“I’ve missed you, Vanessa.”
I’ve missed me, too, I think.
But instead of speaking, I reach into my bag.
And I pull out my matching happy beads.
EPILOGUE
VANESSA WALKS DOWN THE CITY sidewalk, her blond hair loose around her shoulders, her arms swinging free at her sides. Her street is quieter than usual in the waning days of summer, but a lone bus lumbers by the spot I’ve staked out. A few teenagers loiter on the corner, watching as one spins on a skateboard. She passes them and pauses at a flower stand. She bends down, reaching for a generous cluster of poppies in a white bucket. She smiles as the vendor makes change, then continues on toward her apartment.
All the while, my eyes never stray from her.
When I’ve watched her before, I’ve tried to gauge her emotional state. Know thy enemy, Sun Tzu wrote in The Art of War. I read that book for a college course and the line resonated with me deeply.
Vanessa never realized I was a threat. She only saw what I wanted her to see; she bought into the illusion I created.
She thinks I am Emma Sutton, the innocent woman who fell into the trap she laid to escape her husband. I’m still stunned by Vanessa’s admission that she orchestrated my affair with Richard; I thought I was the one spinning a web.
Apparently we were unwitting coconspirators.
Vanessa has no idea who I really am, though. No one does.
I could walk away now, and she’d never be privy to the truth. She looks completely recovered from all that has happened to her. Maybe it’s best for her not to know.
I look down at the photograph I am clutching. The edges are worn from age and frequent handling.
It is a picture of a seemingly happy family: a father, a mother, a little boy with dimples, and a preteen girl with braces. The photo was taken years ago, when I was twelve, back when we lived in Florida. A few months before our family shattered.
* * *
It was after ten P.M. and I should have been asleep—it was past my bedtime—but I wasn’t. I heard the doorbell ring, then my mother call, “I’ll get it.”
My father was in his room, probably grading papers. He often did that at night.
I heard the murmur of voices, then my father scrambling down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Vanessa!” he cried. His voice sounded so strained it propelled me out of my room. My socks slid silently along the carpeted floor as I crept past my younger brother’s bedroom, to the top of the stairs, and huddled there. I could see everything unfolding directly below me. I was a spectator in the shadows.
I witnessed my mother fold her arms and glare at my father. I witnessed my father gesture with his hands as he talked. I witnessed my little calico cat wind between my mother’s legs, as if trying to soothe her.
After my mother slammed the door, she turned to my dad.
I will never forget how her face looked in that moment.
“She came on to me,” my father insisted, his round blue eyes, so like mine, widening. “She kept showing up during my office hours and asking for extra help. I tried to turn her away, and she kept— It was nothing, I swear.”
* * *
But it wasn’t nothing. Because a month later, my father moved out.
My mother blamed my father, but she also blamed the pretty coed who’d enticed my dad into an affair. She would throw out the name Vanessa during their fights, her mouth twisting as if those three syllables tasted bitter; it became shorthand for everything that went wrong between them.
I blamed her as well.
After I graduated from college, I came to New York for a visit. I looked her up, of course; she was Vanessa Thompson by now. My name was different, too. After my father left, my mother reverted to her maiden name, Sutton. When I became an adult, I changed mine to it also.
Vanessa lived in a big house in an affluent suburb. She was married to a handsome man. She was gliding through a golden life, one she didn’t deserve. I wanted to see her close up, but I couldn’t find a way to get near her. She rarely left her home. There was no way we could naturally intersect.
I almost cut my trip short. Then I realized something.
I could get close to her husband.
It was easy to find out where Richard worked. I quickly learned that he liked double espressos from the corner coffee shop every afternoon around three. He was a creature of habit. I brought my laptop and camped out at a table. The next time he came in, our eyes met.
I was used to men hitting on me, but this time I was the pursuer. Just as I imagined she had been with my father.
I’d given him my brightest smile. “Hi. I’m Emma.”
I’d expected him to want to sleep with me; men usually did. That would have been enough, even if it was just for one night; eventually, his wife would have found out. I’d have made certain of that.
The symmetry of it appealed to me. It felt like justice.
