been answered with a resounding yes and then some. The salad had
been overflowing…olives—both black and green, Greek and Span-
ish—cheese, three kinds that Alex counted, cabbage, water chest-
nuts, pine nuts, shredded ham. She made a complete and utter pig
of herself. It was divine.
She sat in the living room on the leather couch, perfectly con-
tent to relax and wait for Jennifer to return from refilling their wine
glasses. She’d never understood the appeal of leather furniture until
that moment. It always seemed unspeakably frivolous to her. Two
thousand dollars for a couch? Are you kidding me? Really, how
much more comfortable can it be than any other fabric? Then she
sat down and she was sure her sigh was quite audible. She had no
trouble at all nestling down into the corner and tucking her shoeless
feet beneath her. The leather wrapped around her like a hug.
“I may never get up from this couch,” she said.
The sun had set and dusk was settling over the lake like a soft
blanket. Jennifer had lit several candles around the room. The flick-
ering light on the buttery-soft burgundy of the leather gave the
whole room a warm and inviting glow and made it seem more like
early fall than late spring. As she lay her head back, Alex took a
good look at the room.
40 Georgia Beers
The coffee table and matching end tables were a rich, dark
cherry and obviously costly. A large, abstract painting adorned one
wall and matched the earthy colors in the area perfectly. It didn’t
really feel like a house by the lake. It felt like a warm, cozy library
or a cabin in the woods, someplace you wanted to hunker down
with a good book. The walls were a soft and richly pleasing shade
of cream, but they seemed almost textured. She cocked her head to
one side, trying to decide if it was the candlelight playing tricks on
her or maybe wallpaper. Unable to figure it out, she stood, crossed
the room, and placed her hand flat against the wall above the over-
sized leather chair, expecting to feel a pattern of some sort. It was
smooth under her palm.
“It’s paint,” Jennifer commented with a smile, startling Alex
into an embarrassed grin.
“Sorry. I just wasn’t sure. It looks textured.”
“Color wash,” Jennifer said. “I was experimenting. It came out
better than I’d expected.”
Alex eyes widened. “You did this?” Jennifer nodded. “Wow.
It’s beautiful! It sets the mood for the entire room. I’m really
impressed.”
It was Jennifer’s turn to look embarrassed and, much to Alex’s
delight, she blushed. Alex managed to smother a smile.
“Thanks. I like that sort of thing, interior design. I just did this
room last week. It’s the only one in the house that I’ve completely
finished, but I have plans for almost every other room.” Jennifer
laughed. “Eric thinks I’m insane.”
“No way.” Alex shook her head. “I can’t do this stuff. This
takes talent. Serious talent. Maybe you could help me with some
color decisions in my place some time.”
“I’d like that.” She handed Alex her glass and they returned to
the couch, one at each end, facing one another. Kinsey immediately
jumped up into Jennifer’s lap and curled up into a contented ball.
Alex shook her head in mock-disgust, but Jennifer just smiled. “So,
tell me about you, Alex.”
“I’m afraid I’m not really all that exciting.” Alex grinned as
she sipped her wine. She was not the kind of person to open up eas-
ily, especially to somebody she’d just met. Jackie often teased her
about how difficult it could be to extract information from her.
With Jennifer, though, she didn’t feel that foreboding sense of vul-
nerability that usually kept her from revealing much of anything.
The expression on the younger woman’s face was simply one of sin-
cere curiosity and the desire to get to know her new friend. It was
very flattering and Alex was instantly comfortable. “What would
you like to know?”
“What do you write?”
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 41
“That’s an easy one. I write fiction, mostly. Stories about every
day people. I’ve always loved mysteries and suspense and action
adventure, but I’ve never been able to write them. I love stories
about private eyes and female cops, but I don’t know them. I don’t
have those experiences.” She smiled sheepishly. “And I’m lazy, so
research isn’t my favorite thing in the world. I tend to write about
what I know. People you could run into on the street or in the local
grocery store. People who live next door.” She winked over the rim
of her glass.
