Her Perfect Life

by Hank Phillippi Ryan

  “Wait,” I said, realizing. “You were at Lido. The maître d’.”

  “You thought so, maybe.” He actually twinkled at me. “I had to see what you looked like, didn’t I? How else would I have recognized you this morning? But I left after Banning reassured me it would work. You remember that.”

  “Yeah.” I took my coffee, unsettled. Banning had brought him to the restaurant. He’d shown me to the private room. He’d opened the door while we were talking, and I’d thought he was a waiter. “We’re fine,” Banning had told him. I’d thought he was talking about the wine.

  Sam Prescott and I sat on a slatted wooden bench outside the glass-walled aquarium, coffees in hand, waiting for the Graydon bus to arrive. He’d told me, as if we were old pals, that he’d been shocked when Lily threatened to ruin his life if he tried to get joint custody of Rowen. He leaned toward me, confiding, as the harbor drifted its briny fragrance over us. He’d been devastated, he’d said, when Lily refused to even let him see Rowen, let alone get to know her.

  He hadn’t set eyes on his own daughter in seven years. I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. I missed my father every day. Poor Rowen—I keep calling her poor Rowen—had that unique bond taken from her. By Lily. Her own mother.

  “Her whole attitude, her insistence. Her selfishness. It wasn’t like the Lily I thought I knew,” he’d said, looking out over the water, talking to the sky. Two seagulls dived and looped across a swath of cloudless blue, screeching at each other. “We’d had an amazing time together. You know how it is. I thought we’d had something. Even with … everything.”

  He’d looked at me with those green eyes—green eyes, I’d seen them instantly, wondered if that proved anything—and searched my face. “I know it was wrong. But have you ever fallen madly in love with someone? At first sight?”

  “Sure,” I lied. Weird question to ask a stranger, but maybe he was nervous. I agreed, because that’s what one does. “Amazing.”

  “Yeah.” He took a sip of his black coffee, then stared into the paper cup, seeing whatever he saw. “I suppose I fell for who I thought she was. She already had that Lily persona. Still, she told me everything. That weekend. And after that.”

  I nodded, watching for the Graydon bus. Wondered what “everything” meant.

  “She was such a star in the making,” he went on. “She’d come to Aspen that first weekend to—” He stopped, glanced at me. His eyes were darker than Rowen’s, but green was green. “Sorry. I’m babbling. I’m nervous.”

  I risked it. “Did she tell you about her sister?”

  “Cassie,” he said. “Yes.”

  I nodded. “What’d she say? Did she have any idea what happened?”

  “What’s Rowen like, anyway?”

  He’d ignored my question. Understandable. I felt so bad for him, this vulnerable man who should be happy and proud of his little girl, watching her grow up, hugs and balloons, but had to settle for sneaking pretense. It broke my heart.

  “She has your eyes,” I’d said.

  Now, in Banning’s dining room, Lily’s past was descending on her. I watched her fiddle with her phone while Banning messed with his files. I’d trusted him as Smith, more than Lily had. And it seemed like Banning and I still worked pretty well together. If Cassie went away again, things would be back to status quo, but Lily and I might have a deeper bond. Maybe she’d treat me with more respect.

  And she’d never know I was also helping keep her secret lover at bay. Cracks in our Lily’s façade. And I’m here to plaster them over. #PerfectLily continues unblemished, all because of me.

  “I need to call Petra,” Lily said, raising her cell phone. “Where can I—”

  “Kitchen,” Banning said. “And there’s a bathroom just past the fridge. If you need.”

  Lily was already tapping her phone as she walked toward the kitchen. That phone call made me nervous. If she talked to Rowen after she talked with Petra, and if Rowen mentioned seeing me and my “friend” … I should’ve dropped that tidbit into conversation earlier. But too late now.

  The sound came from upstairs again.

  “I gotta check the cat,” Banning said, gesturing toward the sound. “Be right back.”

  “Right,” I said.

  It had worked perfectly, the aquarium thing.

  “That’s them,” I’d said finally, pointing to the yellow bus that had pulled up in front of the aquarium’s main entrance this morning. The Graydon School was painted on the side. A little face peered out from each open window—pigtails and curls, glasses and headbands.

