For Better and Worse

by Margot Hunt

  But one look at Jaime—her eyebrows arched up, her arms crossed—and I knew that wouldn’t go over at all.

  “Sure,” I said. “Lunch sounds good.”

  * * *

  Jaime and I arrived at the Lime Tree Café at a little after one. It was a small restaurant with white tablecloths, distressed wood floors and abstract modern paintings in primary colors hanging on the exposed brick walls. The lunch crowd had already thinned out, so we were able to grab a table in the corner, which offered some privacy. Jaime ordered a glass of chardonnay.

  “I’ll have one, too,” I said to our very earnest waiter, who looked like he should still be in high school. “Actually, wait, no. I’ll have a gin and tonic. Tanqueray, if you have it.”

  “Of course, sir.” The waiter nodded and hurried off to get our drinks.

  “You never drink at lunch,” Jaime commented.

  “I thought now was a good time to start.”

  “What’s going on? You haven’t seemed like yourself for the past week or so.”

  “Actually...” I began, but then stopped. If I was going to end this, it probably didn’t make any sense to do it at the beginning of lunch. And before I’d consumed at least one alcoholic drink. Maybe two. I’ll wait until we got the bill and are nearly ready to leave, I thought. That will minimize the awkwardness. So instead, I said, “The principal at my son’s school died. The police are investigating it.”

  “Oh, right, I heard about that.”

  “Two detectives came to interview Nat and me about it on Saturday.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re interviewing quite a few of the parents from the school. Pretty much anyone whose kid might have been alone with Robert at any point.”

  “Charlie’s okay, right?”

  I couldn’t tell Jaime about Robert molesting Charlie. Not now. Actually, not before, either. I had been in a moral free fall lately—adultery and murder were just a few of the sins I’d racked up. But violating Charlie’s privacy was a line I could not, and would not, cross.

  “He’s fine. That’s not the problem. The police asked Nat and me to give them alibis for where we were on Friday night.”

  “Oh!” Jaime said. She frowned, suddenly realizing what this meant. “Oh. And I suppose you couldn’t tell them you were with me.”

  “No, I did tell them you were there. But I said Ben and Alex were with us. Nat was there when they asked me. I told her we took out a candidate interviewing with the firm.”

  “Do Ben and Alex know you used their names?”

  “No. I should talk to them, I guess, but Jesus...what am I supposed to say? ‘Jaime and I are having an affair, so if you could cover for me with the police, that would be great.’”

  “I see your point.”

  The waiter arrived with our drinks. Jaime paused as he set them down in front of us.

  “Would you like to hear the specials?” the waiter asked.

  “Not really,” I said.

  To make up for my rudeness, Jaime bestowed on the waiter her most charming smile. “I think we’ll need a few more minutes before we’re ready to order.”

  “Of course, take your time,” the waiter said, giving me a nervous glance before hurrying away.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Jaime asked.

  “Nothing. But I’m going to get a club sandwich, and you always get the kale salad. Did you really need to hear the specials?”

  “No, but you’re not usually such a bear to waiters. Give the poor kid a break.”

  Jesus fucking Christ, I thought. “I’ll try to be nicer.”

  “Anyway. I can’t believe you lied to the police. That’s seriously not good.”

  Oily terror twisted in my stomach. “I know.”

  “How are you going to fix it?”

  “I don’t know. Right now I’m hoping that the police aren’t going to check my alibi.”

  “They may not.” Jaime lifted one shoulder. “But if they do ask me, I’ll just tell them the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you were with me. I’m your alibi, or at least I am until whatever time you ran out on me that night.”

  “Sorry. Again.”

  “It’s fine. Actually, we should order. I have a client coming in at two thirty.”

  Jaime waved down our cherubic-faced waiter. He hustled over. Jaime ordered her salad the way she always did, requesting multiple substitutions. I tersely ordered my club sandwich. “Yes, everything on it. Fries on the side.”

  “So.” Once the waiter had left, Jaime nudged my calf with the toe of her shoe. “Where were we?”

  “My alibi.”

  “Oh, right.” Jaime took a sip of her wine. “Jesus. I can talk to the police, if you want.”

  I considered this. “What would you tell them?”

  “That we’re having an affair.” Jaime said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And that you only said Ben and Alex were with us because you didn’t want your wife to find out what you were really doing. It’s a pretty easy explanation, actually.”

  “But what if this gets out? You and me, I mean?” I rattled the ice cubes in my gin and tonic and considered this. Nat always told me that the police were gossips. Using my affair with Jaime as an alibi would certainly be a juicy story in our small town. Then again, if I was going to get caught for something, an affair was better than murder. “You’d be okay with that?”

  “Actually, that’s why I wanted to have lunch with you today. I have some news of my own. I told Thomas over the weekend that I want a divorce.”

  “You did?” I asked blankly. I knew from the slight tightening of Jaime’s lips that this was not the response she’d been hoping for. “Wow, that’s big news. Huge. How did he take it?”

  “He wasn’t as upset as I thought he’d be. Maybe it’s something he’s been thinking about, too.” Jaime’s lips curved up into a smile. “Maybe I’m not the only one who’s met someone else.”

