Lost Along the Way (27 page)

E
arly the next morning, Meg climbed into her car with Nick as her passenger, and Jane climbed into her usual seat in the front of Cara's hatchback. Jane had packed all the essentials for their trip: muffins for sustenance, Xanax and Ambien for a lot of reasons, and wine for a celebratory drink when everything was over. Cara couldn't remember a time when she'd been looking forward to something this much and yet dreading it at the same time. She glanced over at Jane and could tell instantly that what they were about to do wasn't fazing her in the slightest. Cara had always envied her courage—now more than ever.

“I thought about this all night, and it's never going to work,” Cara said.

“Yes, it will. I want you to know that I was expecting this. Some doubt is totally normal, but I'm not going to let you scare yourself into backing out. You will do this because he deserves it and because the Cara I know is fearless. Plus, we're already in the car. There's no way we're turning around now. Have some faith in me. It will work. I know it will. It's time to man up.”

They drove toward Cara's house with little traffic, but that was the least of Cara's worries. She repeatedly checked the rearview mirror to make sure that Meg and Nick were still following them. When they turned onto Cara's block, both cars pulled over so that Jane could hop out and get into the backseat of Meg's car. Before she left, Jane pulled a sandwich-size zip-lock bag from
her purse. She handed it to Cara, wrapping her fingers firmly around it. “Are you sure you know what to do? Do you have any questions?”

“I'm pretty sure this is a felony. I could be arrested for this,” Cara said.

“I doubt it will come to that. At least I hope it won't.”

“That's comforting.”

“Just stay calm and do exactly as we planned. I have no doubt that this will work. Zero.”

“Really? Zero?”

“Well, maybe not
zero,
but pretty damn close. This is your best shot. Text me when it's show time.”

Cara watched Jane amble back to Meg's car and tried to steady her breathing. Something about this felt horribly wrong: morally and ethically. Still, it just might work. It might—as long as she could force herself to go through with it. She pulled her car into the driveway and removed her bag from the trunk. As she suspected, Reed's Jeep was parked by the garage. Once she'd told him she was on her way home, she knew he wouldn't dare miss the chance to make her squirm upon arrival.

She entered through the front door and scanned the foyer for any sign of him. There wasn't any, but that wasn't surprising. Reed wasn't the type of guy who came home from work and slung his jacket over the banister or left his briefcase in the hall. He was meticulous, immediately putting everything away in its proper closet or drawer, and he demanded the same of her. For the first time, she was struck by how cold and sterile her house was. Meg's home in Montauk was smaller than Cara's house, but it was inviting. It was cozy, it was welcoming, and it was filled with loving memories and the smells of freshly baked muf
fins. Cara's own house looked like a museum. There was no love here. She dropped her bag on the floor and walked into the living room, where she found Reed sitting on the cream-colored sofa, waiting for her.

“Hello, Cara,” he said. “I honestly don't even know where to start. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Cara reminded herself to stay calm. If she lost her cool, there'd be no reasoning with him, and she needed to make him feel as if he'd won. “I'm sorry. I needed to get away. I'm having a hard time dealing with my mother's death and I needed a time-out.”

“A ‘time-out'? From what? Did leaving home for almost a week bring your mother back to life?”

“That's not funny.” Hearing the callousness with which Reed referred to her mother made the lump return to her throat. How someone could feel no empathy, or sympathy, or sorrow in a situation like this was beyond her. Cara had never really understood the ways in which her husband's emotional circuit board was wired, but she no longer cared.

“Are you honestly going to make me ask where you went?” he asked.

“I went to my aunt's house in the Poconos,” Cara lied. She held her breath, knowing full well that her story wouldn't be an easy thing for him to believe. She hadn't been up to her aunt's cabin in years, but still, if she wanted time alone, there'd be no place better for her to go.

“I didn't think you liked the cabin. You always said it smelled like skunk.”

“I don't like it, but it was the only place I could go to be alone. I made do.”

“And totally forgot about your obligations here? Were you going to be back for the party if I hadn't texted you? How would I have explained your absence? If you have no problem embarrassing yourself in front of the entire town, that's one thing, but you don't have to embarrass me. You know how important this is to me, and that I need Neal's approval if I want to get into the club down south. Do you care at all about what's important to
me
?”

“Of course I do,” she lied again, so mind-numbingly tired of pretending to be sorry. “I just needed some time to think, that's all. I'm back in time for the party. No one needs to know I was gone.”

“And the letter? Did writing
that
help you to think?”

“I was angry. I said . . . wrote, actually, some things I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.”

She choked out her apology. Jane may have dictated the words, but penning that letter was still the first really honest thing she'd done in years. No one would argue that there wasn't a better way to handle this entire situation, but it was too late for what-ifs now. The end result was the only thing that mattered.

“Sorry isn't sufficient. Is that how you're going to handle problems in life? Run from them?”

“No. I can honestly say that I agree with you. Hiding in the woods alone is a really stupid idea.”
Hiding in the Hamptons with old friends, however, is not.

“I mean it, Cara. I won't allow this kind of behavior in my home, and I don't know how, but I'm sure that Jane had something to do with you thinking it was okay to run out of here like that. It's not a coincidence that she shows up and you start acting completely crazy. It's one of the reasons why I told you she
wasn't welcome here. She's not good for you. Do you want people in town, or at the club, using our name in the same sentence as hers? Do you know what that would do to our reputation?”

“I know that would ruin you and everything you've worked for. I know your reputation is the foundation of your business and every social connection you have. I shouldn't take them lightly. It won't happen again,” Cara said. That much was true.

