Sundays after church Ruth Cooper always went to her linen store, even though it wasn't open for business. In Seaville they stayed open on Sundays but not in Bay View. Although the towns were adjacent to one another, they couldn't have been more different. As Ruth saw it, Seaville was a working-class town and Bay View was chic, elite. She was proud she lived and worked in Bay View.
The reason she came down to her store on Sundays was because it was quiet and she could review stock, place new orders, and go over the books in peace. During the week it was impossible to get that sort of work done. Too much chattering between the clerks and customers, too much gossiping and fussing. Another reason Ruth liked to come to the store on Sunday was so she could get away from Russ.
Still excited by Annie's suggestion, Ruth put her key in the lock-made in the shape of a heart-let herself in, and locked the door behind her. Blissful quiet. No annoying sounds from a television, and most of all, no annoying hands trying to paw her.
What was wrong with Russ anyway? Married twenty-nine years, and all of a sudden he was chasing her around like she was a dog in heat.
She flipped on a light and pulled down the ruffled pink shade on the door. Looking around she took a deep breath, sighed. Ruth loved the look of the colorful towels stacked on the shelves, the printed sheets, the napkins, tablecloths. And in the center of the room were the decorative doorpulls, soap dishes, toothbrush holders, gold, silver, and porcelain light switches.
She walked down an aisle, let her hand trail across the stacks of Cannon and Fieldcrest towels, thinking maybe Russ was getting senile or something. But that was ridiculous, he was only fifty-six.
They both were. So what was going on, then? He hadn't touched her for eight years and all of a sudden it was sex, sex, sex every minute. Maybe it was all those girls on the television with the big bazooms that were getting him crazy. Whatever, he was getting her crazy. It was so peaceful those eight years, and now he had to start up.
She went down three steps into the back room where she kept curtains and bedspreads, and snapped on another light. Off this room was her office, small but efficient. She opened the door and screamed.
"What are you doing here?" she said, heart knocking against her chest.
The last thing Ruth Cooper saw before he slit her throat was a glint of metal and his smile.