For Better and Worse

by Margot Hunt

I nodded and turned the car off. My mother, Lindy, had heard us arrive and stepped out on her front porch, shielded from the rain by the overhang.

  “Gram!” Charlie hopped out of the car and rushed toward her. My mother opened her arms and wrapped them around her grandson. I moved slower to get out, putting up an umbrella so I could retrieve Charlie’s small suitcase from the back without getting drenched.

  It had always surprised me that my mother had turned into such a doting grandmother. Lindy had always seemed irritated by motherhood. She wasn’t neglectful—I was always fed and clothed and driven around to various activities. But she never took any noticeable pleasure in spending time with me or my older brother, Patrick. We were always something that had to be dealt with, often with a sigh and aggrieved comment, before Lindy could get away to the tennis club and luncheons that filled her days. Our father, Hal—who passed away shortly after Charlie was born—had been the affectionate one, the parent who had taken more delight in his children.

  Patrick now lived in California with his sweet-natured wife, Anna, and their two daughters. Once, on one of the rare occasions when Patrick returned to Florida for a visit, he and I had sat out on my mother’s poolside patio that overlooked a canal. Patrick had stared out over the water, the sky ribboned orange and pink, and said, “Do you know she never went to a single one of my basketball games? Dad went all the time, but Mom didn’t go to a single one. And I didn’t even think it was weird at the time. It’s only now, when I spend every weekend running around to the girls’ soccer games and softball games and cross-country races that it finally struck me how odd that was.”

  “It was a different time,” I offered. “I don’t think there was as much pressure on parents to be so involved back then.”

  “Maybe.” Patrick shrugged and took a long sip from his bottle of beer. “But I remember the other mothers being there in the stands.”

  In stark contrast, Lindy really did seem to delight in spending time with Charlie. She invited him to stay with her once a month. She always had a list of activities planned whenever he came to visit her. They’d go to the putting green, play board games and bake cookies together.

  “Hi, Mom.” I wheeled Charlie’s suitcase up to the house, sloshing through the puddles on her tile-paved driveway.

  “Natalie.” Lindy gave me a cool kiss on the cheek. My mother, as always, had her hair set in a lacquered blond bob impervious to the gusts of wind. Her face was immaculately made up complete with eye shadow, contouring blush and lipstick. “Isn’t this weather terrible? Come in out of the rain.”

  I shook out my umbrella and left it beside the front door. Lindy’s house smelled like cinnamon room freshener and Joy perfume, the scents of my childhood.

  “I can’t stay long. The traffic was terrible coming down. It took me over an hour to get here.”

  “I was wondering what was taking you so long. I expected you here ages ago,” Lindy said. She turned to Charlie, and a smile softened her face. “Go look in your bedroom, sweetheart. I got you a present.”

  Charlie whooped and ran off to the guest room. Once he was out of earshot, I said, “Let me know if Charlie seems upset this weekend.”

  “Why would he be upset? He loves staying with me.”

  “I know, he’s just...been going through a bit of a tough time right now. So let me know if you see anything that concerns you.”

  “Why?” Lindy looked at my sharply. “What happened?”

  Charlie came running back in then, sparing me from having to dodge Lindy’s questions.

  “Look what Gram got me!” Charlie held up a rectangular box that contained an overpriced video game he’d been obsessed with ever since playing it at a friend’s house.

  “Wow.” I admired the box. “What do you say?”

  “Thanks, Gram!” Charlie hugged his grandmother again. He looked so happy, so normal, I could feel tears filling my eyes again.

  Damn it, I thought, turning away before either of them could see me. I had never been outwardly emotional, but over the past few days, I couldn’t seem to stop weeping. It was a normal response to the horror of what had happened to Charlie, I supposed, but I had to keep it together for his sake.

  “I’m going to get going,” I said. “Come give me a hug.”

  Charlie was so distracted by the longed-for video game, he didn’t seem to notice my reaction and hugged me perfunctorily. I tried to tell myself that this was a good thing. If he’d been uncharacteristically clingy, it would have worried me.

  Still, I could feel my mother’s sharp eyes on me. It was inconvenient that she would choose that moment to drop the narcissism she normally wrapped herself up in.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I answered over my shoulder.

  “Do you have plans for the weekend?” Lindy asked as she trailed me to the front door.

  “Just errands,” I said. “I have a few things I need to take care of.”

  “Well, try to take some time off, too. You and Will should go out to dinner. It’s important to spend time together as a couple.”

  I don’t know what surprised me more—the marital advice or how unusually caring her voice was.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I looked back into her house, to where Charlie was sitting in the middle of the floor, ripping open the box to get to the game inside. “Take care of my boy.”

  “I always do,” Lindy said, her tone again tart.

  * * *

  When I arrived back home, Will’s car wasn’t there. I parked in our driveway and checked my phone. Will had sent a text thirty minutes earlier saying he was going out for drinks after work with a few of the lawyers in his firm. On any other evening, this would have irritated me. Tonight, I considered it a stroke of good luck, as it meant I didn’t have to make up an excuse for why I was going to be out of the house.