“Can I expect you to get your head on straight and be a good wife at the party on Friday? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes. Everything will be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I don't want to see Jane ever again. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I promise you'll never see her again.”

But that doesn't mean she won't see you . . .

There was smug satisfaction in avoiding a lie by actually telling the truth. Cara was tired of doing this little dance, the one where she pretended to be the one in the wrong and let Reed chastise her like she was his daughter instead of his wife. She didn't know how much longer she could trust herself to hold it together before she just blew a fuse and went completely ballistic on him.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked. Reed was habitual to a fault, and he always had a cup of green tea in the afternoon because he stupidly believed the antioxidants would help him stay young. Still, if he said no, she didn't have a plan B. Everything hinged on it.

“Yes, I think I will have a cup. Make sure the water is scalding hot. Half the time you make tea, I feel like I'm drinking dishwater.”

Cara went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. She leaned her elbows on the counter and let her head hang while she
waited for it to whistle.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, and you are most certainly desperate
. She removed two mugs from the cabinet and dropped tea bags into both. She peeked into the living room and found Reed still sitting on the sofa, talking on his phone. When she was assured that he wasn't going to surprise her in the kitchen, she removed the zip-lock bag from her pocket and placed the two small pills on a cutting board on the counter. With the back of a chef's knife, she began to crush them, reducing them to a powder, and then dusted it into the bottom of his mug. She poured boiling water over it, watching it fizz and bubble and then, as Jane had promised, ultimately disappear.

She calmly picked up the mugs, the one with the crushed-up sleeping pills in her right hand, and carried them into the living room. She handed him his tea, took a sip from her own, and sat quietly on the sofa next to him. Jane had promised her that it wouldn't take long, twenty minutes maybe, for the drugs to kick in. She could think of only one thing that could get her away from him while she waited for him to fall asleep. “I'm going to go upstairs to work out. You're right. I should exercise more.”

“It's about time,” he said as he took a slug from his drink.

“Do you mind if I use the StairMaster in your room?”

“By all means.”

Cara went upstairs and threw on a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt, and sneakers and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She went into Reed's room and climbed on the machine, not because she gave a shit about exercising but because she had so much nervous energy it was either that or pace the room. When fifteen minutes had passed, she hopped off, and skulked down the hallway. She paused and listened intently, but heard nothing. She must have waited three minutes at the top of the stairs, until she worked up
the courage to creep down and check on him in the living room. When she did, she found him snoring on the couch, the empty mug on the table, the white powder now seeping into his bloodstream. She stood over him and clapped her hands loudly three times, but he didn't even flinch. Satisfied that he was out cold, she said a prayer to her mother to help her get through this, then furiously typed two quick messages. The first was to Tabitha:

Something came up and we won't be able to make the party on Friday, so don
't worry about picking us up. So sorry to miss it. Have fun!

Then she sent a text message to Jane.

Mission accomplished. You're up.

“I don't know
how or why I let you guys talk me into this, but I'm reconsidering my decision. I don't want to play anymore,” Nick said from the front seat of Meg's car. “I don't know why I agreed to be a part of this absolutely ridiculous idea.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way, but the fact is, you did agree and it's too late to change your mind,” Jane said calmly as she stared out the window from the backseat.

“I really don't want anything to do with this! I don't know what I was thinking. I'd like to chalk my momentary lapse in judgment up to extreme boredom or the overabundance of crime drama on cable TV, but now that my common sense has returned I'd like to change my mind.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Meg said. “You're in. Deal with it.”

“Come on, don't let your nerves get the better of you,” Jane added.

“Have you lost your mind, Meg? Besides the fact that this is illegal, I will never be able to pull it off. The last time I tested my acting skills I was in grammar school and cast as a dancing bear
in
The Nutcracker
. This is way out of my league.”

“You can't back out now, Cara's already inside. If you bail on us we'll be screwed! It's time to man up, Nick,” Meg said, attempting to be authoritative even though there was nothing authoritative about her.

Nick sighed. “Look, I'm sorry, but I can't! I want to help you, really, I do. But there's no way in hell this guy is going to believe me. Look at me! I don't even look the part.”

“That's not true. You look very handsome in your suit. Powerful, commanding, manly,” Jane said.

“I've never come across as manly and I've never cared. Know your audience. You'll have to do better than that,” Nick joked.

“I was trying to give you a compliment.”

“This guy is not an idiot. Why on earth do you think he'll believe me?” Nick asked, panic noticeable in his voice.

“Because there's no reason for him not to,” Jane said, as calm as ever. “Just use a bunch of big words and don't get ruffled. He'll be so blindsided by this whole thing he'll believe you. Don't give him too much credit. He's not used to being challenged by anyone, certainly not Cara. He'll be too stunned to really think about the specifics of anything. You can do this. Besides, I'm the one who has the hard job here. At least you get to keep your clothes on.”

“That's supposed to make me feel better?”

“We can do this,” Meg said. “If Cara can go through with her part, then it's up to us to go through with ours. We aren't leaving a man behind.”

“What are you, a navy SEAL?” Nick asked.

“No, just someone who's tired of being a passive player in life. I'm nervous, too. That doesn't mean I'm not going to help. For
Christ's sake, I'm the getaway driver. You know what happens to those people? They're always the first to be busted.”

“I'm beginning to understand how all of you guys managed to fuck up your lives so badly before the age of forty, you know that?”

“Yup. And now we're going to drag you down with us,” Meg said, nudging him with her elbow.

Jane's phone buzzed on the center console. “Okay. She's ready for us. Are you guys good to go?”

“I am,” Meg said.

“Good,” Jane said. “Let's do this. Nick, it's time to spice up your life a little.”