Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty
Page 36
“Peyton.”
“Kenneth.”
“There’s no loophole and you know it. They’re going to take you to court if you refuse to come back.”
With this, Peyton snorted. She didn’t mean to, but in light of everything else that was going on, the conversation was ridiculous.
“Tell them to take a number and get in line.”
“What? I can’t hear you. Peyton?”
“Sorry, Kenneth, I have to run. Thanks again for everything. We’ll talk soon.”
She disconnected the call. That wasn’t so bad, not for one of the conversations she’d been dreading the most.
“Ma’am? Address?” the driver asked.
“Right, sorry.” She opened her Notes app, where she had saved the information earlier that day. “Eighty-second and Amsterdam, on the southeast corner, please.”
The ride was quick; there was no traffic on a Sunday night, and even though there were a thousand things she could be doing—probably should be doing—Peyton merely sat back and watched the scenery go whizzing by. The couples out for evening strolls, the children scootering up and down the sidewalks, the dogs of every size and type pulling at their leashes, all of them enjoying the warm weather and the relative serenity before another week of work and school resumed.
When the taxi slowed to a stop, Peyton added a hundred-percent tip and swiped her phone across the Apple Pay sensor.
“Hey, thanks,” the driver said, noticeably surprised.
“Thank you,” she replied, before climbing out and shutting the door. She gave him a little wave as he drove off.
Taking a deep breath, Peyton glanced at the sign above the foreboding double metal doors. She dialed Isaac, who answered on the first ring.
“I hope you’re calling to ask if we also need red wine?” he said, without saying hello. “Because the answer is yes.”
“Honey? You know how you’ve been wanting to do that fishing trip? The one where you go walking into the water and camp out and everything?”
Isaac laughed. “It’s called fly-fishing. And the camping part can actually be very luxurious, I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to go.”
“You what?”
“I want to go! You’ve been saying forever that it’s your number one bucket-list trip, and I think we should do it.”
“Peyton? Are you feeling okay? Where are you right now?”
“I’m totally fine, I promise. And as soon as I’m permitted, I want the very first place we go to be on your fishing trip. Just the two of us. For as long as you’d like.”
“Did you say as soon as you’re permitted?”
“Isaac? Please listen carefully. I don’t want you to worry, okay? I am fine—more than fine, actually. I’m great, because I’m doing something that is long overdue.”
“Peyton, I don’t—”
“Shhhhh. Just listen. I’d like you to call Nisha, and then I want you to walk into Max’s room and tell her how much I love her. Isaac? I love you more than anyone in the world, and I’ll be back to you as soon as I can.”
It took superhuman effort to press End Call, especially since she could hear him starting to yell. Her phone rang again immediately, but she silenced it and returned it to her purse. Her legs felt heavy, but she inhaled deeply and took a small step forward. Then another and another, until she was climbing the staircase in front of the Twentieth Precinct. Two uniformed officers walked outside as she stood, frozen, staring at the door.
“Ma’am? Do you need directions?” the young female one asked.
“Hmm? Oh, no, thank you,” Peyton said. They held the door open for her, and she thanked them as she entered. Directly inside was a metal detector; to her right there was a desk with a bored-looking officer doing paperwork.
“Can I help you?” he asked, sounding disinterested.
“Yes. My name is Peyton Marcus, and I would like to speak to a detective,” she said as confidently as she could manage.
“A detective? What’s it concerning?”
Peyton coughed and then cleared her throat. She took a deep breath, held it for just a moment, and said, “I am here to confess to a crime.”
To Dana Zuskin, my sister. My shrink. My other life partner. The one who will never fail to laugh at the inappropriate, the unfortunate, and the unsuitable with me. I love you.
In memory of Susan Kamil. Our time together was far too short, but I’ll be forever grateful for your guidance, support, and belief in this book—and me.
Acknowledgments
While I began writing this book what feels like forever ago, a large part of the heavy lifting took place during the unexpected and unprecedented time of a global pandemic. As any author can attest, there’s no such thing as an “easy” book, and I’ve struggled mightily, and for many different reasons, with nearly every novel I’ve written. But never like this. Losing Susan Kamil in 2019, the brilliant editor who championed me, believed in me, and cheered me on when I doubted everything, was devastating. When COVID-19 struck and the world first reeled, then shut down, tapping into any small shred of creativity—especially for a book that’s supposed to be a beach read—felt impossible. People everywhere were scared, sick, and dying. Like so many others, my young children were suddenly home and looking to us for their schooling and socializing. We were isolated from friends and family; our usual extensive support system evaporated in an instant. But through it all, these three people never gave up on me, even when I may have wanted them to:
Sloan Harris, thank you. Your honesty and forthrightness in good times and bad means everything to me. Thank you for always being my champion and friend. Our thirteen years working together have been the best of my career, and I especially love how our families have come to know each other and spend time together. I wouldn’t want to do any of this without you.
