Midas Touch Read Free

your never-ending accusations. I’ve done nothing to justify your jealousy, but you never seem to understand. You knew how it would be from the beginning. It’s the money. That’s all they’re interested in.” Just like you, she finished silently. “If I worked at Wal-Mart they wouldn’t give me a second glance.”
    Sandra flung her arms in frustration, sending a splash of club soda over her hand. “Damn!” She set the glass on a table and wiped her hand with a napkin.
    “You don’t love me anymore,” Carol said, her sniffs growing louder.
    “Please, don’t start. I’m tired and…”
    Carol whirled to face her. “You’re always tired. If any of those bitches in there knew what a lousy lover you are, they wouldn’t be so hot for you!” Without waiting for Sandra’s reply, Carol stormed across the balcony and disappeared inside.
    Stunned, Sandra turned her attention to the city lights. A remnant of the old thrill ran through her as she sighted one of her designs, the Strauss Building, her first major project in Dallas.
    She gazed at the structure as a mother would a child. It had been a long, hard process, but she had been involved in every step of

    its creation. She recalled the joy she once felt in designing a new building. How she had thrived on creating beautiful buildings that would survive the rigors of time. At some point in the last few years, her work stopped providing the same thrill. When had it all changed? When had she lost her enthusiasm for her work? All she wanted was… was what, she wondered? What did she want?
    Exhausted, she leaned her back against the cold stone wall for support. The French doors swung open and Sandra groaned as Lona Cromwell stepped out. Too late, she realized she should have followed Carol back inside. If success had taught her anything, it was that money was the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac.
    “Are you okay?” Lona asked. She stopped short of actually touching Sandra.
    Sandra tried to move away, but the corner of the balcony trapped her.
    “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve been working too hard.” She attempted to edge past, but Lona placed her hand on the wall blocking her way.
    “You need a woman who understands you,” Lona whispered, pressing her body against Sandra. She ran her hand along Sandra’s cheek. “I know what you need. I could make you happy.”
    Sandra pushed Lona away. “What I need is none of your concern.” She sidestepped Lona and returned to the party.
    The room was much more crowded than it had been before she stepped outside. After the bracing cold of the balcony the room felt overheated. Sandra searched for Carol in the swarm of over-dressed women. She heard Carol’s laughter from across the crowded room. How odd it was to hear Carol laugh. She seldom laughed anymore. As Sandra drew closer, she saw Carol talking to a blonde who looked familiar.
    The band struck up a rousing rendition of “Proud Mary” and Sandra groaned. Did every band in the world know that song?
    Women were beginning to dance. A short heavy-set woman Sandra recognized as a district judge, bumped into her. Sandra
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    felt the judge’s drink hit her arm and looked down in time to see a dark, sticky stain begin to spread across the front of her gown. The woman was apologizing, but Sandra waved her off and continued to make her way toward Carol. The heat and noise pressed down on Sandra. She tried to focus on a single individual or conversation, but the multitude of smells from the food, alcohol, and dozens of different perfumes wrapped around her like sheets of cellophane wrap. She struggled to keep her breathing regular as the tightness in her chest grew. The short, sharp pains plaguing her during the past week came back. There was not enough oxygen in the room. She turned trying to make her way back to the balcony, but Lona stood at the door waiting for her. Sandra stumbled toward the kitchen. With these women, the kitchen would be the safest room in