By Janelle Payne

By all appearances, it was a typical day in the life of Elliott Marsh: a good day in the good life of a good man. He’d closed another big deal today, a great way to end the week. He pulled his BMW 740il into the middle of his two-car garage, noticing as he did that his wife’s car (a sweet little Mercedes he’d given her last year for her 39^th birthday) wasn’t in its double-wide stall. He regretted not stopping for flowers to soften the blow of springing company on her. Since he hadn’t been able to reach Rachel on her cell phone, he hoped she got the message that Andy and Kim were coming over for dinner – just a little celebration – around seven o’clock, less than an hour from now.

Neatly laying his suit jacket over the back of a soft leather chair, he picked up a remote, hit the "on" button, and jazz music wafted from the Bose speakers, filling the house with the smooth sounds of John Pizarelli. He opened the sliding French doors and let in the cool early evening breeze. It was that time of year when the sun was setting more to the south and, by this time of day, didn’t shine directly into the back of the house but filled it with a warm glow. He walked into the kitchen, loosening his tie, and began inspecting the refrigerator for the ingredients they’d need for dinner. He grabbed a beer and paused to take a swig as he took a mental inventory to make sure nothing was needed from the market.

Before heading up to change his clothes, he picked up the cordless phone that hung next to the security monitor panel. He would try to reach Rachel again. They didn’t necessarily talk during the day – once he was in the office, he was pretty difficult

to reach but Rachel would usually leave a voice mail or note if she wasn’t going to be home when he arrived. But, again, he received the message that "The Nextel customer you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your call again later."

As Elliott changed into a pair of khaki shorts and sport shirt, he contemplated having another conversation with Andy about coming to work for his firm or letting him arrange a couple of interviews with other profitable companies. He hated to see his old college roommate struggling for so many years for such meager wages. Andy wasn’t making six figures, even with a bonus. And to think that he, Elliott, had pulled in over a half million today. Andy, what happened to your drive? Where are your priorities, man? But Andy was steady and, fortunately, Kim didn’t seem to mind working herself. It would just be nice for the four of them to take a real vacation together – Europe, Bora Bora, a cruise – and not have to plan around Andy and Kim’s budget.

He was bounding down the stairs, mentally ticking off the names of some business associates to call on Monday, when the doorbell rang.

"Hey! Come on in!" He exchanged a kiss on the cheek with Kim, a firm handshake for Andy. They both wore jeans and a t-shirt, as comfortable as their friendship.

"Congratulations!" Kim practically made a song out of this one word. "Does this call for another upgrade, another move?"

Elliott didn’t notice the slight sarcasm in the grin on Kim’s face as he led the way into the kitchen. But even these casual celebrations for Elliott’s accomplishments, such as this evening’s little get-together, made Kim feel anxious about the affect on Andy’s ego.

"Hell, no. I’m assuming Rachel’s out spending it before I’ve collected it, since she’s not home yet."

"Have you talked with her?" Andy set the bottle of wine they brought on the bar.

"This need to be refrigerated?" Elliott asked as he peeked under the foil covering the Pyrex dish.

"Yes. It’s that Better Than Sex cake you like so much. Want me to clear a space?" Kim opened the refrigerator door as she asked this and began to make room.

"So did Rachel know we were coming?" Andy made himself comfortable on a barstool.

"Actually, no. I tried to reach her when I got in. I assume she was deep inside the walls of a department store or on her way home and in a dead zone because I couldn’t raise her. But I’m sure she’ll be home soon."

"Oh, man, why do you do stuff like this to your wife . . . and to us?" Kim looked at Andy, shaking her head, as if a mischievous child had once again misbehaved. They had witnessed more than one argument caused by Elliott making decisions without consulting Rachel. He really wasn’t willful, just oblivious, and this was a minor infraction compared to some of the others he’d made over the years.

"Oh, don’t worry about it. She’ll be home soon and, for a change, I’ll have dinner ready. She won’t have to do a thing. So, what can I get you to drink? Beer? Wine? Something stronger? I can mix up some martinis."

"Oh, no. I think I’ll start out slow. Just a beer for me."

Elliott pulled out two beers and handed one to Andy. He stood with the refrigerator door open, "Okay, Kim, what about you?"

"I think I’ll start out slower and have some water." Kim helped herself to a glass from the cabinet.

"Sparkling or still?"

"Still is fine. No ice. Thanks." Kim leaned on the counter next to Andy while Elliott took up another barstool.

"So, was this the Citibank or the First United deal you closed today?" Andy asked. He didn’t really care but knew Elliott was anxious to talk about it. He wasn’t jealous of Elliott – Elliott was a hard worker, very driven and deserved to do well.

He just wished Elliott would occasionally ask about some of the projects he was working on. It was as though Elliott didn’t want to know there was even a need for building low-income housing, let alone the details involved in seeing it all come together.

"Neither. Provident. I don’t expect Citibank or First United to close till the next quarter."

"Wow. Pretty soon we’ll have to start dressing to come to dinner over here." Kim wished Rachel could have been in on this joke. Rachel did as good a job as possible keeping Elliott grounded, which couldn’t be easy.

"Kim, you could undress to come to dinner over here and make me a very happy guy." Elliott sprang from his seat, dipped Kim backwards and nuzzled into her neck, extracting a surprised squeal. Elliott liked to tease but Kim and Andy both knew how devoted he was to Rachel.

"Actually, Andy, we have a couple of openings at our place. I thought I’d talk to you about making a move, stepping up in the financial world."