To Kara Cesare, my editor, who stepped in so seamlessly when the very worst happened, thank you. You were no doubt mourning your own loss but never hesitated to extend your hand and heart to a new author. Whether it’s the shared hometown roots or simply your instinctive, incredible warmth, I feel like I’ve known you forever. Thank you for taking a book—and an author—you merely inherited and making us both your own. I am forever grateful.
And to Lynne Drew, my UK editor, the one who has been there from day one, thank you. Whether we’re sitting at my dining table working on a manuscript together or sharing cocktails at book events in London or—currently—bemoaning our joint homeschool situations, I am so grateful to have you in my life. Thank you for the often overlooked work that you’ve done to make each and every one of my books the best it can be. I adore you.
Thank you to the people at Random House who have made me feel welcome from the beginning: Gina Centrello, Andy Ward, Robin Desser, and Avideh Bashirrad. And to the incredible team who helped turn a rough manuscript into a polished novel and then introduced it to the world with passion and professionalism: Debbie Aroff, Maria Braeckel, Susan Corcoran, Madison Dettlinger, Belina Huey, Michelle Jasmine, Leigh Marchant, Steve Messina, Colleen Nuccio, Paolo Pepe, Melissa Sanford, Jesse Shuman, and Susan Turner.
Thank you to everyone at my home across the pond, HarperCollins UK, for so brilliantly publishing my books: Charlie Redmayne, Charlotte Brabbin, Roger Cazalet, Isabel Coburn, Kate Elton, Alice Gomer, Holly Macdonald, Hannah O’Brien, Rachel Quin, Michael White, Jaime Witcomb, and Kimberley Young.
A million thanks to Felicity Blunt for spot-on manuscript reads and all-around terrific advice. Julie Flanagan, you’re a behind-the-scenes wizard and a welcome editorial voice—thank you for all you do. To Heather Karpas and Kristyn Keene: you can run but you cannot hide. I’ll find you both always.
To my friends who are more like family: Helen Coster, Vicky Feltman, Julie Hootkin, Audrey Kent, Mandy Lewit
ton, Leigh Marchant, and Arian Rothman, thank you for title inspiration, outdoor socially distanced dinners in a variety of cold and unpleasant places, and sanity-saving Zoom calls during quarantine where we discussed everything from the state of our country to the best foot peels on Amazon. I love you guys and all your people, too.
To all my actual family, who keep me sane and drive me crazy—like all the best families. Mom and Bernie, Dad and Judy, Jackie and Mel: thanks for being such supportive and loving parents and grandparents. Dana and Seth, Dave and Allison: who’s luckier than us? Raising our kids together has been the joy of a lifetime. And to the rest of the Weisberger, Zuskin, Cohen, and Kelberg clan, I feel so fortunate to have you all in my life.
To R & S, my loves. You’re finally starting to understand what it is your mommy does, and it’s been such a pleasure sharing it with both of you. You two are the lights of my life.
And lastly, mostly, to Mike. There is nothing better than sharing this great adventure with you. You make all of it possible, every minute of it. I love you.
By Lauren Weisberger
The Devil Wears Prada
Everyone Worth Knowing
Chasing Harry Winston
Last Night at Chateau Marmont
Revenge Wears Prada
The Singles Game
When Life Gives You Lululemons
Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty
About the Author
Lauren Weisberger is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of When Life Gives You Lululemons, The Singles Game, Revenge Wears Prada, Last Night at Chateau Marmont, Chasing Harry Winston, Everyone Worth Knowing, and The Devil Wears Prada—all of which were bestsellers. The Devil Wears Prada was published in forty languages and made into a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. Kevin McCollum, in partnership with Elton John, is adapting The Devil Wears Prada for the stage. Her books have sold more than thirteen million copies worldwide. A graduate of Cornell University, she lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children.
laurenweisberger.com
Facebook.com/lauren.weisberger
Instagram: @laurenweisberger
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