Folly Cove (20 page)

“No.”

“Then what? Was he married?”

“No,” Elly said, adding that later, much later, she had been told by a criminal investigator that Hans was embezzling money. A lot of money. “He had raised funds from investors for an independent documentary, then spent it on himself. He'd skipped the country to avoid any lawsuits. Pretty soon he left Sweden, too. Nobody knew where he went. I never heard from him again.”

She could tell by her sister's expression—her eyes deep blue and
very still on Elly's face, like two cooling chips of ice—that Anne understood the rest without Elly having to say it: how she had spent that Christmas alone, drunk in her darkened apartment, the shades drawn. She'd stayed inside for nearly a week despite the warm December sunshine, until the booze ran out and her food, too.

Elly had told everyone who called from Massachusetts that she couldn't possibly get away for Christmas, but that she'd come later in the spring.

She hadn't done that, either, though, because she was sick. A fever first and dull cramping. It was painful to urinate. A bladder infection, Elly thought. She drank gallons of cranberry juice and ate yogurt at every meal. She didn't want to go on antibiotics unless it was absolutely necessary.

The pain worsened from mild to an intense burning sensation. Then there were sharp, stabbing cramps in her upper abdomen. She would have seen a doctor sooner, but she'd landed a union job, a music video with a major artist on a tight schedule. Elly took ibuprofen by day and drank tequila at night to help her sleep.

“Sounds like hell on earth,” Anne said.

Elly nodded. “It was bad. And I was stupid not to get checked out sooner. Finally, when the shoot finished, I went to my gynecologist. The doctor did a pelvic exam and ordered blood tests and an ultrasound. The diagnosis was chlamydia, which had apparently traveled to my internal organs.”

Anne reached over and took Elly's hand in hers. “Why didn't you call me?”

“I don't know. The whole thing with Hans left me feeling ashamed, I guess. As if I'd somehow helped him steal that money.” Elly told her then about the surgery to remove an abscess caused by the infection. “The doctor said there was some scarring. Enough that I might be infertile.”

“But you don't know for sure,” Anne said quickly.

“Right.” Elly closed her eyes and rested her head on Anne's shoulder. “But it's possible that I can't have kids.”

Anne squeezed her hand. “Oh, Elly. I'm so sorry.”

“I'm the one who needs to apologize.”

“What do you mean? For what?”

“For being less than cheerful around you and Lucy. It's just hard, looking at you with a baby and knowing I might not ever be a mom.”

“You don't
know
that,” Anne said. “If you ever decide you want kids, there are lots of ways to make that happen.”

Elly sat up and rubbed her face with both hands. “Look, let's not talk about me anymore, okay?” She turned to face her sister, leaning on the arm of the couch and tucking her feet beneath her. “You look great. Something must be going your way. Or someone? You said you had people over. Anyone special?”

By the way Anne blushed, she knew she'd guessed right. “Who is he?” Elly said, grinning.

“Nobody! God!” Anne said, but she was smiling, too.

Kennedy materialized in her strangely silent way and stood in front of them, a triumphant look on her face. “I put the baby to sleep,” she said, then narrowed her eyes at them. “What's going on?”

“Nothing!” Anne and Elly chorused, then laughed and pressed their feet together the way they used to do as children, warm sisterly soles connected, their strong legs like part of one creature, a current of energy running between them.

T
hey had redecorated the country club since the last time Laura was here. Everything was hunter green and gold now, even the plaid carpet. Vintage framed golf cartoons marched in neat rows above the fireplace. Silk flowers in tall vases stood on the tables, which were covered in cream tablecloths edged in gold embroidery. It was the sort of setting that made you worry about getting lipstick on your teeth.

Laura chose the cheapest chicken dish on the menu and a single glass of cava, the only wine under twelve dollars a glass, and smiled at the elderly waiter to show that she appreciated his efforts. Jake ordered soup and salad, no wine at all.

Sandra and her husband, Wayne, must not have eaten all day: they ordered appetizers and prime rib entrées with three sides, accompanied by a bread basket and two bottles of expensive Bordeaux. Now they were having dessert and VSOP cognac. When Laura did the math in her head, she could hardly breathe: five hundred dollars on dinner, at least. She hoped they wouldn't suggest splitting the bill.

“You two eat like birds!” Sandra exclaimed when Laura and Jake passed on dessert. “I exercise like a madwoman all week so I can have dessert on Friday nights. I love the club's molten lava cake, don't I, hon?”

She patted her flat belly, wrapped tightly into an emerald green dress. Both the aging waiter and Jake seemed to be having a tough time
keeping their eyes averted from the snowy pillows of Sandra's breasts plumped above the dress's deep neckline.

“My sweetie loves her sweets,” Wayne agreed, leaning back in his chair to swirl the amber liquid in his balloon snifter.