  “Do you see her?” Prescott had come to his feet, then sat down again. We’d chosen our bench strategically, predicting the bus would have to pull up to the front, so we didn’t even have to move to get the best view of the girls clambering down the bus’s front steps.

  “Not yet, “I said.

  One leg at a time, each in flapped-over white socks and white running shoes, followed by a plaid skirt and white shirt. The Graydon girls dutifully lined up like ducklings, one behind the other, fidgeting and pointing and whispering.

  “Is—?” He pointed.

  “No,” I said.

  Rowen was not quite the last one off the bus, but as soon as she emerged from the shadows inside, Prescott stood, still holding his coffee, staring.

  “Yup,” I’d said, but he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. “That’s her stuffed penguin, I guess. Lily says it’s her thing.”

  It was more interesting to watch Prescott than it was to watch Rowen. His face softened, and I don’t think I was imagining the emotion in his eyes. His chest rose and fell, and he did not take his eyes off her.

  “Now what?” he asked. “Do we—you—we—just—”

  “Hi, Rowey!” I called out, putting my coffee on the slatted bench. I cocked my head for Prescott to follow as I strode toward her. Banning had assured me it was all taken care of, whatever that meant. But if it was supposed to be a coincidence, I had to behave as if it were a coincidence. “So fun to see you!”

  I approached her in line, arms open to give her a hug. In two steps, a woman in a crisp white shirt, black blazer and skirt and serious red lipstick placed herself between us.

  “Excuse me?” she said. “May I help you?”

  “This is my auntie Greer, Ms. Glover,” Rowen explained. Her eyes widened as she stepped out of the row of her classmates and made the grown-up-sounding introductions. “She works with my mom at the TV station. Aunt Greer, this is Ms. Glover, the headmistress at my school.”

  “What a coincidence to see you, honey,” I said. I felt Sam Prescott behind me. Felt him taking a step closer. “Ms. Glover, I’m Greer Whitfield. Rowen’s emergency contact, in fact, after nanny Petra. You can see that in Rowen’s files. I’m Lily’s producer.”

  “Ah. Of course.” She looked me up and down, assessing. Her gold earrings glinted in the sun. “Ms. Whitfield.”

  I saw the headmistress’s attitude instantly shift. Lily’s name always did that, for better or for worse. Glover also eyed Prescott, and I had to wonder how much she knew. But this would be over soon.

  “Mind if we catch up for five minutes?” I asked. “It’s such a beautiful day, and I promise to bring Rowen right in. I know Penny the penguin wants to see his relatives.”

  “Her relatives,” Rowen said. “And yay, I can show you my new poems.”

  I heard Prescott spool out a breath. He was so close I could smell the coffee he still held. His adorable daughter, wide green eyes, bangs perfectly cut, a model of politeness, and she wrote poetry, too. Rowen had glanced at him, maybe wondering why I hadn’t introduced him, maybe bored with grown-ups. Maybe just a happy kid.

  The row of students, once perfectly straight, was beginning to lose its shape in the blue sky and sunshine, the lure of the harbor and the sailboats and the ice cream trucks tempting the girls to stray from their once-disciplined line. Two other adults, a fiftysomething woman with long gray dreads and a much younger one
in a flowered Lilly Pulitzer dress, tried to shepherd their charges back into place. The older woman waved to Glover, pointed toward the front entrance, and then her watch.

  Now or never.

  “Five minutes,” I said.

  “I’d like to, Ms. Glover,” Rowen said.

  “Of course.” Ms. Glover glowed cordiality. “Here’s her ticket,” she said, handing me a printout. “When you’re finished chatting, just take her to the front desk. I’ll tell the attendant to bring her to us.”

  Now pacing again, I checked out Banning’s living room, looking at the books on the shelves. Old-fashioned Reader’s Digest anthologies, striped covers lined up precisely, looked as if no one had ever touched them. He’d told me he’d rented the place, an Airbnb or something, once he’d learned Cassie wanted to re-enter the world. Said he should be here with Lily when it happened. Which seemed like a smart move—he was the only one who knew what had happened, and he had his father’s files.

