Some Women (8 page)

“I only know her a little through work, but everyone at Mead thinks very highly of her. And someone told me her daughter is some kind of prodigy.”

“I'm not sure about prodigy, but I understand she's extremely smart, always with her nose in a book.” Annabel pierced a hunk of cantaloupe with her fork and raised it to her mouth to take a bite.

“That's great. I wish I'd been like that as a kid.”

“I bet you were head cheerleader or something like that.”

“Not exactly. There wasn't much in the way of team sports in Bowman, Georgia.”

“You're from Georgia?”

“What? You didn't detect my Southern twang?”

“Not so much.” Annabel took a sip of water. “So, you still haven't told me when you're due.”

“Oh, right. July third. Summer baby.”

“No way. My boys were born on July ninth!”

“How old again?”

“Five. And the most delicious things you will ever lay eyes on.” Mackenzie watched as Annabel beamed with adoration. “Though they sure do give me a run for my money sometimes.”

“I'm sure. Is your husband helpful? That's the one thing I'm worried about, you know. Okay, that's a lie! There's a ton of stuff I'm freaking out about. It's just that Trevor is a great husband, but I'm not sure how he's going to be with an infant.”

“Henry is a good father.” Annabel's eyes shifted downward. “But we're actually in the process of getting divorced.”

“I'm so sorry.” Mackenzie placed her hand on Annabel's. “I'm sure that's not pleasant.”

“That's an understatement.” Annabel took a deep breath.

“I didn't mean to pry.”

“It's okay. I need to get better about saying it out loud without
feeling like someone's tearing my insides out. You know, it's a funny thing. You devote your existence to this person. Your days, weeks, months, and years revolve around them. You think about how to make his life easier at every chance you get. You worry about what he's going to wear, what he's going to eat, even how to make him feel like he spends enough time with the kids, despite the fact that he works overtime. And then, just like that. Just like fucking that . . .”

“Annabel?”

“I'm sorry. I'm rambling.” She looked up to see Mackenzie's face grow ashen. “Are you okay? Did I say something? What's wrong?” Suddenly tears were streaming down her face. “Mackenzie? What's happening?”

“I think I'm bleeding.” She looked down at the red fluid that had soaked through her pants.

“Oh, my God.” Annabel shot upright. “Don't move.” She rifled through her purse, handed Mackenzie a pack of tissues, and slapped thirty dollars on the table.

“I don't understand what's going on! Am I losing the baby?” Mackenzie clasped her arms around her stomach and felt ready to collapse.

“Let's go!”

“Where?” Mackenzie couldn't think straight. This couldn't be happening. All she could hold on to was the idea of the precious life inside of her.

“To the hospital. We have to get you to the hospital right now.” And with that, Annabel helped Mackenzie to her feet, rushed her to her car, and sped as fast as she could to Eastport Memorial, with Mackenzie sobbing violently beside her.

She'd left behind one very irate ten-year-old with a scowl on her freckled face and her arms folded across her chest. Most recently, Fern did not appreciate when Piper worked late into the evenings or went out to dinner without her, forcing Todd to fend for the two of them. She'd become whiny, petulant, even, sulking around the house, muttering insults under her breath. Was this the gateway to her teen years? It seemed too soon for that, but who was she to say? She'd heard horror stories from women with docile, even-tempered daughters who'd morphed into obnoxious, entitled brats as soon as puberty and its inherent hormonal swerves had arrived. But she'd never believed it would happen with Fern. Her unflappable, wise-beyond-her-years little girl.

From the early age of two, Fern had accompanied Piper on work assignments, sitting contently in her car seat, gnawing on a bagel. While Piper had questioned witnesses, furiously taking notes, Fern
hummed along to the theme song from
Sesame Street
blaring from the CD player. She'd taken Fern to hair appointments and doctor visits, even to the office on a few desperate occasions. And, without fail, everyone had remarked that Fern was the most easygoing child they'd ever been in the company of. It was as if she'd understood Piper's plight as a single mother. Apparently, not so much anymore.

Piper had spent the past few weeks lying awake in bed at night, wondering where she'd gone wrong and how to reverse it. Just the other day, she'd tried to sit down with Fern and talk to her about what she was feeling. Piper had reassured her that Todd was neither a replacement for nor a barrier to what they had. She'd told Fern that their bond was unbreakable. That it was so special, there wasn't a person or circumstance that could come between them. Fern had remained quiet, ostensibly listening to what Piper was saying. Seemingly absorbing the significance behind her words. She was certain she'd made headway. Until tonight. When Fern had stomped her feet. Hurled invectives. And even threatened to run away if Piper left her alone with Todd one more time. That had been a first.