Wayne wasn't nearly as handsome as Jake. His face was cratered with acne scars and he was overweight, his stomach visibly distending his shirt beneath the blue blazer. He had a heavy South Boston accent and the manners of a ten-year-old boy on a camping trip. He had slurped his soup; eaten his salad with his large fork; and carved his steak like he was butchering the cow, sawing in the wrong direction with his knife until Laura had to look away.

Yet he was a likable man. Wayne seemed to know everyone's name. He had warmly greeted the host, the servers, even the water boy. The wine steward seemed to be a particularly close personal friend. Wayne asked about the man's wife and recommended a mechanic when the steward mentioned his Volkswagen was giving him trouble.

During dinner, Sandra raved about the magical effects of horseback riding on Melanie's confidence, then asked about Kennedy's favorite teachers and hobbies. There were also Sandra's sons to discuss in detail: sports every season, nothing but trouble in school; they'd have to get into college on hockey or football rather than grades.

Wayne, who'd earned a football scholarship to Boston College, shrugged this off. “What are you gonna do? Boys should be raised on the streets and in the woods. The actual real world! That's where you get yourself a real education! Ain't that right, Jake, my man?”

Jake cleared his throat. “Absolutely. Nothing like the great outdoors. I keep trying to convince my girls to camp with me, but they'll have none of it.”

“Yeah, well. They don't get to bring their blow-dryers and mascara, it ain't a real vacation,” Wayne said, patting Sandra's thigh with obvious affection.

Sandra giggled. Laura smiled with her lips pressed shut.

When Wayne steered the conversation toward work, Laura was pleased to have something to contribute. She talked about the riding
stables and her decision to build an indoor riding arena last year while Sandra chewed silently. Then Laura was annoyed with herself for being petty and competitive.

She was relieved when Sandra chimed in about her volunteer work, clearly proud of her efforts to make the school a better place. Sandra told them she'd written a grant to fund a new science lab, “possibly the only middle school science lab in our area,” she added.

Throughout dinner, Wayne expressed his adoration for his wife verbally and physically. At one point, he draped a beefy arm around Sandra's shoulders to give her a proprietary squeeze. Another time, he leaned over to nuzzle her neck like they were teenagers on a hot date that would end in the backseat of a car. Laura was amused, if a little repulsed, by these ridiculous, lusty public displays.

Still, as they left the restaurant, Sandra giggling and leaning on Wayne, Laura found herself wishing that Jake would at least hold her hand. They'd had a date. It was Friday night. They were out on the town.

Jake was silent beside her, probably calculating the damage this dinner had cost them. (Wayne had suggested splitting the five-hundred-and-twenty-dollar bill in half and Jake had complied without argument. Yet another charge on the credit card they never seemed to pay off.)

Laura sighed. She didn't want to think about money. It was a beautiful fall night, the moon nearly full and very bright above the meticulously groomed golf course, Venus a bright sequin beneath it. She wanted to make the most of their rare time alone together.

The parking lot was nearly deserted after Wayne drove away, waving from the window of his Range Rover. Laura became aware of the wind humming through the tall pines lining the club's long driveway. The stars were out, a full display of constellations that reminded Laura of the app Tom had encouraged her to download for her phone. She took her phone out and aimed it at the sky as Jake unlocked the car.

“Trying to get a signal?” Jake asked.

“No. I'm using a sky map,” she said. “Come look.”

Jake moved around the hood of the car to peer at her phone. “Pretty neat. Who showed you that? Kennedy?”

“I think so,” she lied. “Can't remember. Look, we're facing south. Here's Capricornus and Sagittarius.”

“Nice,” Jake said. “Let's go, honey. I'm beat and you're shivering.”

She
was
shivering, but not from the cold. She was upset, now that she didn't have to smile and pretend she was enjoying herself. Low moods always made her feel like she was coming down with the flu.

Loss
. That's what she was feeling: Laura wanted to take a picture of the night sky and Snapchat it to Tom, but of course she couldn't. That was all over now.

As it should be
.

“Did you notice how Wayne couldn't keep his hands off Sandra?” Laura said. She glanced at Jake, wondering if he'd felt any of the same envy she had. “Though I guess any guy would want to grope her. Sandra's dress didn't leave much to the imagination.”

“Right. Kind of a cheap display.” Jake started the engine and backed carefully out of the parking space despite the empty lot. “She seems nice, though. I hope our girls will be friends.”

Jake's response was predictable. He'd never been the sort of man who approved of women in revealing clothing. He had once told Laura to blame his prudishness on his “inner Puritan” when she surprised him at his office for their tenth wedding anniversary wearing a skintight red strapless cocktail dress over nothing at all. He'd actually laughed when she took off her coat and crossed the office to rub against him in her red dress. She had cried then, which of course made him feel terrible.

