The Backup Plan Read Online Free Page B

daddy. They’re both so full of themselves it’s little wonder they can never see eye to eye on anything.” She shooed Dinah toward the door. “Now get along out of here, girl. You might be unemployed, but I’m not. This old house doesn’t clean itself and it takes me a mite longer to get around than it used to.”
    Dinah wandered upstairs, intending to freshen up and change her clothes before heading out in search of Bobby, but she found an old high-school yearbook and got distracted.
    By the time she’d closed the book, it was past lunch-time. Still wearing the same old shorts and halter top, she added a pair of sandals, ran a brush through her hair, then begged a sandwich from Maybelle. It was nearly four o’clock when she finally set off to look for Bobby. Maybe once she saw him, some magical something would click and she’d know whether or not she was home to stay. In her experience, though, life was rarely that clear-cut.
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    All during the tedious meetings at Covington Plantation, Dorothy had been distracted. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was going on with her daughter. Dinah hadn’t been herself since she’d arrived home.
    Her gentle resistance to all the dinner parties was to be expected. She’d always hated that sort of fuss. But isolating herself in the house and only reluctantly talking about her work made Dorothy think that the close call Dinah had minimized months ago might have taken more of a toll than she’d led them to believe.
    Since there was never a chance to talk to Marshall about any of this—or anything else—at home, Dorothy made a detour to his office at the bank. Based on the stunned reactions of everyone she greeted there, she concluded it had been far too long since she’d paid her husband an impulsive visit. In fact, there had been little spontaneity in their lives for a very long time. It was just one worrisome aspect of their marriage lately.
    When she entered his office, Marshall was on the phone. He gave her a distracted wave and kept right on talking. She gazed around at the room she’d helped him to decorate years ago when he’d first taken over the presidency and was shocked to discover that many of her carefully selected furnishings had been replaced. The color scheme was bolder and, to her eye, far more modern and jarring than suited a sedate banking establishment. Nothing in the room spoke of the bank’s conservative tradition.
    She doubted the change had been Marshall’s idea. Her husband cared little for that sort of thing. He must have given carte blanche to someone to redecorate. She found that oddly disturbing. There had been a time whenthey discussed everything going on at the bank, when he relied on her opinion and taste. When had that stopped? Months ago? Years?
    Were the bright artworks and sleek leather and chrome furnishings symptomatic of the problems she’d been ignoring in their marriage? Had they grown so far apart, communicated so little, that something like this could happen without her even knowing about it? It was a minor thing, but it forced her to face the fact that she hardly knew what was going on in her husband’s life anymore.
    She looked at her husband with dismay and wondered where they’d gone wrong. They were only in their early fifties, too young to have drifted so completely apart.
    When Marshall finally hung up, he regarded her not with the delight he once would have shown, but with a trace of impatience.
    â€œI didn’t know you were coming by,” he said. “I have a meeting in less than ten minutes.”
    She swallowed the first bitter retort that came to mind and said briskly, “Then I’ll finish what I have to say in nine minutes. I want to talk to you about Dinah.”
    He looked startled by that. “What about her?”
    â€œSomething’s wrong, Marshall. Haven’t you seen it?”
    He