold and sick and a little guilty. The rest of her was too ferociously angry to care how she drove.
    She might not care, but with the luck she was running, she’d pick up a ticket on top of being drastically late. She made an effort of will and slowed down to something near a reasonable speed. Her brain flicked back into commuter mode, cruising on autopilot. The main part of her mind fretted away at this latest blow.
    I can’t worry about it now, she told herself over and over. I’ll worry about it after I get to the office. I’ll worry about it tonight.
    First she had to get to the office. When she came out onto Victory, she shook her head violently. She knew too well how long tooling back across the western half of the Valley would take. Instead, she swung south onto the San Diego Freeway: only a mile or two there to the interchange with the 101. Yes, the eastbound 101 would be a zoo, but so what? Westbound, going against rush-hour traffic, she’d make good time. She didn’t usually try it, but she wasn’t usually so far behind, either.
    Thinking about that, plotting out the rest of her battle plan, helped her focus; got her away from the gnawing worry
about Josefina’s desertion. It was good for that much, at least.
    As she crawled down toward the interchange, she checked the KFWB traffic report and then, two minutes later, the one on KNX. They were both going on about a jackknifed big rig on the Long Beach Freeway, miles from where she was. Nobody said anything about the 101. She swung through the curve from the San Diego to the 101 and pushed the car up to sixty-five.
    For a couple of miles, she zoomed along—she even dared to congratulate herself. She’d rolled the dice and won: she would save ten, fifteen minutes, easy. She’d still be late, but not enough for it to be a problem. She didn’t have any appointments scheduled till eleven-thirty. The rest she could cover for.
    She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Not today. Not with her luck.
    Just past Hayvenhurst, everything stopped. “You lying son of a bitch!” Nicole snarled at the car radio. It was too much. Everything was going wrong. It was almost as bad as the day she woke up to a note on her pillow, and no Frank. Dear Nicole , the note had said, on departmental stationery yet, Dawn and I have gone to Reno. We’ll talk about the divorce when I get back. Love, Frank. And scribbled across the bottom: P.S. The milk in the fridge is sour. Remember to check the Sell-By date next time you buy a gallon.
    Remembering how bad that day was didn’t make this one feel any better. “Love, Frank,” she muttered. “Love, the whole goddamn world.”
    Her eye caught the flash of her watch as she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Almost time for the KNX traffic report. She stabbed the button, wishing she could stab the reporter. His cheery voice blared out of the speakers: “—and Cell-Phone Force member Big Charlie reports a three-car injury accident on the westbound 101 between White Oak and Reseda. One of those cars flipped over; it’s blocking the number-two and number-three lanes. Big Charlie says only the slow lane is open.