“It isn't that you don't look good,” he had explained earnestly. “You look amazing. But I would feel awkward, taking you to dinner looking like this. Like I'd have to defend your honor because every man would undress you with his eyes.”

“But you're the only one I
want
to have undress me!” she'd wailed.

At that, Jake had closed the office door and locked it. Then he'd slowly, tenderly peeled the dress off Laura's shoulders and made love to her on his desk, leaving her breathless and satisfied, yet ashamed, too, because she'd manipulated him into making love.

“Honey? What do you think?” Jake glanced at her.

“About what?”

“About Melanie and Kennedy being friends. That would be nice. Kennedy doesn't seem to bring anyone to the house anymore.”

“I doubt that's going to happen,” she said. “Kennedy thinks Melanie's a bitch.”

“She actually called her that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow.” Jake laughed. “Our little girl's growing up.”

“Faster than I'd like. I hope she and Elly found enough to do tonight.”

“I'm sure they did.”

He sounded distracted; Laura could tell from his tone that he'd lost interest in the conversation. “Jake, are we okay? You seemed really distant tonight.”

“You mean because I wasn't pawing at you, like Wayne was all over Sandra?” Jake sounded irritated now. “Of course we're okay. I mean, I'm tired tonight. It's the end of a long week. But I had fun until Wayne suggested splitting the bill down the middle. That hardly seemed fair.”

“Can we for once forget about money? Stop trying to derail the conversation.”

“Am I? Sorry.”

Laura sighed. “You are. But never mind. I'm too tired to deal with it anyway.”

“To deal with what?”

“With trying to examine our lives!” she said. “With asking myself where we're going. Whether we're happy. Maybe it's because I'm forty, but I've been asking myself those questions a lot lately. Haven't you?”

“No. I've been too busy worrying about other things. You know, like how the hell we're going to pay down the credit card and make our bills next month.” He glanced at her. “Sorry. Money again, I know. Off-limits.” Jake sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I feel bad that our date didn't cheer you up. At least we tried. We should definitely socialize more often.”

Laura smiled. “Because we're having so much fun, you mean?”

He laughed. They had reached the house. Jake parked the car and reached over to pat her knee. “Because you're wonderful and deserve to
have fun every day. By the way, have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”

“Yes. Several times. You can stop now. Anyway, Sandra was the gorgeous one.”

“Okay, it's my turn to tell
you
to stop,” Jake said. “You look classy and beautiful. I would never want you to dress like Sandra. She tries too hard. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'd be lost without you. You're my guiding light, Laura. You make me always want to be a better man. I hope you know how much I love you.”

“I do. But thanks for saying it.”

Jake came around to her side of the car and opened the door for her as he always did, offering his hand. Laura took it. They held hands up the brick walkway leading to the house.

She glanced up at Jake's handsome profile and smiled. It had been a good night. At least they were talking openly now. That was more than they usually had time and energy for at the end of every busy day.

And Jake loved her. She knew he did.

•   •   •

Anne was drifting off to sleep when there was another knock on her door. She squinted at the clock. Elly and Kennedy had left more than half an hour ago. Who would want to visit her at nine o'clock?

Laura! She probably came home and found out that Elly had brought Kennedy over here. Anne pulled a pillow over her head. Maybe if she didn't turn on a light, Laura would give up and leave.

The knocking continued. Finally, Anne sighed and sat up to peer out the bedroom window.

She was shocked to see her mother standing beneath the porch light, a slight figure hunched into the shawl collar of a long coat. Her gray hair gleamed silver in the bright light.

Her mother had stopped by the cottage only once so far, to hand Anne an envelope of money for tending bar. On that visit, Sarah had stayed for just a few minutes and stared at the furniture as if it might be covered in thorns. Then she'd surprised Anne by scooping Lucy into her arms when the baby started fussing.

Sarah had rocked in place from side to side, shifting her weight
from one foot to the other while holding Lucy and whispering about what they could see out the window: a pair of cormorants, a distant fishing vessel gleaming bright red against the blue sky. The baby had calmed down at once.

As soon as Lucy was quiet, Sarah had handed her back to Anne and left the cottage.

What could her mother possibly want now?

Anne climbed out of bed, anxiety making her forehead feel covered in spiderwebs. Her rib was better now—she hadn't broken it, as an X-ray proved when Sebastian had insisted on driving her to the hospital the day after her fall to be checked—but she moved carefully out of habit as she pulled on a flannel shirt over her T-shirt and slipped into a pair of black yoga pants borrowed from Flossie.

She silently felt her way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her before turning on the living room table lamp. The last thing she needed was for her mother to wake Lucy.

Anne opened the door and shivered in the rush of damp salty air. Sarah was wrapped in a calf-length mink coat. She'd never paid any attention to animal rights campaigns. Once, when Anne was in college and going through a vegan phase, she'd complained about her mother's furs.