Piper had considered calling Lucy to ask if she could stalk Henry Ford in her place, but Lucy had gone home to her parents' house in Massachusetts for a long weekend. Not to mention that she couldn't do that to Annabel. Piper had made a promise and, if there was one thing Piper was good for, it was staying true to her word. Sure, she'd left the house in shambles—with dirty dishes from dinner piled high in the sink and the contents of the family-sized carton of Goldfish she'd spilled still littering the pantry floor—but it'd been all she could do to pry herself from Fern's grip before swearing she'd be back to tuck her into bed. Henry and his companion had better not linger over dessert.

Piper perched on a stool at the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. She'd need more than one to ease the tension that had set up camp in the spot where her neck sloped into her shoulders. Annabel had told her to order whatever she wanted, on her, but when she'd checked out the menu online and noted the offensively exorbitant prices, even for Eastport, she'd settled for the leftover lasagna Todd had made the previous night and a promise to treat herself to a chocolate soufflé, courtesy of Annabel. After all, if she was going to be spying for her, the least she could do was pay her in sweets.

She scanned the restaurant in search of Henry. Luckily, Nellie's Tavern was an intimate spot with only a dozen or so tables, all of which were in plain sight. And, fortunately, Henry had no idea who she was or what she looked like. Thanks to the Internet and a few pictures Annabel had showed her, Piper now knew that Henry was tall with dirty blond, receding hair; large, oval-shaped light blue eyes, and about thirty extra pounds on his sturdy frame. He was attractive, though not her type, and definitely not what she'd pictured for Annabel. She wasn't sure why, since they'd spoken very little of him before he'd announced that he was leaving. Still, she'd imagined Annabel with someone darker, more ominous—someone who looked more like a technology mastermind than a football player. In the meantime, he was nowhere to be found inside the restaurant. If he'd canceled his reservation, she'd be legitimately pissed. Although Lucy had texted Piper at noon to confirm, even though she was out of town.

“Come here often?” She felt an arm heavy on her back and whipped her head around like Jackie Chan.

“Excuse me?” Piper snapped, prepared to effectively shut down whatever loser thought that line still worked. If ever it had. “Oh,
my God—Dan!” She laughed. “What are you doing here?” Dan was one of the copy editors at Mead. He'd worked at the company for longer than she had, and was the kind of guy she could always count on to tackle eleventh-hour corrections.

“Celebrating ten years with Ginny.” He smiled.

“That's so great!” Piper couldn't help but think about Annabel and how she'd lamented the fact that Henry was dining at the very restaurant where they'd celebrated multiple joyous occasions, including more than one anniversary. “Looks like a nice place.”

“Never been, actually. Ginny picked it. I almost went into shock when I saw the prices. I mean, thirty dollars for a salad?”

“Maybe it's gold-leaf lettuce.”

“It had better be.” Dan motioned to the bartender. “I'll take a gin and tonic, and the lady will have . . .”

“Another Pinot Grigio. Thank you.”

“You want to see what I got her?” Dan looked over his shoulder. “Before she gets here.”

“Definitely!” Piper swallowed the remaining wine in her glass before gratefully accepting another. She was appreciative for the impromptu company. Something to distract her from dwelling on the upheaval at home and the uncomfortable task at hand.

“Okay, now, be honest.” He pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket.

“Why? What are you going to do now if I don't like it?” She smirked.

“Good point. On second thought, don't be honest. Just tell me it's perfect.” He opened the lid, and Piper gasped at the delicate pearl bracelet with its figure-eight diamond clasp.

“It's perfect.”

“For real?”

“For real. She's going to love it. And if she doesn't, I'll take it!”

“If she doesn't, I may not have to remortgage our home. So there's that.”

“I believe your bride has just walked in.” Piper gestured toward the door and waved at Ginny, who was already walking in their direction.

“Hi, Piper.” She smiled warmly. Ginny was a slight thing, barely exceeding five feet in high heels, with short, spiky brown hair and sparkling green almond-shaped eyes. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope you're not joining us!” she chirped.

“No offense taken. That would be a little awkward, huh?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Dan pulled Ginny into a tight embrace. “Ready to sit down?”

“Yup!” She looped her arm through his.

“Are you waiting for Todd?” Dan looked around.

“Um, no.”

“Drinking alone?”

“Something like that.” What else could she say?
Actually, no, I'm here to trail my friend's husband. You know, see if he's been screwing another woman behind her back.

“Well, enjoy.” He patted her on the back.

“You too! I hope you lovebirds have a fantastic night.”

Piper swigged some more of her wine and checked her watch. It was already a quarter after eight. She smiled at an attractive woman at the other end of the bar, noticing how well put together she was in a tailored red suit, with long, sinewy legs and an elegant swanlike neck. Her thick, shiny black hair fell just below her shoulders, swishing effortlessly every time she turned her head.
What
would it feel like to look like her, if only for a day?
Piper wondered, and ran her fingers through her tangle of brown curls and gazed down disapprovingly at her own wrinkled black slacks and untucked white silk blouse with a coffee stain on the cuff.