Jennifer smiled. “You like mysteries, huh?”
“Oh, God. I love them. You ever read Sue Grafton? A is for
Alibi? B is for Burglar?”
“Nope. Can’t say that I have.”
“Well, then. I have an assignment for you this summer, Mrs.
Wainwright. I have the whole series. She’s up to Q now. You can
borrow my A is for Alibi and let me know what you think. If you
like it, help yourself to the rest. Grafton is a fantastic writer, one of
my very favorites. That’s where Kinsey got his name.”
“Really?” Jennifer scratched the object of the discussion
between his ears.
“Yup. Kinsey Millhone is the main character in all the novels.
It’s a she, but the breeder only had male puppies left.” Alex reached
over and covered the dog’s ears. “Don’t tell him he’s named after a
girl, okay?”
“It’ll be our little secret.” Jennifer giggled. “Do you write any
lesbian stories?”
The question took Alex by surprise. “Um, no. Not usually.
Well, not for public consumption anyway.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t.” She quickly tried to come up with a
reason, never having honestly answered the question, even to her-
self. “They’re not as marketable.” She nearly cringed at the lame-
ness of it.
Jennifer furrowed her brow. “But, you said you write what you
know.”
“Uh-huh.” Alex sipped her wine, feeling cornered.
Jennifer studied her for several long seconds, a question burn-
ing on the tip of her tongue. She finally filed it away for future ref-
erence and decided a subject change was in order. We’re definitely
going to address this later, she thought with determination. “Are
you from here originally?”
The relief was apparent on Alex’s face as she answered. “East
Rochester.”
Jennifer grinned. “Fight, fight, brown and white.”
Alex laughed. “Go Bombers.”
42 Georgia Beers
“What kind of colors are brown and white for a school? I
mean, who decided on that?”
“Whoever it was should be shot. Brown is not a flattering color
for most people. How ’bout you? Where do you call your place of
origin?”
“Pittsford, born and bred.” She watched Alex’s face and then
laughed. “Go ahead. You can say it.”
“Say what?” Alex feigned innocence.
“Ew! Pittsford. Where all the snooty rich people live.”
Alex burst into laughter, nearly showering Jennifer with wine.
“Hey, you said that, not me!”
“Yeah, but you were thinking it. Admit it.”
“You’re right. I was. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Jennifer grinned. “It’s true for the most part.”
Alex sighed dramatically. “It ain’t easy being rich.”
“Not always, no.”
“Did you go to school in Pittsford?”
“Nope. Mercy.”
“Ah. Private, Catholic all girls school.” Alex waggled her eye-
brows.
“’Fraid so.”
“What about college?” Alex gestured to her sweats. “Did you
go to NYU?”
“No, Eric did.” A shadow passed over Jennifer’s face, but she
chased it away. “I spent two semesters at Parsons School of Design,
but it didn’t last.”
“So that’s why you’re so good at this decorating stuff.” Alex
nodded with realization. “Why didn’t it last? Did you get home-
sick?” She had met a couple different people in her life that had
gone away to college, only to find that it wasn’t for them. Their
homesickness had been nearly catastrophic and they’d ended up
quickly dropping out and returning home, usually extremely embar-
rassed. She suddenly wondered if she was being insensitive by ask-
ing.
“Something like that.”
Alex knew that that was all she was going to get on the subject.
Since she had shut Jennifer down on the lesbian writing topic, she
figured fair was fair. We’ll come back to this, she thought. “How
’bout your family? Any siblings?”
“One older brother,” Jennifer replied. “He works on Wall
Street.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive,” she said, sounding anything but
impressed. She sipped her wine thoughtfully before adding, “Don’t
get me wrong. It is impressive. And Kevin’s a great guy…” Her
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 43
voice trailed off and Alex felt like she could read Jennifer’s mind.
