He smiled up at her. "Right, Red!"
She smiled back. The phone rang then, and they heard the wake-up call. "I might as well go now," Nora said. "We've certainly had a busy evening, haven't we?" She got up from their bed.
"Tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yes," she promised. "J. J. won't be home until Monday late." Then turning, she walked back into the living room, and placed her hand on the television screen. The now familiar pop sounded, and she was back in her recliner. Reaching for the channel changer, she clicked the set off, and standing up, she went upstairs to her bedroom. She needed a shower, and she was exhausted. Kyle was a tireless lover. Going into her bathroom, she pulled off her nightshirt, and then she stared shocked. She was wearing a green lace garter belt, and sheer stockings. This had certainly never happened before. Nora shivered. Well, if she had ever needed any proof that The Channel was real, this sure as hell was it. She couldn't wait to tell Carla. She undid the garter belt, and laid it aside, rolling the stockings off her feet. Showering quickly, she fell into bed.
She awoke early the following afternoon and, reaching for the phone, called her best friend. "Come over," she said. "I have something to show you."
"Be there within the hour. We're just up after the party. Kids left at sunrise for the mountains. I'm bushed. God, they danced till dawn, and the music! Thank God we're all friends, or someone would have called the cops for sure."
"Funny," Nora laughed, "I never heard a thing."
"Ohh, I know what you were doing," Carla singsonged. "See you shortly."
Nora dressed, and as she did, she felt a slight soreness in her ass. I can't believe I did that, she thought, but it was really exciting. I'm not sure I'll do it again. She pulled on her shorts and a T. Going down to the kitchen, she considered making coffee, but she didn't want coffee. She wanted iced tea. There was some of that mixture left from yesterday. She was still tired. Yesterday had been a big day, and then last night's activities had added to it all. Pouring herself a glass of the cold tea/lemonade mix, she went out onto the terrace by the pool, and sat down.
It was a beautiful late June day. The sky was clear, and the sun hot on her shoulders. There was a faint breeze. The water in the pool lapped against the steps. She had roses in bloom- reds and pinks and whites in one corner of the yard, yellows and peach and apricot in another corner. She got up, then sat back down on the top step of the pool, and dangled her feet in the water. It was so quiet. So peaceful. How she loved it, and she wanted it always to be this way. And it would be. She wasn't going to let Jeff take her home away from her. She heard the gate creak, and turned.
"Hey," Carla said, coming into the yard. "Whatcha drinking?"
"The stuff from yesterday. I'm pooped, and I always get extra thirsty when I'm tired like this. Go help yourself if you want some."
"What I want is to know what happened. You sounded really spooked when you called, Nora."
"Did you ever bring back something from your visits in The Channel?" Nora asked her best friend.
"Something? What do you mean?" Carla said.
Nora got up. "Come into the house." She led the way, going upstairs, Carla following. In her bedroom she picked up the garter belt, and the stockings. "I came home last night in these," Nora told Carla.
"Holy crap!" Carla breathed. "You don't own anything like this."
"Nora Buckley, this reality, doesn't. But Nora Buckley of The Channel does, and I was wearing them last night when I woke up."
"Pretty snazzy." Carla grinned. "Just what is your fantasy?"
"Penthouse apartment, Mr. Gorgeous, and a masseur named Rolf," Nora replied with a half smile.
"What's Mr. Gorgeous's name?" Carla pried.
"Kyle," Nora told her.
"And he likes you in green lace garter belts," Carla said.
"It matched my wrap dress," Nora said. "I could hardly visit Mr. Nicholas unless I was properly dressed."
"Boy, two guys don't satisfy you, and you got three? You're almost as bad as I am," Carla chuckled. "Every time I recruit a new crew, I screw 'em all before we set sail."
"Mr. Nicholas is the administrator of The Channel," Nora told her friend. "I wanted to meet him because there were things I needed to know, questions that only he could answer. I could hardly go to his office looking like a tart in my blue silk shorty robe," Nora said.
"There's someone who actually runs The Channel?" Carla asked, sounding surprised. "And you met him? And he has an office? What's he like?"
"Sure, someone runs it, and yes, I met him, and his office is out of Architectural Digest, old-money edition, and he…" She stopped for a moment. "He's nothing like I thought he would be. I was thinking Louis Jourdan, or Ricardo Montalban. In fact on reflection he reminds me of that nineteen-forties-movie character actor, Claude Rains. He has two secretaries and an assistant named Margaret, and we had tea before a fireplace, with chocolate biscotti."
"No way!" Carla exclaimed.
"Way!" Nora said, laughing. "It was almost bizarre except it was so damned civilized. The tea was that really good gunpowder green, and the biscotti were heaven."
"What did you want to know from him?" Carla said, curious.
"I'll tell you that another time. Just tell me, babe, did you ever come home with a souvenir from The Channel?"
"Other than a hickey?" Carla replied with a grin. "Nah. And I know none of the others have either. They'd freak if they did, and tell. And I'm not certain this isn't creeping me out, Nora."
"It's creeping me out a little too," Nora admitted. "It's like one of those too-good-to-be-true scenarios you read about."
"Hey, we get charged for it on our cable bills," Carla said. "So did this Mr. Nicholas answer all of your questions?"
"I suppose he did, but in a very roundabout way," Nora responded.
"You going to keep going to The Channel?" Carla's dark eyes were curious.
"It's like potato chips," Nora said. "You just can't eat one. Yeah, it helps me not to collapse with fear over this whole situation, especially now that I've met my replacement. She no beauty, but she's pretty, isn't she?"
"She's young," Carla answered. "I figured about thirty, thirty-one. And she dresses well, and she's got a good body. I'll bet she goes to the gym every day. She hasn't had any kids, although maybe she'll have one once they're married. These second wives always like to have one kid to take the attention away from the first wife's kids. They never really feel safe as long as the first wife and her kids are hovering in the background," Carla said.
"Where do you get all this information?" Nora demanded to know.
"Oprah. Dr. Phil. Jerry, and Jenny," Carla said. "And every damned women's magazine has articles on your situation. You aren't the first woman to be dumped by her husband for a younger woman. You won't be the last."
"As long as I get my house," Nora replied.
"Listen, hon, I wouldn't count on keeping the house," Carla said, sitting down on Nora's bed. "Rick says they're going to really have to do a number to even get you half its value in cash. And really, Nora, what the hell do you want this big place for anyway? The kids are practically gone, and you aren't going to have the money to keep it up. It's a lot of work, and we're not getting any younger, babe."
"I'm not letting Jeff take my house," Nora said stubbornly.
"Look, there's a great new condo community opening up right on the old Carstairs estate on the bay. Half the value of this house would buy you a nice two-bedroom, and you would always have room for the kids."
"No," Nora said. "The house is mine, and I'm not letting him have it, Carla. He can have everything else. The kids can take loans for the rest of their schooling. He can cut me off without a penny, but the house is mine."