She pulled out an expensive bottle of red wine, one they’d brought back from a trip to Napa. A bottle she and Andrew had been saving for a special occasion. “Well, isn’t this a special occasion?” she thought, pouring the dark liquid into glasses.
A tense silence hung over the table. Andrew nervously tapped his fingers on the tabletop. Victoria sat with her eyes downcast. Only Eleanor seemed relaxed.
“So,” she said, setting out the plates, “how long has this been going on?”
Andrew flinched.
“Ellie, I…”
“Don’t tell me it’s not what I think it is,” she smirked. “I found you in our bed. In my house. I’m not blind and I’m not stupid, Andrew.”
“Four months,” Victoria answered unexpectedly, looking up. “We’ve been… together for four months.”
Eleanor appreciated her directness. At least one of them wasn’t lying.
“I see,” she nodded, taking her seat at the table. “And when were you planning on telling me?”
Andrew choked on his wine.
“I was going to. This week. I wanted to talk.”
“Four months, and you were just now getting around to talking?” Eleanor shook her head. “How thoughtful. Try the stroganoff, Victoria. It’s a family recipe.”
The absurdity of the situation was palpable. A wife, a husband, and a mistress, all at the dinner table. Victoria hesitantly picked up her fork. Andrew sat without touching his food.
“Ellie, I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Why are you… so calm?”
“What did you want? For me to scream? Have a meltdown? Scratch your girlfriend’s face?” She shook her head. “No, Andrew. I have too much self-respect for that kind of drama.”
Silence fell again. Only the clinking of silverware against plates.
“Are you planning to get a divorce?” Eleanor asked.
“Yes,” Andrew said firmly. “I want to be with Vicky. Officially.”
“How predictable,” Eleanor smiled, looking at the bewildered Victoria. “And you want to take the company, too?”
Andrew tensed.
“Ellie, let’s not get into that right now. We can handle this like civilized adults.”
“Oh, I have no doubt,” she said, cutting a piece of meat. “By the way, Andrew, I was thinking. Maybe we should have a family dinner? Invite your mother, our friends Dave and Jen, a few others. This Saturday.”
“What?” He stared at her as if she were insane. “Why?”
“Why not?” she shrugged. “Before we officially announce our divorce, we could have a farewell party for our fifteen-year marriage. Besides, it would be convenient to tell everyone at once, don’t you think?”
Victoria coughed and set down her fork.
“I should probably go,” she mumbled. “You two need to talk alone.”
“You can stay,” Eleanor smiled gently. “You’re part of the story now, Victoria.”
“No, really, I have to go.” The young woman stood up, avoiding Eleanor’s gaze. “Thank you for… dinner.”
Her heels clicked rapidly down the hallway. The front door slammed shut. She and Andrew were alone.
“Ellie, what is going on?” He looked at her like she was an alien. “Are you on some kind of medication? Is this shock?”
“You’d prefer a hysterical scene, wouldn’t you?” she scoffed. “So you could tell yourself with a clear conscience, ‘See, she’s unstable, it’s impossible to live with her’?”
Andrew ran a hand over his face.
“I don’t understand you.”
“On the contrary, I think I understand you perfectly,” she said, pushing her plate away. “So, are we on for dinner Saturday?”
“Why are you doing this?” he shook his head.
“Consider it a whim. A last request.”
Eleanor got up from the table and started clearing the dishes.
“And, Andrew, I’ve known about your little affair for a while.”
“You didn’t just find out tonight?” He went pale. “What?”
“The sapphire necklace is beautiful,” she smiled. “It suits Victoria. Just next time, don’t leave the receipts in your jacket pocket.”
Eleanor left the kitchen, leaving her husband sitting there with his mouth open. She went upstairs to the bedroom, stripped the sheets, and threw them in the laundry hamper. She remade the bed with a fresh set, opened the window, and let the cold night air rush in, chasing out the scent of foreign perfume.
“Step one, complete,” she thought, smoothing the clean sheet. Now, all that was left was to organize that little family dinner. A surprise party for her husband and his mistress.
A week had passed since Eleanor found her husband with his mistress. Andrew moved around the apartment as if walking on eggshells: cautious, wary. He was expecting an explosion, tears, accusations, but was met instead with his wife’s polite smiles and calm gaze. At the hospital, Eleanor threw herself into her work. The beep of the heart monitor, the smell of antiseptic, the cool metal of instruments in her hands—it all gave her a sense of control.
“Your promotion was approved,” her boss said, placing a file on her desk. “As of the first of the month, you’re the Head of Cardiology, Dr. Hayes.”
She nodded, feeling a strange contradiction: a professional triumph against a backdrop of personal disaster.
“Thank you, Dr. Miller,” she said, taking the papers, feeling their rough texture. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know,” he paused at the door. “Just remember our principle: do no harm.”
Eleanor froze. “Do no harm.” The foundation of medical ethics. And what was she planning now?
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