  He’d lied to Lily about that. He’d told me his father had only pretended the files were lost. He was probably embarrassed that his father had lied to Cassie’s family and to the public in such a destructive and devastating way and didn’t want to make him look bad in front of Lily. Of course, it didn’t matter what I thought. I wasn’t Lily.

  “So back then, they pretended she was missing,” I’d said. “Even implied she was dead.”

  “Yup.” Banning had nodded. “They couldn’t reveal she was in witness protection; that’s the whole point. So they had to create some sort of explanation. And if she’s dead, she’s safe. No one’s going to be looking for her, so from Cassie’s point of view, it was a prudent decision.”

  “Not so great for Lily and her family, though,” I had to say.

  “Look. What can I tell you? After he died, we found the files.”

  “Is there anything that says where she is?” I’d asked. “I know you didn’t tell Lily, but—”

  “Nope.” Banning had shaken his head. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Lily came back into the dining room, holding up her phone.

  “All set,” she called out. “Rowen’s still at school, all good, Petra was just touching base. Where’s Banning?”

  “He went to check on the cat,” I said, standing at the archway at the bottom of the stairs. I pointed up.

  “It’s really a cat?” Lily ran one finger over the curved back of her chair. Picked her tote bag from the rug and hoisted it over her shoulder. “Huh. I just realized I’ll need a ride home. Could you…? Petra can take me to the station tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” I told her as I gathered my own bag from under my chair. “And why say it’s a cat if you don’t have a cat?”

  She pursed her still-glossed lips at me, and I swore her hair was still perfect and her blazer wrinkle-free. She’d had a crazy unsettling morning, heard that her long-lost sister—as we’d say in TV—was asking for permission to see her, and yet she looked absolutely camera ready. But, as I continued to learn, Lily was capable of hiding quite a bit. I’d never look at her the same way, now that I knew that under that veneer of perfection lay a few ugly secrets. Very Dorian Gray, without the portrait. I felt powerful somehow. And she didn’t even realize how much I knew, which was another tasty emotion.

  “You promise it’s not Cassie?” She looked at me, like I was an unreliable little kid. “You and I are friends. I count on you.”

  “I promise,” I said. Friends. Sure, when it’s convenient.

  Footsteps coming down the stairs. One person.

  “What’s the plan?” Banning asked.

  “How’s the cat?” Lily asked. “What kind of a cat?”

  Banning raised one eyebrow. I wondered how this was going to play out.

  “Cassie’s upstairs, isn’t she?” Lily said.

  “I told her she wasn’t,” I said, though I supposed I didn’t really know.

  Banning crossed his arms in front of him. Rolled his eyes, amused. “That’s why you get the big reporter bucks, Lily. Why would I go to all the trouble of … whatever. I get you’ve had your share of news for the day. So, no, not Cassie. Yes, a cat.”

  “I told you—” I began. Thinking to reassure her.

  “And also a guy who’s a client of mine,” Banning interrupted. “From out of town. Staying here. But you don’t need to be concerned about that. He had a big day sightseeing, and he loved what he saw. He can’t wait to do it again. As soon as possible, he just told me.”

  “That’s full service,” Lily said.

  They say when you’re caught in a lie, every element of your body reacts. That’s why polygraphs work. Your heartbeat, your breathing. Your nervous system gets jumpy, no matter how Zen you are, and every single one of your muscles contracts. I would have failed a lie detector right then. Miserably. I pretended I was having trouble finding my car keys, which made it reasonable to hide my face in my bag. He can’t wait to do it again, Banning said. Loved what he saw. That was no chitchat. That was a message. One chance meeting is explainable. Two chance meetings is a conspiracy. I would absolutely refuse. He could get himself another flunky.

  “So what’s your plan?” Banning asked Lily. Because of course I didn’t matter. “You think about what to say to contact your sister? And we should decide where we’re all going to meet, just in case it happens quickly.”

  “Ah,” Lily said. “I was thinking about here, actually, neutral territory. But seems like you have a full house. So maybe at the station?”

