Of all the people he’d been trying to imagine her cheating with, he never even thought about Trey Conway. How many times had he made comments to Jason about how tight they were growing up, about how much in love they were in high school, about how close he was to the Whitfields’ and to Colin especially? How many times had Jason walked in on him with his hands on Pace in some seemingly innocuous way, seen him watching her at social functions, listened to him talk to their friends about the good old days when they were a couple? Trey was an asshole with a capital A and Jason would have, before seeing them together, said he was the least likely candidate for an affair with Pace because he’d always been so obvious with his intentions and she’d always laughed him off.
And now they were going to be at the game in Athens together, able to socialize, or whatever they were doing, right under his nose. Every decision he’d made on the plane ride back, every vow to forget about the pregnancy test and the email from her doctor, went up in smoke as he watched the two of them together. Seeing Trey there, at the table, in his in-law’s house on Thanksgiving, felt like salt in a gaping wound. It was time to call in the cavalry and he didn’t mean Dr. Falcon.
Jason got home Saturday a good five hours before Pace and the kids got back from the game. He’d torn the house apart looking for evidence against her. By the time he got home, he’d convinced himself she was having an affair with Trey and, although he didn’t find anything at home, he couldn’t stop searching for the truth. He ran a finger over the number he’d scrawled on a notepad: Frank DeAngelo, Private Detective. According to DeAngelo’s web page, he specialized in infidelity. Photos, reports, twenty-four hour surveillance. What a way to spend your days and nights.
As Jason looked over his website, he thought about what a huge step this would be, what a breach of trust it would feel like to their marriage. But if hiring a private detective proved she wasn’t having an affair, he’d live with the consequences if Pace ever found out. He really hoped she didn’t find out. DeAngelo’s fees list read like a take out menu: one price for half-day surveillance, extra fees for travel and unexpected expenses, hourly fees where everything was a la carte, and there was even a GPS option, the most economical choice of all. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find a link to coupons for buy-one-get-one-free or fifty percent off for those unfortunate bastards in a second or third marriage.
Frank DeAngelo didn’t sound gruff and world weary like Jason had imagined, but normal, like an accountant. He listened while Jason told him about their situation, practically congratulated him on narrowing the suspects down to one, and suggested the GPS option with a couple of half-day surveillances for a time when he’d be out of town. When DeAngelo advised him to look on his website for the signs of infidelity, a staggering list of nearly forty items, Jason could only attribute six, most of which were pretty random. The six out of forty seemed too small to really matter, but the pregnancy, her lies, and Trey Conway tipped the scales and, before he knew it, he’d agreed to send DeAngelo a thousand dollar retainer. A little peace of mind was putting a serious dent in his wallet.
Chapter 16
“What is it, Tor? I’m swamped right now.”
Tori heard the irritation in her husband’s voice, even through the background noise that reminded her of the early days of his first campaign. She vividly remembered the sense of anticipation they woke to every morning, sometimes on the floor where they’d either passed out or made love the night before when the passion of what they were doing needed a release. This was why she hadn’t told him she knew about Heather, despite her vow to confront him after Thanksgiving, and why his affair made complete sense. The long hours, the infectious sense of doing something important, the way everyone banded together. It was hero worship and, for the first time, Tori could understand why a young woman like Heather would be drawn to Colin. At that very moment, she convinced herself his affair was an offshoot of the campaign and not a real threat to their marriage.
“I’m sorry to bother you at the office, but we’ve barely seen each other in days. I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to slip away. Trey’s arranged a handful of interviews and that’s on top of everything else.”
She suppressed a sigh of impatience. It was difficult to understand his tunnel vision when she was outside the tunnel. “I’ll wait up for you then. It’s important.”
It was after midnight when Colin came home. She could tell by the sound of his footsteps in the hall he was tired and he confirmed it when he entered the bedroom with his coat in his hand and his shoulders slumped. For the first time in a long time, she thought he looked old.
“Hey.” He squeezed her foot under the blanket and threw his coat over the chair. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”
She closed her book and took off her reading glasses. “You look exhausted.”
“It’s a good kind of exhausted.” He unbuttoned his shirt and headed into the closet. When he emerged pulling a t-shirt over his head and wearing pajama pants, she felt a stir of desire. Competition, it seemed, was good for both of them.
“I’m worried about Pace.”
Colin cocked his head to her great irritation. We only have one daughter, she wanted to scream. Couldn’t he focus on anything but the campaign? “What about Pace? She looked fine at Thanksgiving.”
“She looked the exact opposite of fine at Thanksgiving.” She pulled back the duvet and stood up to plead her case. “Didn’t you notice the bags under her eyes and the way she and Jason were together?”
“No.”
She sighed dramatically and was reminded of her daughter’s theatrics. Pace obviously got her flair for the dramatic from her mother. “There’s something going on between the two of them, I know it.”
“Okay…” He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and she followed.
“I need you to talk to her, see what you can find out.”
“Me?”
Toothpaste pooled at the corner of his mouth and he looked like an overgrown child. “You know she won’t talk to me,” Tori pleaded. “She’ll think I’m interfering.”
