I shook my head. “I’m fine. The sun must be getting to me.”
He nodded. “It’s hot out today. Can I get you some water?”
“Honestly, I’m fine. Let’s find a little shade.”
We walked together across the field. It was flooded with people now, and the air was filled with the sounds of people chatting and laughing and enjoying themselves. Ally would have gotten such a kick out of seeing it. There was a little part of me that believed I’d tell her about it one day, and I clung to that.
“Is that her?”
My heart lurched. I followed Tony’s gaze to the photograph of Allison in the light blue dress resting on an easel. Linda must have had it blown up for the memorial. I nodded.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” The other photographs of her, the ones in which she was blond and too thin, nudged into my head, and I pushed them away. No. This was how I wanted to think of her that day, in her light blue dress with her face tilted toward the sun.
Tony scuffed a shoe on the grass. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but . . .” He hesitated. “After our conversation the other day, I was thinking that you might need someone to talk to, and I’d like to be that person. I think maybe I can help, or at least listen. I don’t want to put any pressure on you or anything, but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out for coffee sometime. I know I’ll probably see you at the library again, but frankly I don’t want to wait until then if I can help it.” He ran a hand through his hair. I could see that he was nervous. “I’m impatient, too,” he said with a smile. “Add that to the list of things my wife—” He swallowed the rest of his words and shot me an uncertain look.
The pill silenced any suspicion I might have felt. He was just a nice, lonely man who wanted some company and was trying to help. There wasn’t anything sinister behind it. I nodded. “How’s Wednesday for you?”
His face broke into a smile, and even the sadness in his eyes seemed to recede a little. “Wednesday’s great. Is there somewhere in particular you want to go?”
“There’s a place a few towns over in Felton called Sunnyside Café—sweet little place. I’d rather not meet in Owl’s Creek if that’s all right with you. You know how small towns are.”
He nodded. “Sure. How’s three o’clock for you?”
“Perfect.” I realized I was already looking forward to it.
I blinked and found Shannon standing in front of me in her uniform. She smiled at me shyly and I resisted the urge to gather her up in my arms. She looked so young. “I don’t mean to bother you but there’s a couple over there,” she said, nodding toward a well-dressed older man and a brittle, nervous-looking blond woman. “They want to meet you.”
I stared at them. There was something familiar about them, especially the man, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “Did they say what they wanted?”
She shrugged. “Just that they wanted to meet you.”
It didn’t matter if I couldn’t place them, I guessed. They’d come to Ally’s memorial and if they wanted to talk to me, they could. “Tell them to come over,” I said. I turned to Tony to apologize but he was gone, and I saw his back striding through the crowd toward the parking lot. I realized I was still holding the flowers in my arms and put them down on the table beside me.
I watched the man come toward me, the blond woman by his side. He was tall and broad shouldered, his dark hair still thick and streaked with silver, and his eyes a dark blue. Maybe he was someone I worked with at the university, I thought. Though I wasn’t sure why he’d feel the need to go through Shannon to be introduced if that were the case. His wife, or whoever she was to him, was like a perfect little doll, all slender limbs and cherry-red mouth and honey-colored hair. She reminded me of the photograph of Ally, the one of her in the fancy dress.
The realization finally broke through the syrup as he stepped toward me and extended his hand. It was David Gardner. And the beautiful woman on his arm, the one who reminded me so much of Ally, was Amanda. After all this time, I was finally meeting them. I blinked a few times and willed my mind to clear.
“Mrs. Carpenter, I’m so glad we’re finally meeting,” he said smoothly, placing a firm hand in mine and leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’m Ben’s father, David.” There was a smell coming off him, something musky and citrusy and no doubt expensive. It instantly gave me a headache.
“I know who you are,” I said, taking a step back and stumbling slightly on the uneven grass. They were the people who hadn’t bothered to return my phone calls. They’d brought into this world the man who’d taken my daughter away from me. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. “Please,” I said, “call me Maggie.”
“Maggie, allow me to introduce my wife, Amanda. Ben’s mother.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, she had launched herself at me, her thin arms wrapping around me tight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my ear. My face was buried in her hair and I could smell hair spray mixed with perfume. Shalimar.
I extricated myself from her grip. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss, too.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth. I looked into the woman’s eyes and saw heartbreak there, and for a second I felt sorry for her. I shook my head. Pull yourself together, Maggie. Remember who they are. “Did you get any of the messages I left for you?”
Amanda blinked quickly, like a cat who’d been sprayed in the face with a water bottle. “No,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning down. “We didn’t, did we, David?” David shook his head. “We’ve been away . . .”
“What about your housekeeper? Did she mention that I stopped by the house?”
Amanda’s blue eyes widened. “You were in San Diego?”
I watched her face, but it didn’t register anything beyond bland surprise. “I spoke to her,” I said. “And your neighbor, too. You didn’t hear?”
She frowned. “Like I said, we’ve been away. Still, Pilar should have mentioned this . . .” She placed a hand on my forearm and her eyes clouded with concern. “I’m so sorry you went all the way there for nothing.”
