Frank Brown

Making housewives happy


"Home, sweet home," Rita said as she unlocked the front door of her two-story mansion and ushered Alice into the foyer.

"Everytime I come over here I turn green with envy," Alice said. She paused in front of the foyer mirror to straighten the few strands of her red hair that the spring breeze had licked out of place.

"Tell me another one," Rita said. "Your house is even bigger than this monstrosity." She checked her own brunette hair in the mirror. "Pam darling, are you here?"

No answer.

"She must have finished early and left," Rita said. "Although I don't see how she could have cleaned this place in two hours, it usually takes her all day. She's such a petite little thing."

"It would take me a month to clean this place," Alice said. "And then I'd need about six months of bed rest to recover. So, where are the goodies?"

"Upstairs in the library," Rita said. "Right this way."

The two women removed their high heels and climbed the winding, plushly carpeted stairway in their stocking feet.

"I can't wait to see the old pictures," Alice said.

It was silly, but she hadn't felt excited like this in a long time – maybe not in years. It was so silly getting this excited over something as trivial as old high school and college yearbooks. She and Rita, on a whim, had deserted their women's social group at the country club to rush here to Rita's house and see the old yearbooks. It really was quite foolish, juvenile even.