He spit into the sink and wiped his mouth. “Then why do you think she’ll talk to me?”
She’d spent so many years insisting Colin take an active role in his daughter’s life, scheduling time for them to spend together, arranging dinners and lunches out, buying special gifts for Colin to give to Pace, all in an effort to make up for her own lack of a father. But in doing so, she’d somehow managed to diminish her standing in Pace’s life. “She adores you.” She let him pass and they faced each other with the bed between them. “A little prodding from you will seem like nothing more than fatherly concern. She’ll tell you what’s going on.”
“I don’t think so, Tor.” He pulled back the covers and got into bed. “We don’t talk about stuff like that.”
“Which will make her more compelled to put you at ease or empty her conscience. Please, Colin. I’m really worried.”
“Honey, I don’t know that I can fit this in right now. I’m going back to Washington at the end of the week and with the campaign…”
“Colin, you know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think our daughter was in trouble. I’ve come to accept Jason into the family, but if he’s making her unhappy…”
“Okay, okay. I’ll call her and set up a lunch.” He slipped down under the covers and let out a big breath as if she’d asked him to negotiate a peace treaty. “But I don’t think she’ll tell me what’s wrong—if there even is something wrong.”
She got into bed and turned out the light. Too wound up to sleep, she stared up at the tray ceiling and watched the fan spin round and round. “There’s something wrong, alright. I just don’t know what it is.”
* * *
Pace was surprised to see Sherry at her door Tuesday morning, her daughter Katie on her hip, a knowing look in her eyes. “Can I come in?” she asked when Pace just stood at the door.
“Yes,
of course.” Pace moved out of the way and followed her as she headed for the kitchen. It was a mess, dishes piled high in the sink, the boys’ breakfast plates still on the table, the coffee pot off, but not cleaned out. She’d spent so much time obsessing about Jason that she couldn’t seem to get anything done.
Things had been better between them before Thanksgiving. Before Trey and his antics. Trey had cornered her outside the bathroom and asked if there was trouble in paradise, like a breakdown in her marriage was something she’d discuss with him or joke about. And of course Jason had seen them coming out of the small passage together, another encounter Trey may or may not have orchestrated that she was left to explain. It was hard to explain something to someone who avoided speaking to you.
Sherry looked around at the mess and then set Katie down at the only free spot at the table and pulled a container full of cheese cubes and applesauce from her bag. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t worry about Katie mucking up your usually pristine house. What the hell is going on with you, Pace?”
Pace leaned against the sink in her pajamas—flannel pants, tank top, and old sweatshirt—and wondered how to answer. Was Sherry mad because she hadn’t called her in awhile or that she didn’t immediately step up and agree to be room mom when no one else would? “What do you mean?”
Sherry let out a big breath as she scanned Pace from her slippers to her bed-head. “You look like shit, you totally avoided me at the Wilson’s party, and I haven’t heard from you in weeks. What gives?”
“Nothing.” Pace tried to think of an excuse that would keep her off her back. Her foggy mind went blank. “I’ve been busy.” Her attire and the state of the house proved Pace a liar. She was sick of pretending nothing was wrong. She’d rather Sherry think she’d turned into a lazy slob.
“You haven’t returned my calls.”
“Did you call?” Truth was, she hadn’t exactly checked the machine or answered the phone in awhile.
“About a million times. Pace, honey, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”
The last time Sherry had wanted to know what was wrong she thought she was pregnant. Now she didn’t know what she was. “No, I’m not sick.”
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing.” What else could she say?
Sherry looked at her, picked up Katie’s spoon when it fell onto the floor, and rinsed it off at the sink before passing it back to her daughter. Pace could tell by the look on Sherry’s face she wasn’t done with her interrogation. “Seems like Jason’s working all the time lately.”
“He’s busy, yes.” Where was this going?
“Honey.” She turned Pace to face her. She was pretty, with her blond hair and dark blue eyes. They looked brown sometimes when the light wasn’t bright. “Are you and Jason having problems?”
Pace knew this was coming. She knew the phone lines had been burning up with gossip that the Kelly marriage was on the rocks. She’d gotten snide looks at the grocery store, heard the whispers when her back was turned at school or at the bus stop, but hearing Sherry say it made her want to throw up. She’d lie to her if she could, tell her straight to her face that she was wrong, nothing was wrong, make her feel ashamed for asking. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to sustain the facade. The truth, in its own damning way, seemed like the easy way out.
“Why would you ask me that?” Pace turned her back to Sherry and walked into the den. When she sank onto the couch, Sherry took a seat in Jason’s favorite chair and cast quick, but worried glances between Pace and Katie, who still sat the table chomping away.
“My sister said she saw you and Jason coming out of a therapist’s office. A marriage therapist.”
Of course, in a city of millions, Pace couldn’t go anywhere without being seen. And yet Jason believed she’d pulled off a secret affair?
“What happened?” Sherry asked.