I thought of the empty closet in the house in San Diego, the bare vanity table, Ally’s presence eradicated except for a single hair. The anger cut through the haze. “It wasn’t for nothing.” My voice was terse and I saw the shock register on her face, a single ripple and then the smooth surface reappeared.
Amanda squeezed my arm. “Well, I’m just glad we’re here now. We don’t want to impose—we know that this is your day—but when we heard about it, we felt like we had to come over here and pay our respects in person.”
Surprise registered through the fog. “How did you hear about it?”
“Oh, there was something in the paper about it. Someone sent us a link and we bought our plane tickets the next day.” I didn’t see how news of an event in Owl’s Creek could have made it all the way across the country, but then I remembered that Ally was public property. I hadn’t watched the news in days: I didn’t know what they were reporting. “Your daughter was very special to us,” Amanda continued. “She was a wonderful young woman. We have such wonderful memories of her, don’t we, David? She made Ben so happy. They were like two little peas in a pod.” The image of Ally swaddled in her baby blanket swam in and out of my head, fast as a minnow.
David nodded distractedly, his eyes assessing the crowd. “She was a great girl. If you’ll excuse me . . .” Amanda and I watched him stride across the field toward the buffet table. David pulled a bottle of beer from one of the garbage cans full of ice, unscrewed the top, and took a long pull.
“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Amanda said with a brittle laugh. “He hasn’t been himself since Ben’s death. It’s hit him very hard.”
I saw the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup could disguise, and the worried set of her mouth. I couldn’t deny it: this woman was suffering, and in spite of myself, I felt a swell of pity. “It’s bee
n hard on all of us,” I said quietly.
She looked at me gratefully. “It’s a beautiful memorial,” she said, gesturing around at the field. “I wanted to do something similar for Ben—something informal, you know, and welcoming—but David insisted on a private service.”
“You’ve had the funeral?” The news knocked the wind out of me. They had their son’s body. They’d had the chance to say goodbye to him one last time. I might never get that same chance. My fingers trailed to the necklace around my neck. I had so little of her. They had so much.
Amanda nodded. “Yes, on Friday. It was held in the church where Ben was baptized. Where he and Allison were meant to be—” The words caught in her throat and I could see she was struggling not to cry. “I don’t want to make a scene. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, it’s just . . . seeing all of these people here for Allison, and meeting you, well—” She started crying in earnest now, tears streaming down her cheeks, and I found myself putting an arm around her and pulling her toward me. “It’s just all so awful,” she sobbed.
I watched David walk toward us from over the top of her bent head. “We should go,” he said to Amanda. He didn’t seem to notice that his wife was crying her eyes out, or that I was comforting her.
I looked up at him, dazed. “You’ve only just got here.”
Amanda pulled away from me and wiped at the streaked mascara under her eyes. “David has some family business in Portland in the morning, so we’re going tonight.”
His face remained blank and impassive. “Well,” I said, “it was very nice of you to come all this way. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to talk more.”
Amanda gave me a small, shy smile. “Maybe we could have dinner tomorrow, if you’re free? We don’t fly back to California until Thursday, and David’s business will be finished by lunchtime tomorrow. Isn’t that right, David?” He grunted. “We could come back up here for dinner before we leave. It looks like such a charming town. I’d love to see more of it.”
It was all happening too quickly. I couldn’t process it all, couldn’t think. I willed my mind to clear. “There’s a place on Main Street called Chloe’s that’s nice. I don’t know if you like French food . . .”
“It sounds perfect. Eight o’clock?” She pressed herself against me in a hug. I could smell the faint traces of her perfume, bergamot and vanilla.
I watched them drift across the field into the parking lot, Amanda leaning heavily on David. She stumbled once and he reached out with a steadying arm and pulled her into him. She looked like a little china doll compared with him.
“How are you holding up?” Linda was standing next to me, face clouded with worry. “Shannon told me who they are. I thought about coming over, making sure you were all right, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I’m fine.” My head felt cottony and light. “They’re coming back here tomorrow. We’re going out to supper together.”
She watched me closely. She always could read me like a book. “Come on,” she said, putting an arm around me. “Let’s get you home.”
Allison
The housekeeper came most afternoons, which meant I had to get out of the house. I didn’t like the way she told me to lift my feet when she was vacuuming, or tutted when she found strands of my hair in the drain. I didn’t like the way she looked at me, like I was a visitor who had long outstayed my welcome.
So on days when she came, I made myself scarce. I went to the beach sometimes, but mainly I just drove around. Sometimes I made it as far as Carlsbad, where I’d park and watch the skateboarders clatter around the wide dome of the park, or I’d bring my sneakers and run around Lake Calavera. Once I went all the way to Los Angeles. I got close enough to see the smog lifting off the city but I turned around at the first snarl of traffic. Ben didn’t like it if I wasn’t home when he got back from work—he said he wanted to see my face as soon as he could, to wipe away the day—and I didn’t want to be late.
The truth was, it didn’t matter where I went. All of it was so much killing time. I had to keep busy, or else my mind would start to take me back to places I wanted to forget.