Instead, he suggested I apply for a job as an assistant at his company.
Two months later, I replaced his secretary, Diane.
A few months after that, I replaced his wife.
* * *
I look down at the photo in my hand again.
I was so wrong about everything.
About my father.
I was deceived once by a married man when I was college, Vanessa had said on the day we’d met at the bridal salon. I thought he loved me. He never told me about his wife.
I was wrong about Richard.
If you marry Richard, you will regret it, she’d warned me when she confronted me outside my apartment. And later, while Richard stood beside me, she’d tried again, even though she was visibly scared: He will hurt you.
I think of how Richard pulled me to his side, wrapping his arm around me, after Vanessa uttered those words. The gesture seemed protective. But his fingertips dug into my flesh, creating a little trail of plum-colored marks. I don’t even think he knew he was doing it; he was glaring at Vanessa in that moment. The next day, when I met Vanessa at the bridal salon, I made sure to keep her on my other side.
And most of all, I was wrong about Vanessa.
It is only fair that she knows she was wrong about me, too.
* * *
I make myself visible as I cross the street and approach her.
She turns around even before I call her name; she must have sensed my presence.
“Emma! What are you doing here?”
She was honest with me, even though it wasn’t easy. If she hadn’t fought so hard to save me, I would have married Richard. But she didn’t stop there. She risked her life to expose him, preventing him from preying on yet another woman.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Her brow creases. She waits.
“And I wanted to show you a picture.” I hand it to her. “This was my family.”
Vanessa stares at the photograph as I tell my story, beginning with that long-ago October night when I was supposed to be asleep.
Then her head snaps up and she searches my face. “Your eyes.” Her tone is even, measured. “They seemed so familiar.”
“I thought you deserved to know.”
Vanessa hands back the picture. “I’ve been wondering about you. You seemed to materialize out of nowhere. When I tried to look you up online, you didn’t exist until a few years ago. I couldn’t find much more than your address and phone number.”
“Would you rather not have known who I really was?”
She considers this for a moment.
Then she shakes her head. “The truth is the only way to move forward.”
And then, because there is nothing more for either of us to say, I signal for an approaching cab.
I climb into the taxi and twist around to stare out the back window.
I lift my hand.
Vanessa stares at me for a moment. Then she raises her palm, her movement a mirror image of my own.
She turns and walks away from me at the exact
moment the cab begins to move, the distance between us growing greater with each breath.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
From Greer and Sarah:
We are grateful every day for our editor and publisher, Jennifer Enderlin at St. Martin’s Press, whose brilliant brain has made this a much better book and whose unparalleled energy, vision, and savvy have launched it higher and farther than we ever dreamed.
We are lucky to have an outstanding publishing team behind us, which includes: Katie Bassel, Caitlin Dareff, Rachel Diebel, Marta Fleming, Olga Grlic, Tracey Guest, Jordan Hanley, Brant Janeway, Kim Ludlam, Erica Martirano, Kerry Nordling, Gisela Ramos, Sally Richardson, Lisa Senz, Michael Storrings, Tom Thompson, Dori Weintraub, and Laura Wilson.
Thank you to our amazing, smart, and generous agent, Victoria Sanders, as well as her fabulous crew: Bernadette Baker-Baughman, Jessica Spivey, and Diane Dickensheid at Victoria Sanders and Associates. Our gratitude also to Mary Anne Thompson.
To Benee Knauer: We are so appreciative of your spot-on early edits, most especially teaching us the true meaning of “palpable tension.”
Many thanks to our foreign publishers, notably our dreamy dinner partner Wayne Brookes at Pan Macmillan UK. Our deep appreciation also to Shari Smiley at the Gotham Group.
From Greer:
Simply put, this book would not exist without Sarah Pekkanen, my inspiring, talented, and hilarious co-author—and cherished friend. Thank you for being my partner in crime on this wondrous journey.
In my twenty years as an editor, I learned a tremendous amount from the authors I worked with, especially Jennifer Weiner and also her agent, Joanna Pulcini. I also want to thank my former colleagues at Simon & Schuster, many of whom I also regard as dear friends, especially my mentor at Atria Books, Judith Curr; the sublime Peter Borland; and the most talented young editor in the business, Sarah Cantin.