She sighed. It appeared as though Henry wasn't coming. She rifled through her purse for her cell phone. She'd call Annabel first to tell her that their mission had been aborted. And then Todd to say she was on her way home, and to make sure that Fern didn't fall asleep before she'd had a chance to say good night.

“Welcome, Mr. Ford. It's so nice to see you again,” Piper heard the hostess announce before looking up to find Henry standing less than ten feet away. “Your guest is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Linda. I'm sorry I'm late.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Ford. We always have room for you at Nellie's.”

He nodded, following the hostess to the other end of the bar, where the lady in the red suit greeted him with a demure smile and a chaste peck on the cheek. Then she led them to their table for two in the corner by the window.

Piper squeezed her eyes shut, praying that what she'd just seen wasn't leading down the path she thought it was.

The path to Annabel's worst nightmare.

•   •   •

“Hey, you.” Todd greeted her at the door, drawing her close to him.

“It's freezing out there.” Piper stomped her boots forcefully on the floor mat. “I thought it wasn't supposed to be this chilly until January.”

“It's just a quick cold front passing through this week. Then we should be good for another month.” He helped her slip out of her jacket and walked it directly to the closet to hang it neatly in line with the rest of their coats. Most likely because he knew Piper would have tossed it on the closest piece of furniture. “Do you want a cup of coffee? Decaf?”

“That sounds amazing right now.” Especially since she'd had two glasses of wine. Gratefully, Nellie's Tavern was only a mile from their house.

“How's Lucy?”

“Huh?” Piper sat down at the kitchen table, feeling a little tipsy. She'd always been such a lightweight.

“Lucy. Your assistant. The one you just met for drinks.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” She'd nearly forgotten her own lie, which was precisely the thing about lying. Too many details to keep straight.

She hated being dishonest with Todd. She'd scolded herself more than once for not having been up front with him from the start. Fine, so she knew he'd disapprove, but she was an adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Regardless, stalking your friend's soon-to-be ex seemed so juvenile. Probably because it was. And she didn't want Todd to view her that way. Piper wanted him to regard her as someone with a strong moral compass, a woman of virtuosity. A role model. Of course, she was entirely comfortable with him watching her go to the bathroom, standing beside the toilet while he brushed his teeth. Still, though, that fell safely within the confines of intimacy, whereas snooping around where you weren't supposed to just made her appear childish.

“So, did you guys have fun?” He set a steaming mug in front
of her and sat down across from her with his own. Todd and Lucy had hit it off immediately. After Todd and Piper had been on three dates, Lucy had declared that she was
absolutely certain
that Todd was Piper's Prince Charming. Because at Lucy's ripe age of twenty-five, she still believed in things like soul mates and happily ever after. She'd never been burned by an ex who'd decided to sow a prettier pasture or, even more galling, take off to find himself and not return for more than ten years. Lucy had survived two and a half decades unscathed. Come to think of it, Piper had never met anyone she'd dated.

“Oh yeah, for sure. Lucy's the best. Though we did have to get some work done.” Piper felt the guilt rise in her chest. The guilt from protracting the lie and from leaving her family so she could do so. “Was Fern pissed that I wasn't here to put her to bed?”

“Hard to say. She didn't speak more than two words to me all night. And those words were
Get out
when I attempted to enter her room.”

“I'm so sorry. I thought things would be getting better with her by now.” Piper dug her elbows into the table and pressed her face into her palms.

“I've told you you don't have to apologize. I still think this is pretty normal.”

“But it's getting worse.”

“I have to agree with that.” Todd slid his chair next to hers and began stroking her back. “Do you think maybe we should make an appointment for her to see someone? Like a counselor. Even if it's nothing to be worried about, it might set your mind at ease.”

“That's a really good idea.” Piper looked up and around the room for the first time. “You cleaned everything. Again.”

“I couldn't help myself.” He shrugged perfunctorily.

“I feel awful. You should have left it.” She cupped his cheek in her hand. “You're too good to me, you know that?”

“Too good? Nah. I just knew you wouldn't want to do it when you got home tonight. And I had the time, what with being ostracized by the only other person in the house.”

“You really sure you want to commit to us lovely ladies? One slob and one diminutive bully.” She laughed feebly. “I'd be running for the hills as fast as my legs would carry me.”

“I think I'll stick around. I prefer to think of you as eccentric and Fern as a work in progress. She's a good kid. She'll come around.”

“Eccentric? Eeew. That makes me sounds like a crazy old lady who confides in her cats and knits everyone wool scarves.”

“A scarf would be cool.” Todd leaned in and kissed her on the lips, and she inhaled the sweet and spicy aroma of his aftershave. “Especially if you knit it for me.”

“I would love to. Only one small problem.”

“Don't know how to knit, huh?”

“Not even a little.”

“Well, in that case, I'll settle for you accompanying me to bed.” He clasped her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I'm sure you can find a way to make it up to me. My nonexistent scarf, that is.”