  “Oh.” I another took a long drink from my gin and tonic, surprised when the ice cubes collided with my teeth. It was gone already? I looked for our waiter. Once I caught his eye, rotated my finger in the air to signal I wanted another round.

  “So, what do you think?” Jaime pressed.

  “If it’s what you want, then I think it’s great.”

  Jaime’s eyes narrowed slightly. I knew immediately that I’d made a misstep. She wanted me to be thrilled that she was finally free, as if that were the only obstacle to our being together. I again wondered what mattered to her more—being with me or being able to think of herself as irresistible.

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  “No, I do think it’s great. It’s a positive step for you. I know you’ve been unhappy with Thomas for awhile now.”

  “I thought you might think it’s a positive step for us.”

  Our waiter stopped by with my drink. “Your entrées will be out shortly.”

  “Great, thanks,” I said. The waiter nodded, and hurried away.

  “But obviously you don’t.” Jaime’s tone had become petulant. “Which is a little surprising. It’s not like we haven’t talked about this. At length.”

  That just wasn’t true. Jaime had brought up the two of us having a future together a few times, but it was always when we were in the middle of having sex. I’d been a little distracted when she did this and mostly thought it was just a fun fantasy.

  “Jaime.” I reached over and rested my hand briefly on hers. “You know I care about you. A lot. But it’s different for me. I have Charlie to think about.”

  “Kids are more resilient than you think,” she retorted. “Look at Kirsten. Her father and I divorced when she was three and she’s fabulous. Couldn’t be better. Besides, you wouldn’t be leaving Charlie, you’d be leaving Natalie. Florida is a fi
fty-fifty custody state. You’ll still have a lot of time with Charlie.”

  I took another long drink, soothed by the numbness of the gin. I didn’t know what would happen with my marriage, especially if Nat found out about my affair with Jaime. But I couldn’t leave Charlie. Not now. The last thing that kid needed on top of everything else that had happened to him was for his parents to split up.

  “It’s just not a good time right now,” I said cautiously. “Charlie’s going through some stuff.”

  Jaime’s eyebrows arched up again. I could tell she thought I was bullshitting her. “What kind of stuff?”

  “You know. Typical for his age. Hormones and all of that,” I fudged. “Look, I don’t really want to get into the details. But trust me...this isn’t a good time to drop a bomb into his life.”

  “Trust you?” Jaime gave me a long, level look. “It sounds like you’re making excuses.”

  “I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

  “Oh, is that what this is?” Jaime twirled a pointed finger down at the table. “Honesty?”

  I stared at her, taking in her wounded anger, and tried to think of something to say.

  “Jaime, I can’t leave my family right now,” I said quietly.

  The waiter arrived with our food. He set down Jaime’s salad and my club sandwich and then looked eagerly at us.

  “Can I get you anything else right now?” the waiter asked.

  “We’re fine,” Jaime said flatly.

  I looked at my already empty second glass, but decided that a third gin and tonic would be pushing it. I really had to get some work done that afternoon.

  Jaime waited for the waiter to scurry away before leaning forward, her voice lowered. “Is there a point in the future when you do plan to leave your wife? Because I was under the impression that whatever this is between us was more than a casual fling.”

  “It was. I mean, it is. Of course it is.”

  “Okay. Good. But...are you ever going to end your marriage?”

  My marriage. I thought about Nat and how far we’d drifted from one another. How we’d slowly lost our passion, then even our friendship. And that was just the normal, humdrum bad stuff. That was before I’d made the chilling discovery that the woman I’d married fourteen years earlier, with the long wavy hair and naive idealism, had turned into a woman who could plan and execute a murder. Except that she hadn’t completed the job...she’d gotten me to do it. Moreover, Nat had witnessed me killing Robert.

  Leaving her right now, under those circumstances, did not seem like a wise decision. Even for me, who excelled at bad decision making.

  “I can’t leave Nat right now. I don’t know...maybe in six months or a year. Things may change.”

  Jaime’s expression turned cold and she nodded briskly. She picked up her fork to spear lettuce on it.

  “So, what do you want me to tell the police?” she asked.

  I hesitated, startled by this non sequitur. “Tell them the truth. You and I were together that night. Alone.”

  Jaime looked up at me, her brown eyes challenging mine. “Should I mention the part where your wife called you and you hightailed it out of the restaurant with barely a word to me?”

  I stared back at her. Was that a threat? Had she possibly guessed what Nat and I had done? No, no way. No one would ever make the leap that either one of us would have anything to do with Robert’s death.

  Not unless they knew what Robert had done to Charlie.

  But Jaime didn’t know. She was just angry that I hadn’t reacted to the news that she’d left Thomas with more joy, with declarations that I’d do anything to be with her. She didn’t suspect anything more...did she?

  No, I told myself. Stop it. Between the stress and the alcohol, you’re becoming irrational.

  “You can tell the police that if you want to,” I said carefully. “But under the circumstances, I think maybe it would be better if you didn’t mention it. It might make the police suspicious.”

