You Get What You Pray For by E.N. Joy

bags. “Well, I guess I don’t have to ask where you’ve been.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Put those bags down and come into the kitchen.” Nicholas removed the bags from Lorain’s hands and sat them on the foyer floor, by the fountain.
    â€œWhat are you doing home?” Lorain was so surprised that Nicholas was greeting her at the door when she walked in.
    Usually, the tables were turned, and she was the one doing the greeting. No matter how many errands were on Lorain’s to-do list, up until now she had always managed to beat Nicholas home. There was always one last patient to see, one last file to look over, or one last patient admitted to the hospital whom he needed to check in on. With such a hectic schedule, Nicholas was never afforded the pleasure of arriving home before seven o’clock, even though his office closed at five.
    Lorain looked down at her watch. Her mouth dropped. “It’s after seven?” As it turned out, Nicholas was right on his usual schedule. Lorain was the one who had let time get away from her. “Gosh. I lost track of time,” she admitted. “They were doing the final clearance of all the Christmas leftovers and returns. You know me. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”
    It didn’t matter how much money was in Lorain’s bank account. A great deal was a great deal. And not only did the wives enjoy bragging about their expensive items, but they also loved bragging about a good bargain at the same time. It was never a good thing for one wife to have something identical to the next wife, unless she could rub it in her face that she’d gotten it way below retail. Oh, there was pleasure in making the next wife feel as though she’d been ripped off by paying double for something. Fashionistas and bargainistas had the same ranking in their clique.
    â€œI’m so sorry I’m late.” Lorain kissed her husband on the cheek. “I have a nice, healthy light dinner planned for us that calls for chicken breasts. I need to marinade the chicken, though, so it will take a minute to prepare.” She looked at her watch again. “But since it’s so late, I guess I’ll have to whip something else up.”
    It was at times like this when Lorain wished she had a kitchen staff on hand full-time. She hired a kitchen staff only when she was planning an event or wanted a special, intimate meal with Nicholas and didn’t have time to review an instructional culinary video on YouTube.
    â€œNo worries,” Nicholas told her. “I’ve already got something special for you waiting in the kitchen.”
    â€œOh, lovey-dovey, how sweet.” Lorain kissed him on the lips this time. She then pulled away, raising an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Am I having dinner with you . . . ?” She wiggled both brows. “Or with Leon? And does this ‘something special’ involve chocolate syrup and whipped cream?” She grabbed him by his collar and looked over her shoulders. “Are the girls with my mom?” She lifted her leg and wrapped it around Nicholas’s waist.
    â€œWoman, cut it out,” he said, spanking her on the behind.
    â€œOoh, so it is Leon.” She offered her husband a mischievous grin.
    He shook his head, pushed Lorain’s leg down, and grabbed her by the hand. “Is that all you ever think about? Come on, gutter mind.” Nicholas led his wife through the dining room and into the kitchen.
    Even before they entered the gourmet kitchen, one that every professional chef Lorain had invited to cook in salivated at, the smell of an all too familiar meal teased Lorain’s nose. She immediately knew that the “something special” waiting for her in the kitchen was not the doing of her husband.
    â€œJust as I thought,” Lorain said when she followed Nicholas through the kitchen door and saw her mother at the six-burner,