  I went into the house and, after greeting Rocket and letting him outside, I began my preparations. I had thought I’d be nervous, but once my organizational skills kicked in, I felt only a sense of calm purpose. I took out everything I’d need and set it on the kitchen table. The sandwich bag containing the ground-up oxycodone. The bottle of Blanton’s bourbon. A pair of plastic gloves. A package of cleansing wipes. The burner phone and tablet, which I planned on destroying and discarding after it was all over. I put everything except for the bourbon in my purse, then tucked the bag of oxycodone in my pocket. I retrieved my smartphone from my bag and hid it in one of the kitchen drawers with the ringer off, just in case Will beat me home and wondered why I’d left it behind.

  I was ready.

  I let Rocket back in the house, fed him and checked the clock. It was just after six thirty. It was time. I drew in a deep breath to steady myself and headed for the front door. I glanced out the window and saw Gloria D’Angelo walk by with her black Lab. I waited for them to pass. I doubted any of my neighbors closely monitored my comings and goings, but I thought it was safer not to talk to anyone, to draw attention to my leaving. Once Gloria had passed by, I let myself out, locking the door behind me.

  I got into the car, started it and was just turning to rummage through my bag to check one final time that I had everything I needed when a loud rap on my car window caused me to start and let out a yelp.

  I turned to see my next-door neighbor Janice Green standing there, smiling widely at me. She was wearing a hot-pink velour tracksuit and bright orange lipstick that had smeared onto her front teeth. Janice waved. I rolled down my window.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you!” Janice trilled.

  I laughed weakly. “No, it’s okay. I must have been in my own little world.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  I stared at her for what might have been a beat too long. “What? Oh, sorry. I’m just heading to the grocery store.”

  “Well, I just wanted to let yo
u know that one of your side sprinklers is broken. It turned itself on after you’d all left this morning and ran forever. Don came over and switched it off on the main box, but you’ll probably have to get Will to look at it. If you don’t get it fixed, your water bill will be sky-high!”

  “That was nice of him. Please thank Don, and thank you for letting me know,” I said. I didn’t add that I was more than capable of resetting our sprinklers and didn’t need to ask Will to do it for me. Janice was twenty years older than me. In her world, men were the ones who took care of everything yard-related.

  “Say hi to that handsome husband of yours for me!”

  I smiled. “Will do. Thanks again.”

  She waved, turned and picked across the lawn back to her house. I sat there for a few minutes, wondering whether this was a serious wrinkle in my plan. If the police ever questioned her, Janice might remember seeing me leave this evening. But how likely was that, really? If everything went according to plan tonight, the police wouldn’t even be investigating Robert’s death as a murder. And even if Janice had seen me leave, so what? Why shouldn’t I be going to the grocery store at six thirty in the evening?

  No, I needed to take care of this tonight. There wouldn’t be a better time. Charlie was safely away at my mother’s; Will was out getting drunk with his coworkers. Most important, Robert wasn’t yet under arrest...or released from suspicion. And I was fairly sure that he would be at home, not wanting to risk going out anywhere where he could run into a school parent.

  I pulled out of my driveway and headed west. I hadn’t been to Robert’s house in years, not since the last time Will and I had been invited there to have dinner with Robert and Venetia, but I remembered the way clearly. I drove over a bridge, down a main thoroughfare and past a series of gated subdivisions until I was finally at the edge of town. Here, the houses were spaced apart, often by several acres. I passed by a nursery with palm trees for sale, a horse farm and a dog kennel that advertised spacious, air-conditioned runs.

  I took a right on Hibiscus Street, which stretched forward for miles through undeveloped land. It was so remote that if it had been late and dark, and I were lost, it might have creeped me out. For my purposes the isolation was welcome, since there was no one to see as I pulled into the driveway in front of Robert’s one-story home. It was a good thing the press hadn’t found out about the allegations against Robert. If the story had broken, there might have been reporters staked out in front of the house. Yet another break in my favor.

  I turned my car off and took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. My hands were shaking, so I squeezed them into fists, then flexed my fingers, trying to relax them. I had to get a handle on my emotions. The only way I would ever be able to pull this off would be by remaining calm and clearheaded.

  But how was I supposed to stay cool when I was about to face the monster who had irrevocably and deeply hurt my son?

  “Get it together, Nat,” I whispered.

  I took a few deep breaths until I felt my nerves steady, then reached back to grab my handbag and the bottle of bourbon.

  It was time.

  I was going to have to face Robert and convince him that I was his friend.

  And once I did that, I was going to kill the bastard.

  Chapter 16

  Despite my vibrating nerves and the breath sticking painfully in my chest, my first thought when Robert opened the door was that he didn’t look like a monster.

  Robert Gibbons was tall with broad shoulders and the beginnings of a paunch. He had thinning sandy hair, blandly handsome features and brown eyes that I once would have described as kind. He looked like an average dad or soccer coach or dentist. It was terrifying to consider how many evil people were out there, walking around freely, wearing perfectly ordinary, benign faces.

  “Nat.” He stood at the door, looking cautiously out at me. “What are you doing here?”