  “Huh,” Jaime said. “Interesting.”

  I picked up my sandwich, then put it back down. My appetite had disappeared.

  “Is everything still okay?” Our eager waiter had appeared tableside again, ever hopeful to provide good service.

  “I’ll have another one of these,” I said, holding up my glass.

  * * *

  I was already regretting the third gin and tonic when I pulled into our driveway after work. The buzz had worn off and morphed into an early-evening hangover. I wondered blearily what was for dinner. Hopefully something that involved carbohydrates that would absorb any alcohol still in my system. I hadn’t been able to choke down more than a quarter of my club sandwich at lunch, not while Jaime was silently sitting there, chewing resentfully on her salad.

  “I’m home,” I said walking in the front door.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” Nat called out.

  “You would not believe the day I had,” I said as I set my briefcase down by the front door, then instantly regretted speaking. Where was I going with that? Was I going to tell Nat about how stressful it had been dealing with my mistress who was pressuring me to get a divorce? I shook my head, peeled off my jacket and threw it over the back of a club chair.

  “We have company.” Nat’s voice was measured, contained. I stopped and looked up, my heart suddenly pounding as if I’d just gotten a shot of adrenaline. Were the police back? Was this the beginning of the end?

  I walked back to the kitchen, bracing myself for what I’d find there. But it wasn’t the police.

  Venetia Gibbons was sitting with Nat at our kitchen table.

  Chapter 26

  There were an open bottle of white wine and two half-empty glasses on the table. I was surprised that Nat hadn’t put a coaster beneath the bottle, which was sweating onto the bleached oak tabletop. She was normally fastidious about such things.

  “Hey, you,” Venetia said, standing. She was short, with blond hair that feathered back from her face. She had gained weight since I’d last seen her, although she was trying to disguise it underneath a voluminous hot-pink tunic and black stretchy pants. Her face was full and fleshier than it used to be, and her eyes were puffy.

  “Venetia. Hi.” I walked over to the table. Venetia gave me a quick hug. I caught a scent of her perfume mixed with cigarette smoke. I kissed her on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “It’s been a difficult week.” Venetia gave a wan smile. “It was hard hearing about Robert. Even though we were divorced, he was a big part of my life for a very long time.”

  I glanced at Nat, who smiled enigmatically at me. A smile that could have meant anything from, Be nice to Vee, she’s been through a lot to She’s fucking onto us, give nothing away.

  I wondered when I had stopped being able to interpret my wife’s pointed looks.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Vee.”

  “Thank you.” Venetia smiled at the old nickname. “I couldn’t believe it when the police called me.”

  I went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of beer and twisted the top off. “You live in Oregon now, right?”

  “Yes, Portland. I own a pottery studio.”

  “Oh, like an art gallery?” I asked, sitting down at the table with them.

  “No, the kind where people bring their kids in to paint mugs and bowls and things.”

  “There’s one here in town,” Nat said. “Charlie used to love going there when he was little.”

  “Isn’t he still little?” Venetia asked.

  “No, he’s almost as tall as I am.” Nat laughed. “It happens fast. One day they’re sweet little babies, and the next thing you know they’re preteens asking for new tablets for Christmas.”

  “Where is Charlie?” I asked.

  “He went to Jack’s house after school,” Nat said. “They invited him to
stay for dinner.”

  I nodded and felt my shoulders relax a little. I was pretty sure Charlie wouldn’t remember Venetia—it had been years since he’d last seen her—but I didn’t want him to draw the connection between her and Robert.

  “What did the police say when they called you?” Nat leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Did they ask you to fly in?”

  Venetia shook her head. “No, I came on my own. Robert’s parents are dead. He doesn’t have any other family.” She shrugged. “There’s only me. I thought I should come and deal with...well, the funeral and everything else that needs to be dealt with.”

  “You’re having a funeral?” I asked, my tone sharper than I’d intended.

  “Of course.” Venetia looked at me quizzically. “Why wouldn’t there be one?”

  Because he was a fucking monster, I wanted to say. Because no one should waste a second grieving for that man.

  “Do the police have any leads?” Nat smoothly directed the conversation back on course.

  “Well.” Venetia hesitated. “Not that they told me about.”

  “Believe it or not, considering how fast the word usually spreads in Shoreham, we haven’t heard much,” Nat said. “It’s all been kept really hush-hush.”

  Venetia looked nervously down at her wineglass, her fingers tapping against the stem.

  “Well...there is something. I probably shouldn’t say anything, but... I may need your help with something, Nat. It’s why I came over to see you.”

  “Of course,” Nat said. “I’ll help however I can.”

  “I think I may need legal advice,” Venetia clarified. She looked up from her wineglass and met Nat’s gaze. “I may be in trouble. I’m not entirely sure what to do.”

  I’d been off my game lately. The day-drinking certainly wasn’t helping. But I realized that I had failed to notice a rather significant fact. Venetia was terrified. Her eyes were large and too wide open, and underscored by dark smudges. When she lifted her wineglass to her lips, I could see that her hands were shaking slightly.