I drove south to Pacific Gateway Park and watched the gulls wheel in lazy circles across the sky. I tried to read the book I’d brought with me, but it couldn’t hold my attention. My mind kept pulling me back to the coffee shop, and the man’s red-rimmed eyes staring at me as he spewed lies across the table. He was crazy, I told myself. A lunatic. But every time I shoved his voice out of my head, it would come creeping back in. Relentless. Eventually I packed up and headed back, driving slowly to make sure the cleaner would be gone.
The door wasn’t locked when I got home. I pushed it open and called out to Teresa, expecting her to appear around a corner holding a dust rag and a disapproving look, but instead I heard a man’s voice coming from the back of the house. My heart caught in my throat. It wasn’t Ben.
“Hello?” Silence. I dropped my bag in the hall and headed into the kitchen. I slid a knife out of the butcher’s block with a shaking hand and held my cell phone in the other, finger hovering above the emergency button. I heard a muffled thump in the other room. “Who’s there?”
“Allison? Is that you?” Sam appeared in the doorway of Ben’s study clutching a sheaf of papers, his broad shoulders filling up the frame. He didn’t look surprised to see me. Definitely not as surprised as I was to see him. He gestured toward the knife I still held in my hand. “You planning on putting that down?”
I dropped the knife on the counter. I felt like a fool. “I— I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. Is everything okay?”
He waved the papers in the air before dropping them into his briefcase. “Ben asked me to swing by and pick up a couple of things. Work stuff.” He moved too easily for such a big man, like a dancer, or a cat. It made me uneasy.
I told myself to stop being ridiculous. Sam was Ben’s closest friend, his second in command. I’d known that he had a key to the house. It was totally normal for him to be there. “Did you want a drink or something?” I asked. Good. Act normal.
“Sure.” He settled himself on the couch, his arms looped over the back.
I hadn’t expected him to say yes. “White wine okay?”
He shook his head. “Just water for me.”
I poured two glasses of water from the Brita before changing my mind and pouring myself a glass of the good Chablis we kept in the fridge. I took a few big gulps before heading back to the living room, and by the time I sat down opposite him its warmth was already snaking its way into my bloodstream. He was wearing too much cologne, and the air was thick with orange and bergamot, like he was marking territory with his scent.
“So.” I cast around for something to say. “Everything good with you?”
“Fine, thanks. You?” He took a sip of water and placed his glass down gently on a coaster on the coffee table. He was not a man who left marks.
“Good! Great!” My voice was high and too bright. I took a swallow of wine and forced myself to smile. There’s no reason to be nervous, I reminded myself. Sam is just being friendly.
I heard Liz’s voice in my head telling me to be careful around Sam. “You might think he’s your friend,” she’d said, “but he’s not.”
“Good to hear. What were you up to this afternoon? Anything nice?”
“Not particularly. I went to the park today and read my book. I’m not that into it, though. The book, I mean.” I was gabbling. “I might stop and read something else. How about you? Are you a big reader?”
“No.” I waited for him to say more, but the silence stretched. He studied his carefully manicured fingernails. “Allison, have you been contacted by anyone recently?”
I felt the shock register on my face and took another sip of wine to hide it. “What do you mean?”
He looked at me evenly. “Has anyone been in touch with you recently—a stranger, maybe, or someone from your past?”
My head spun. Maybe he wasn’t talkin
g about the man in the coffee shop. Maybe he was talking about someone from my old life, one of the men who’d left messages on my phone late at night. The fist in my stomach tightened. “Not that I can think of,” I managed, shaking my head.
He picked up the glass again, and I noticed the whiteness of his knuckles. “Are you sure about that?” I could feel him studying me. You don’t know what he knows, I told myself, so act like there’s nothing to know.
“I think so.” I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
“You think or you know?”
I was silent. I could hear my heart thudding in my chest, and I was convinced he could, too.
There was a smile fixed on his mouth, but his eyes were hard, unreadable. “A pretty girl like you, I’m sure you get approached all the time, but I want you to think about this carefully.”
Acid built at the back of my throat and I forced myself to swallow it down. I thought back to the man in the coffee shop—was it possible that someone had seen us talking? Had there been anyone in there who looked familiar? My mind raced. All I could remember was a bunch of young mothers killing time with their babies and a few freelancers typing away on Macs. No one I knew. If I’d seen anyone, I would have turned around and left.
Sam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. His beautiful suit, I thought. It’ll crease. “You’re not in any trouble, Allison. I’m trying to look out for you here. If anyone’s bothering you, I want to know about it.”
I hesitated. The man in the coffee shop wanted to hurt Ben. He was unhinged, deranged—who knew what he was capable of? Maybe telling Sam about him was the right thing. Maybe he could protect Ben. But if Sam confronted him, he might tell Sam about my past, and Sam would tell Ben, and it would be over, all of it, and I’d be left with nothing.
I couldn’t risk it. I had to pretend I was ignorant. It was the only path to take. “No,” I said finally. “I haven’t spoken to anyone.”
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