Schuyler Square Day 41 Chelsea Wants Revenge

What did her husband see in that woman? Chelsea Van Husen had been asking herself the same question over and over: what did Peter see in Mavis Schuyler? Staring across the well lit expanse of the We Dye For You Salon, Chelsea studied Mavis covertly.

OK, she was pretty but she was also well past 40, maybe even 50. Her body was still in good shape but the woman had seen a lot of miles and it showed. So what was the attraction? It sure couldn’t be her personality. Everyone knew that Mavis was about as warm as a fish. Chelsea just couldn’t understand why her husband, loyal, kind Peter, was fooling around with someone like Mavis.

Or maybe she did. It had to be the money. Chelsea had seen the clothes Peter was suddenly wearing, things he claimed to have found on the clearance rack at Sears. No way. Cashmere sweaters? Shoes made out of leather so soft that they felt like butter? Silk boxers? He must think she was stupid.

Well, Chelsea might not be the brightest bulb in the box but she was far from stupid. She had figured out that all of those meetings between Peter and Mavis weren’t exclusively about the Policeman’s Retirement Ball pretty quickly. Following the two of them around town had proven her suspicions. They made her sick—going to the Hilton so brazenly and then to the County Line Inn. They must think the whole town was stupid and blind.

The problem was: what should she do about it? Chelsea didn’t want a divorce. She didn’t make enough at Schuyler Industries to live on and without Peter’s salary she’d wind up either with a roommate or in a shelter within a couple of months. No, she’d way rather be a widow than a divorcee but that didn’t seem to likely either. Peter was only 40 and in extremely good health. Her only option left was to get rid of Mavis Schuyler once and for all.

 “You look like you’re deep in thought.” Sandra, the salon’s owner, commented.

“Just wondering if I should dye my hair. I think Peter might like me as a blonde.”

Chelsea saw a flash of pity in Sandra’s eyes. Like everyone else, Sandra must know how desperate Chelsea was feeling these days with her husband planking the First Lady of Schuyler Square. “You’d look very pretty as a blonde,” Sandra said, “but do it for you, not your husband.”

Oh, yes. Mavis Schuyler had to be eliminated. Chelsea had endured enough humiliation to last several life times. And then some.