"No, thanks. You can keep your high-paying, stroke-inducing job. I’m quite happy where I am."

"Hey, I’m the picture of health!" Elliott sat up straight, puffed up his chest and sucked in his stomach to prove his point.

"Yeah but what does a picture tell you?" Andy goaded his friend. "I’ll be in my twilight years having spent a small fortune placing flowers on your grave."

"Well. I’m not done on this subject, but how ‘bout I put you kids to work. We’ll have dinner ready to go when Rachel gets in."

Kim set down her glass and walked over to wash her hands. "Sure. Tell us what you want us to do."

"Okay. Kim, you can make the salad. Andy, I’ll get you to slice up onions and mushrooms. I’ll take care of the steaks."

Elliott began pulling produce from the refrigerator, and bowls, cutting boards and knives from cabinets and drawers. All the while he continued his sales pitch.

"Look. I don’t expect you to want a job like mine. But I could put you in touch with a couple of guys. You could at least hear what they have to say. Who doesn’t want to make more money?"

"Now why would I trade what I’ve got for more money, longer hours, all the politics, and a shorter life expectancy?" Andy paused to take a drink from his beer before continuing his defense. "Seriously. I like my job and I like the people I work with. You had a good day today but how many bad days did you have to suffer through?"

Elliott paused over the steaks he was seasoning to take in his surroundings. "Yeah, I’m suffering. But when I retire at fifty, you and Kim can come visit us during your two-week vacation! Now, how you coming with those onions and mushrooms?"

"All set." Andy handed the cutting board to Elliott. The butter spat out as Elliott slid the onions and mushrooms into the skillet and a wonderful aroma began to fill the kitchen.

"All right, you guys." Kim’s protective instincts kicked in and she decided it was time to change the subject. "Elliott, maybe you should try Rachel again."

Elliott placed the cutting board in the sink and reached for the phone.

"Yeah. I can’t imagine where she is. Maybe this was a hair day or a nail day and they’re running late. Why she puts up with crap like that . . ." He paused as he punched in the numbers and waited. "Nope. Same damn message. ‘The Nextel subscriber . . .’ ", he mimicked, shaking his head as he hung up the phone. It was after seven. The sun was just about down. It wasn’t like Rachel not to check in.

"Well, you guys in a hurry? You starved? Want to go ahead and eat?"

"No, no. Let’s wait." Andy spoke for both of them. "Rachel will be home soon and Kim’s still working on the salad."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Hey, we’re celebrating! Rachel wouldn’t want to be left out. But I’m ready for another beer. Kim, you ready for something a little stronger?"

"No, thanks, I’ll wait."

"Okay, well, let’s go ahead and fire up that grill so we’ll be ready when Rachel gets in." Elliott searched through a few drawers until he found the lighter wand and, with a fresh beer in the other hand, headed for the patio.

Andy made his way around the kitchen island and, with his free hand, put his arm around Kim’s waist as she sliced tomatoes.

"You okay?" he asked as though she’d been the one having this friendly argument.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Go on out there with him." Kim turned her head to kiss him. "I’ll be out in a minute."

While Elliott made the adjustments to the propane tank and the dials on the grill, Andy meandered around the decking, admiring his friend’s backyard. The accent lights had come on, showcasing the well manicured lawn, the full-grown trees and newly planted flowers. The pool glowed a cool, inviting blue. He strolled over to the edge of the pool and knelt down to feel the temperature of the water. He stopped short and just managed to keep his balance as he saw what lay at the bottom of the pool. It took only seconds to realize that Rachel wouldn’t be home for dinner, and not because of a late shopping spree or hair appointment.

"Elliott. You better take a look at this."

"Let me just get these steaks going."

"No, you better hold off on the steaks and come take a look at this."

"Ah, shit."

Andy heard the lid of the grill drop and the sound of Elliott’s loafers on the decking. But he couldn’t look up from what was lying at the bottom of the pool and he didn’t want to see the look that he knew would come to his best friend’s face.

"Did those yard guys . . . . "

Elliott’s voice trailed off as he reached the edge of the pool. He teetered for a moment, only slightly aware of Andy’s steadying hand. The blood seemed to explode in his head causing dark clouds to form over his eyes. Simultaneously, he felt as if someone had punched him in the gut – he had no wind to speak with.

His heart pounding in his ears, he walked the length of the pool - more slowly than Andy had, almost like an old man – taking in each item: the wedding picture in the gilded frame that she kept on her dressing table; the diamond-studded Cartier watch he’d given her so many years ago when he’d closed his first big deal; the pearl necklace that was a gift for - was it the 10^th or 15^th wedding anniversary?

Here was the Murano glass bird from the restaurant in Paris where they’d spent her 30^th birthday. One of these glass birds, in different colors, decorated each table instead of flowers. What a great trip that had been. One of the few times he and Rachel had spent a full two weeks together.

There was the Waterford crystal box that had held a five-karat emerald cut diamond necklace. She thought the box was the gift and had kissed him so sweetly. He had to tell her the damn box wasn’t the gift and told her to look inside. He’d given it to her at that cheap little restaurant she liked so much. It seemed so out of place – giving her a $20,000 necklace over a $50 meal.

Finally, at the deepest end of the pool, he saw what appeared to be a cell phone. He fixed on this for the longest time, realizing that this time was serious, this time she didn’t want him to get hold of her. And the sound of that fucking message played ironically in his head, "The Nextel subscriber you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try your call again later."