“But he’s left big shoes for you to fill.”
Jennifer looked surprised, then shameful. “Yeah. My mom
thinks he walks on water.”
“And your dad?”
“He passed away last year.”
“Oh, Jennifer. I’m sorry.” Alex felt awful for touching on such
a fresh nerve.
“No, it’s okay. I like talking about him. We got along very
well.”
“Daddy’s little girl, huh?”
“Absolutely. Whenever Mom got too hard on me, Daddy would
come to my rescue. Now with him gone, I’m forced to fight my own
battles with her. I know I’m a big girl and shouldn’t have trouble
with it, but she always manages to make me feel like I’m twelve.”
Alex snorted at the all too familiar description. “Believe me, I
know just how you feel. I have very similar issues in my family, just
no big brother. I’m an only child and my father left my mother
when I was nine. She’s never gotten over it and—though she’d never
admit it—she has trouble being around me because I look just like
him.”
“And I bet she’s exceptionally hard on you,” Jennifer ventured.
“Exceptionally. It’s so difficult sometimes. I get torn, you
know?” She sipped her wine, gazing into space. “She’s so bitter and
angry and hurt because my dad didn’t give her any explanation. He
just went and that was that. I understand why that would be hard, I
do. But Jesus, it was more than twenty years ago. Isn’t it about time
to get the hell over it? Get on with your life? You know? I waver
between sympathizing with her—which causes me to do anything
and everything she expects of me—and wanting to scream at her to
just suck it up and move on, harsh as that sounds.”
“It’s not harsh. It’s understandable and perfectly normal for
you to feel like that.”
“You think?”
“It sounds like our moms are very, very similar.”
Alex grinned. “Eerily so. Although I will admit to being
slightly relieved to find I didn’t get stuck with the only insane one.”
“Ditto.”
They were comfortably quiet for several minutes. Alex was so
happy with the way the night had progressed, she didn’t want it to
end. She hadn’t connected so solidly with somebody since she’d met
Jackie and she was having a great time. Unfortunately, all good
things come to an end. When Jennifer tried to stifle her fourth
yawn, Alex took pity on her, glancing blatantly at her watch.
“Oh my God, is it almost midnight already?”
44 Georgia Beers
Jennifer blinked and squinted at the round Eddie Bauer clock
mounted on the wall. “Wow. It is.”
“We should let you get some rest.” She shook her head in dis-
believing affection at the furry white body that had twisted between
Jennifer’s knees. Kinsey was on his back, all four paws sticking up
in the air as he snored softly. “I think he likes you better than me.
Did you know that it shows security when a dog sleeps on his
back?”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. That’s the most vulnerable position he can be in.
Right now, he’s saying that he feels perfectly safe here with you.”
Jennifer’s expression softened and she flushed slightly, flat-
tered by the comment. “Well, he’s welcome here any time. As are
you. I’ve had a really great time.”
Alex stood and gently stroked Kinsey’s stomach, not wanting
to shock him awake. “Me, too. Next time, we’ll cook for you.”
“Kinsey cooks?” Jennifer teased.
“Oh, yeah. You’d be amazed. Come on, buddy. Time to go
home.” The Westie twisted himself back to a normal position, then
stretched his entire body. Alex watched in disbelief as he and Jenni-
fer yawned at exactly the same time. “I hate to break it to you,” she
said while snapping on Kinsey’s leash. “But I think your soul mate
is a West Highland White Terrier.”
Jennifer shrugged, scratching his head. “Well, I suppose I
could do worse.”
“Good point.”
They said their goodnights and Alex hummed her way across
the yard, feeling that giddy elation she only ever felt when she met
somebody she knew was going to be a part of her life for a very long
time.
Chapter
Six
If there was such a thing as a beautiful cemetery, White Haven
Memorial Park definitely qualified. Kept pristine and protected by
an elegant, wrought iron fence, it stretched for acres off Marsh