Pace shrugged and didn’t say anything. She wanted to tell her, but she didn’t want to tell her. It seemed like everyone already knew, but telling Sherry would confirm the rumors and start in motion something she might not be able to stop. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sherry. I can’t.”
Sherry stared at her for a moment, then asked, “Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?”
“I know it’s all over the neighborhood. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about it, would appreciate you encouraging everyone else to butt out.”
“People are worried,” Sherry said. “I’m worried.”
“There’s no need. Whatever is going to happen will happen with or without the whole neighborhood being in on the dirty little details.”
“I won’t tell anyone the details if you just want to talk.” She frowned at Pace. “You really look like you could use a friend.”
She could use a friend. She’d tried calling Amanda, not that she was the most sympathetic of her friends or that she was in any place to hear about her marriage troubles, but she already knew. It wouldn’t seem like she was doing something wrong in discussing it with someone who already knew and was familiar with their therapist. Amanda had been out of town, with Paul she’d assumed.
“Is Jason cheating on you?”
The surprise on her face was probably vivid and, for some reason, she almost laughed. When Katie screamed to get down, Sherry snapped up and brought her into the den. “You don’t have to answer, Pace. Just know I’m here for you if you need me.”
Pace stood up and hoped Sherry would take the hint she wanted her to leave. “I hope you’ll keep this between us.”
“Yes, of course I will.” Sherry stopped at the door and turned to face her. “Please call me if you need anything, to talk or get out for awhile.”
Pace appreciated her offer and told her so before she went. She knew what Sherry thought as she loaded up her daughter in her new minivan. “Glad it’s not me,” she probably said to herself as she headed back home to her nice little life.
Pace waited at the soccer field for Mitchell and Sherry’s son Stetson to finish with practice. Winter had taken a three day reprieve as it sometimes did in the South and the mid-sixty degree temperatures had brought everyone back outside. As the boys dribbled balls between cones, Pace walked to the playground to check on Dillon and his friend Jack. They swung from the swings and giggled like a couple of girls. She smiled at their innocence and silently thanked Sherry for letting Jack come along.
She and Dillon usually kicked a ball around or she helped him with his homework during practice, but lately he’d asked to sit in the car and read. Normally she’d have been thrilled he wanted to read, but she knew it wasn’t a newfound love of books that had instigated his request. He didn’t like to be around her one-on-one anymore. She heard him laugh as he pumped his legs on the swing and physically ached for her loss. Of all the things this mistake had cost her, she never imagined it would include the carefree laughter of her children.
As she turned back toward the playing field, she spotted Lynda Daniels, an old neighbor who had moved to a smaller house after her divorce. Lynda sat on a bench while her two daughters played in the sandbox. She’d cheated on her husband with a contractor they’d hired to update their kitchen. Her affair, the discovery, and subsequent divorce had been fodder for months and spread like wildfire through the neighborhood and school. Lynda had been ostracized by friends, acquaintances, and even strangers.
More shocking than the affair was that it was her, seemingly the least likely person in the neighborhood to cheat. Lynda was understatedly pretty, with the kind of classic looks and dress of conservative, yet stylish women. Her husband was a big time stockbroker and if either of them were to cheat, he certainly seemed more likely. Pace remembered hearing absurd stories about how she and the contractor spent their time together, most unsubstantiated and probably untrue.
Pace fell into the acquaintance category with Lynda, their kids having spent a year in kindergarten together. She stared at her now. Lynda wrote something in what looked like a journal, gla
ncing occasionally at the girls. She seemed peaceful and healthy, not at all like the gaunt woman who used to slink around town after her affair became public knowledge. Pace had heard from someone she was still with the contractor.
Lynda turned her head and saw her staring from where she’d leaned against the fence. Caught, Pace thought and stood upright. She knew Lynda recognized her, she could see on her face and in her eyes that she expected Pace to turn around and pretend she didn’t know who she was. A few weeks ago, she probably would have. But now, looking at her, knowing she’d survived what Pace was in the middle of, she couldn’t ignore her. She walked to the bench and cleared her throat.
“Hey, Lynda.” Pace brought her hand to her chest. “I’m Pace Kelly. We live in Hidden Forrest and my son Dillon was in your daughter’s class at Parkside.”
Lynda gave her a weak, skeptical smile. Without an invitation, Pace took a seat on the bench at the opposite end where she sat. “How have you been?”
She watched Lynda take a breath, with her eyes on her girls, and let it out slowly. “I’m fine, Pace. How are you?”
For such a simple phrase, one usually devoid of meaning, she’d packed a punch into fine. Pace had never passed along gossip about Lynda, but she sure did hear enough about it to feel guilty. “I’m…” She paused and while she struggled with how to answer, a fine line built between her brows. What the heck was she doing? She didn’t know this woman, she didn’t owe her anything that her own fine wouldn’t cover, but somehow… Pace shrugged and turned her head toward Dillon as he and Jack jumped off the swings and ran for the monkey bars. She could feel Lynda’s eyes on her like a heat lamp. “I’m okay. Are your girls doing well at Loring?”
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