  “The aquarium is nice,” Banning said. “Outside, pretty, kinda public. You could bring Rowen.”

  I looked for my keys even more diligently. The aquarium. Seriously?

  Lily shook her head. “That’s where she was today, funnily enough. But inside’s better, I think. More private.”

  “Well, here’s fine with me,” Banning said. “If it works for you.”

  “Sure,” Lily said. “Your files are here, too.”

  He handed her a white business card, looked like the same one he’d given me at Lido. “Here’s my number. Call me the moment you hear from your sister.”

  “If I do.”

  “If you do.”

  The two of them were talking so fast, a game of ping-pong, that I felt invisible. Banning must have been taunting me about sightseeing, but why? And Lily had no idea that the client upstairs, and possibly able to hear every word we’d said must be—must be—Sam Prescott. Her secret lover. The man with designs on her daughter.

  CHAPTER 46

  LILY

  The landscaping of the neighborhood’s elegant homes showed off springtime, Lily saw from the front seat of Greer’s white Audi. Multicolored rows of tulips and the last of the daffodils, dogwoods in white-petaled bloom. Five o’clock, and the sunlight had softened as if reluctant to let the day go. Lily herself would be happy to say goodbye to it. But then, tomorrow would come. And, possibly, Cassie. She tried to imagine how her sister might look. The pretty one, she’d been. The smart one. For a while, at least.

  “Turn here,” Lily said, pointing to her left.

  “I know.” Greer tapped the brakes, keeping her eyes on the road.

  They’d already gotten caught behind a school bus delivering batches of kids onto the sidewalks, and two had dashed across the street, oblivious to the scatter of traffic. Rowen would be safely inside by now, Lily thought, probably playing in the backyard with Petra and Val. Talk about oblivious. Their lives were about to change, and there was nothing Lily could do to stop it.

  She fussed with her seat belt and gathered her stuff, impatient and confused and trying to figure out how else to feel. For all these years, Cassie was someone who’d only been real when Lily was a child. But all the while, Cassie had been living a new reality. And now wanted to draw Lily back into it.

  Greer, driving with back straight and eyes darting between her mirrors, hadn’t interrupted her thoughts. Lily’d been grateful her producer wasn’t more inquisitive. Maybe Greer was as exhausted as
she was. Banning arriving, then Lido, and finally the house on the corner. Those files. And the letter from Cassie. With its message to Lily. This day had lasted for weeks.

  She closed her eyes, leaned her head against the back of the seat. I’ll try to know where you are, Cassie had told her that night, and Lily knew it wasn’t a dream, no matter what that detective had later tried to browbeat her into believing.

  Smith—Banning—was Detective Kirkhalter’s son. She’d always predicted Smith had ulterior motives, and she’d been right. But there was only so much information a brain could hold.

  And now here he was, dumping Lily’s past into their lives. Which meant she’d have to tell Rowen about Cassie. She could not afford to have her daughter hear about it from somewhere else. To Rowen, Cassie was only a picture of a little girl with a dog. Making her a person—a flesh and blood fortysomething woman who was suddenly her real-life aunt—would have to be handled step by careful step.

  Lily saw the graceful willow in the corner of her yard, then the front of her house came into view. She was absurdly relieved every time she saw the white-painted siding and navy-blue door. Somehow she always worried it might not be here when she arrived. Burned to the ground. Or surrounded by police cars, red lights flashing disaster. The world was relentlessly unreliable.

  “Thanks so much,” Lily said as Greer steered into the driveway. “Want to come in?”

  Greer shifted into park, but left the car running. “No thanks. Gotta head home to the…” She shrugged. “TV, I guess. What’re you gonna do, though? Are you Instagramming your sister? I hope—” Greer looked at her, apologetic. “Lily? I hope this wasn’t too awful for you. I know it was a lot to take in, and I truly thought you’d be happy.”

  “Did you know Banning told me you were missing? Like—missing?”

  Greer’s eyes widened. “That’s elaborate.”

  “Right? Thing is…” Lily pursed her lips, trying to grasp an escaping thought. “During all that time at the station, he had to know you wouldn’t arrive. Or call me. How did he know that? Why’d he even get you involved?”