Leave Well Enough Alone by Rosemary Wells

had a cellophane window. “Modern Gala, Caterers for All Occasions,” she read. Dorothy wondered how much this party had cost the Hoades. Inside of a moment she knew. Seventy-five dollars and forty cents for food, plus a hundred dollars for liquor. Dorothy’s eyes popped. She replaced the bill in the envelope. Underneath it was another bill. It had already been taken from its envelope and lay faceup in the dish. It was from Crestview. Dorothy glanced at it as if she were not glancing at it. “Hoade, Katherine,” it said, and went on to list three indecipherable medical expenses plus something called dietary. The whole thing came to five hundred twelve dollars and that was for one month only. My God! Dorothy whispered, and dropped both bills into the exact positions in which she had found them. She felt awful for having looked. She crossed herself and apologized for having taken God’s name in vain. Five hundred twelve dollars for an old lady’s medical care was bad enough, but one hundred seventy-five dollars and forty cents for one party was something else. It’s a sin to waste money like that she told herself stoutly. No, it isn’t, replied another part of Dorothy. It would be just lovely to have that kind of money to waste.
    “Good night, Mr. Hoade,” she said as pleasantly as she could when he strode out of the living room and nearly bumped into her in the hall.”
    “What are you doing here?” he asked and without waiting for an answer opened the front door and, slamming it behind him, ran down the front steps to his car.
    Dorothy coughed politely as she entered the living room. Mrs. Hoade sat with her legs tucked up beneath her on the window seat. She watched Mr. Hoade’s car pull out of the driveway and dabbed at her eyes. “Never fall in love, dear,” she said, and got up and poured herself a drink. “I hope Mr. Hoade wasn’t rude to you,” she added.
    “Oh, no,” said Dorothy.
    “He really can be so nice,” said Mrs. Hoade, sipping from an old-fashioned glass. “You must have a bad first impression. We never have fights. We love each other very much.”
    “Oh...of course,” said Dorothy.
    “It’s so funny,” Mrs. Hoade said with a smile at the ice in her drink. “It really was one of those love-at-first-sight things with me and John. I was very bad. Sit down, dear. Will you have a drink?”
    “No, thank you,” said Dorothy. She sat in a wing chair.
    “What was I saying? Oh, yes. When I first met John. It was during the war. I’d gone to visit my best friend, Emily Baldwin. Emily and I had been friends all through school. She was engaged to a lovely boy. There was a dance on shipboard that night. This was in Norfolk, Virginia. The big naval base?”
    “Yes,” said Dorothy. She hoped this story would not take too long.
    “At any rate, there was a dance. I hadn’t come prepared, as I didn’t know, and I had no dress. Well, I met John that morning when we visited Emily’s fiancé. He asked me to the dance that night. I couldn’t find a dress in Norfolk. Do you know what I did?”
    “No,” said Dorothy.
    “Emily and I were the same size. That afternoon while we were waiting for the boys to get off duty, I got Emily drunk. I must have gotten three quarters of a bottle of vodka into her. I was drinking water, but she didn’t know it. She was so sick she couldn’t go to the dance. I borrowed her dress and went with John instead. Her fiancé, Richard, was killed at Midway three months later. Emily never saw him again. To this day she doesn’t know I did it on purpose, but I’ll never forgive myself. That’s what love will do to you.”
    “Oh, dear” was all Dorothy could think to say. She hated older peoples’ stories about love. They were always so sappy. She thought she’d change the subject. “What a nifty house this is,” she said, her eyes taking in the maroon damask drapes eagerly. An enormous Oriental rug, its pattern covered with birds and animals, covered the