  My pulse had ticked up, my heart pounding so hard, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Robert could hear it. And he was standing so close to me, just a few short steps away. Before all of this happened, before this man hurt my son, I had always thought of myself as a peaceful, nonviolent person. Now there was something dark lurking inside me that wanted to hit him, bite him, hurt him.

  But if I was going to protect my son and who knew how many other children, I had to swallow my wrath and affect a mask of sympathy and friendship. I had to find a way to smile at this man right up until the moment he was dead.

  “Hey, Robert. I thought you could use a friend.” I held up the bottle of bourbon. “And a drink. Not necessarily in that order.”

  Robert hesitated. I watched as he weighed the likelihood of my knowing what he’d done to Charlie. Could Charlie have told me? But if so, why hadn’t I gone to the police? And then his eyes drifted to the bourbon, and the ghost of a smile appeared. “Blanton’s. That’s my favorite.”

  “I remember.”

  He stepped aside, gestured for me to enter. I was glad I had sprung for the expensive stuff.

  “It’s good to see a friendly face,” Robert said, closing the door behind me. “I’ve been a bit lonely out here on my own.”

  “I can imagine. Actually, that’s not true. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” I set my handbag down on a glass-topped console table next to the front door. “But I think I have some idea. I’ve represented clients who’ve been indicted for similar offenses.”

  “About that.” Robert began, then paused. “I was going to call you...to hire you to represent me...but I didn’t think...” He stopped again, and shook his head.

  He didn’t think it would be a great idea to hire the mother of one of his victims to defend him, I finished silently.

  “Don’t worry. If you had called me, I would have referred you to another attorney, anyway,” I assured him. “Who’d you hire?”

  “Paul Gasparino. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. He’s pretty good. Not as good as me.” I laughed. “I’m kidding. Paul’s great.”

  “I just wasn’t sure I should hire a friend,” Robert said awkwardly.

  “You haven’t been charged yet, have you?”

  I knew very well that he hadn’t. If he had been charged, he would have been arrested immediately. His name would have appeared on the report the clerk’s office put out every day. Besides, if that had already happened, there was almost no chance Robert would have qualified for bail. Accused child molesters never did. However, I didn’t want Robert to know I was monitoring his arrest status. It would make him defensive.

  He shook his head and looked like he was feeling nauseated. “Not yet. Hopefully, not ever.”

  “Anyway, it’s important that you’d be frank with your attorney. That’s hard when you’re preexisting friends,” I continued. This, too, was bullshit. I had occasionally represented acquaintances over the years and it had never been a problem. Usually they just appreciated the discount I’d give them on my services.

  But Robert nodded and looked relieved that he hadn’t caused offense by not hiring me. This from the man who had sexually abused my son. Fury flared up, pressing hotly in my chest.

  “So come on in. Let’s crack that bottle open.”

  “Point me toward your glasses. I’ll pour.”

  I followed Robert into the large central room, which still bore the signs of Venetia’s influence. She would have been the one who picked out the white slip-covered sofas and bright turquoise throw pillows, the sisal rugs, the beach-inspired paintings of palm trees and flamingos on the walls. The paintings reminded me of how much Venetia had loved going to the arts and crafts fairs that were held nearly every weekend during the winter tourist season. She’d talked me into going with her once. I had watched her browse happily through displays of dream catchers and beaded jewelry, while I feigned enthusiasm. I wondered how Venetia was doing so far away from the F
loridian beach culture she had thrived in.

  And then I wondered what had driven her away.

  Robert veered left into the kitchen. I stopped short at the doorway and blinked at the tower of dirty dishes in the sink, pizza boxes piled on the oak kitchen table and open chip bags littering the counter.

  “I probably should have cleaned up a little.” He looked around helplessly. “I’m not normally such a slob, it’s just...”

  “It’s been a hard week,” I finished. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

  Robert smiled weakly. “I hope I have some clean glasses.”

  He rummaged through a cupboard and pulled out two crystal lowball glasses that I suspected might have been a long-ago wedding gift. He set the glasses on the counter while I broke the seal on the bottle of bourbon. Before I poured, I looked up at Robert. “Do you have any crackers? I haven’t eaten much today, and this will go right to my head if I don’t have something to nibble on.”

  “Oh, right.” Robert looked momentarily confused. “I think I have something in the pantry. Hold on.” He headed off to the small walk-in pantry just off the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight, I yanked the baggie out of my pocket, dumped half the powder inside one rocks glass and then poured a large slug of bourbon in after it. I used my finger to quickly stir the powder into the deep brown liquid. The powder wasn’t fully dissolving—and it suddenly occurred to me that I should have done a test run at home—but it also wasn’t noticeable, unless you looked closely. I set the glass on the counter, poured another for myself and was tucking the baggie back into my pocket when Robert finally emerged from the pantry. He held up a bag of chips.

  “I have some crackers, but I think they’ve been open for awhile, because they taste stale. Are tortilla chips okay?” Robert stopped and looked around as if his own kitchen confused him. “I might have some salsa somewhere.”

  “The refrigerator?” I suggested.

  “Maybe.” But he took my suggestion and rummaged through the fridge, emerging with a large jar of salsa. He poured the salsa and chips into respective bowls, then nodded toward the living room. “Shall we go sit down?”