From elementary school through graduate school I was fortunate to have teachers who believed in me, most remarkably Susan Wolman and Sam Freedman.
I am deeply grateful to our early readers, Marla Goodman, Alison Strong, Rebecca Oshins, and Marlene Nosenchuk.
I am gifted with many friends—both in and outside of the publishing industry—who cheered me on from the sidelines. Thank you to Carrie Abramson (and her husband, Leigh, our wine consultant), Gillian Blake, Andrea Clark, Meghan Daum (whose poem to me inspired Sam’s), Dorian Fuhrman, Karen Gordon, Cara McCaffrey, Liate Stehlik, Laura van Straaten, Elisabeth Weed, and Theresa Zoro. A special shout-out also to my Nantucket book club.
Thank you to Danny Thompson and Ellen Katz Westrich for keeping me physically and emotionally fit.
And my family:
Bill, Carol, Billy, Debbie, and Victoria Hendricks; Patty, Christopher, and Nicholas Allocca; Julie Fontaine and Raya and Ronen Kessel.
Robert Kessel, who always motivates me to break down walls.
Mark and Elaine Kessel, for passing on their love of books, serving as my earliest readers, and always telling me to “go for it.”
Rocky, for keeping me company.
Extra-special gratitude to Paige and Alex, who encouraged their mother to pursue her childhood dream.
And finally to John, my True North, who not only told me that I could and should, but held my hand every step of the way.
From Sarah:
Ten years ago, Greer Hendricks became my editor. Then she became my beloved friend. Now we are a writing team. Our creative collaboration has been a singular joy, and I am so grateful for the way she supports, challenges, and inspires me. I cannot wait to see what the next ten years have in store for us.
My appreciation to all of the Smiths for their assistance through this process: Amy and Chris for the encouragement, laughter, and wine; Liz for her early read of the manuscript; and Perry for his thoughtful advice.
Thanks to Kathy Nolan for sharing her expertise on everything from marketing to websites; to Rachel Baker, Joe Dangerfield, and Cathy Hines for always having my back; the Street Team and my Facebook friends and readers who spread the word about my books with fun and flair; and my vibrant, supportive community of fellow authors.
I’m grateful to Sharon Sellers for keeping me strong enough to climb that next mountain, and to the wise, witty Sarah Cantin. My appreciation also to Glenn Reynolds, as well as Jud Ashman and the Gaithersburg Book Festival crew.
Bella, one of the great dogs, sat patiently by my side as I wrote.
Love to the incomparable Pekkanen crew: Nana Lynn, Johnny, Robert, Saadia, Sophia, Ben, Tammi, and Billy.
Always, and most of all, to my sons: Jackson, Will, and Dylan.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
SARAH PEKKANEN is the internationally and USA Today bestselling author of seven previous novels. A former investigative journalist and feature writer, she has published work in The Washington Post, USA Today, and many others. She is the mother of three sons and lives just outside Washington, D.C. You can sign up for email updates here.
GREER HENDRICKS spent over two decades as an editor at Simon & Schuster. Prior to her tenure in publishing, she worked at Allure magazine and obtained her master’s in journalism from Columbia University. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times and Publishers Weekly. She lives in Manhattan with her husband and two children. The Wife Between Us is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Part One
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Two
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE WIFE BETWEEN US. Copyright © 2017 by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Olga Grlic
Cover photographs: woman © Oleg Gekman/Shutterstock.com; side profile © Oleg Gekman/Shutters
tock.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover as follows:
Names: Hendricks, Greer, author. | Pekkanen, Sarah, author.
Title: The wife between us / Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen.
Description: First edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017037534 | ISBN 9781250130921 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250130938 (ebook) | ISBN 9781250185129 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
Subjects: LCSH: Triangles (Interpersonal relations)—Fiction. | Marriage—Fiction. | Psychological fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3608.E5297 W54 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017037534
e-ISBN 9781250130938
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: January 2018
The Wife Between Us Page 34