“You guys know Tabby,” Connor said.
“Tabby, what uuup,” Robbie said, slurring as he closed his phone.
He sounded drunk, or high.
“I need the room,” Connor said.
Robbie got up, yanking on Punk’s leg where it hung off the bed.
“You heard the man. Move it, dudes,” he said.
The younger boys followed Robbie out, poking each other and grinning. Connor shut the door and took me by the hands, drawing me down onto the lower bunk on the opposite side of the room. It must be his bed. It was narrow and lumpy, with a green wool blanket that felt scratchy against my skin as he undressed me. But I loved being in the place he slept each night, and I adored the way he looked at me.
“Your body is unreal. I’m crazy for you, you know that, right?” he said.
The bed squeaked like crazy as we made love. I heard giggling coming from the other side of the door.
We didn’t get caught that night. Therefore, naturally—despite the obvious dangers of hooking up in his grandmother’s house—we did it again the next night, and the night after that, until it became a habit. Three or four nights a week, I’d sneak out. Connor would pick me up at the end of my street. We’d get to his house late, when it was dark and quiet, and sneak up the back stairs. I never ran into Nell Ford.
Never—until I did.
All the Ford kids knew about our rendezvous, and I’d been worried that someone would snitch. Connor claimed that could never happen. All the cousins were guilty of something. Knowing each other’s secrets created mutual assured destruction. But we hadn’t reckoned with the effect of Connor’s feud with his middle sister, Chloe. What had gone wrong between them, I didn’t fully understand, though I knew it had something to do with the parents’ divorce. One night, out of the blue, Chloe decided to tell.
We were lying under the scratchy blanket when Mrs. Ford pounded on the bedroom door.
“Connor, open up. Have you got a girl in there?”
“Shit, it’s my grandmother,” he said, under his breath.
We jumped up and pulled our clothes on. I started to speak, but he shook his head and put a finger to his lips, nodding toward the door.
“Coming right out, Grandmother. One second.”
Nell Ford couldn’t wait. She threw the door open and caught us half-dressed. I had my shorts and bra on but not my top. Connor was just stepping into his jeans. He stumbled and nearly toppled over.
“Wait a minute, Grandmother. Stay out.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. This is my house. So. You’re Jean Parker’s granddaughter? What does your grandmother think of your behavior?”
Connor looked stricken. “Tabby is my friend.”
She looked me up and down, her face puckering with distaste.
“Apparently, quite a close friend.”
“I’ll take her home.”
“She can get herself home. You and I need to talk, young man.”
“But—”
“Sit down. And you, please leave my house. Now.”
I looked at Connor. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He sat down on the bed and hung his head. I walked out, past the grandmother, down the stairs. Robbie was sitting on the screen porch. I borrowed his phone to call Grandma Jean to come get me.
When she pulled up fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on the front steps, dry-eyed in the dark. Connor hadn’t come looking for me. But Nell Ford must’ve been watching from the window. As I walked down the driveway, the front door flew open, and she rushed past me, bearing down on my poor grandmother.
“Jean Parker, I need a word with you.”
Grandma Jean got out of the car and met her with shoulders squared. They had it out right there on the front lawn, loud enough to wake the neighbors. Grandma Jean stood up for me, and told Mrs. Ford to look after her grandchildren, who everybody knew ran wild all over town. It was hardly a fair fight. The next day, I was let go from the club. Grandma Jean got an official reprimand in her file for inappropriate conduct toward a member. Later that year, when layoffs came, the blot on her record gave them an excuse to fire her. As for Connor, he called the next day to apologize. When I wouldn’t come to the phone, he kept calling, until he gave up and wrote me a letter. When I didn’t answer that, he wrote again. I burned the letters unopened. Eventually, he stopped writing.
I didn’t see him again until he walked into the Baldwin Grill on Memorial Day weekend, thirteen years later.
6
TABITHA
Memorial Day weekend, present day
Those eyes.
I felt dizzy. I had to grab the back of the empty chair across from him to steady myself. I took a breath. Connor looked shocked. Then he looked transported. His cheeks flushed, his eyes widened, he shook his head slightly. He broke into a huge grin. That sparkling, ravishing smile that I’d never managed to forget, hard as I tried.
“Tabby. It’s you, right? How incredible to find you here,” he said, and laughed out loud.
Connor’s smile was as beautiful and carefree as I remembered—white teeth, crinkles around the eyes, a dimple in his cheek. He had the sort of smile that makes a young girl fall in love. Or a grown woman. All I know is, my stomach fluttered the way it had the very first time I saw him. Which scared me. Every time I saw his picture online, it threw me for days. What would a real-life encounter do to me?
I was speechless, and my silence confused him.
“Wait, you do remember me?” he said, looking worried.
“I’m just—shocked.”
“You scared me there for a minute. I thought maybe you forgot.”
“Never.”
The silence lengthened as we gazed at each other.
“You look amazing,” he said.
“You look even better. Marriage agrees with you, I guess.”
“You know about that?”
“The whole world knows, Connor. You’re famous.”
“She’s famous. I’m just Mr. Nina Levitt.”
I nodded at the empty seat across the table from his. “Would you prefer to wait for her to place your drink order?”
“Huh?”
Only then did his gaze take in my white shirt and black pants—the typical waitstaff uniform—and the pitcher of water in my hand.
“You work here.”
“I do,” I said, in as cool a tone as I could muster.
My cheeks felt hot as I filled his water glass. We’d never been equals. But now the gap between us was wider than ever.
“Can I start you with a cocktail? Or, would you prefer to wait for your wife?”
It was his turn to flush. “She’s not coming. This is a solo trip.”
“All right, then. What can I get you to drink?”
“Uh, Hendrick’s and tonic?”
“Certainly.”
“Hey, no, wait. Can we start over? Please, sit down for a few minutes. I’d love to catch up.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not possible when I’m working.”
“Quickly, then—give me the basics.”
He touched the empty spot on my left ring finger where my hand clutched the chair back.
“You’re not married, I see,” he said.
The way my body reacted to his touch—that unnerved me. I took a step back.
“I was. I’m divorced.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Me, neither. It’s funny, whenever I think about you—”
He paused. My heart skipped a beat.
“You think about me?”
“I envision you with a minivan full of kids. You always wanted a big family.”
“I was an only, remember? I wanted what I never had. Your family seemed so jolly.”
“Jolly, no. We were crazy.”
“Hah, you said it, not me. Still, I was jealous. I remember you wanted kids, too.”
We’d talked about that, once, lying in the grass out on the golf course under a sky full of stars. Not how many k
ids we each wanted, but how many we would have together. Boys, girls, what we’d name them.
“I’m so glad you’re still here at Baldwin Lake,” he said.
“That makes one of us.”
“Otherwise, I never would have found you.”
He gazed up at me intently. The moment seemed to stretch out in time. Back to the past, off to the future, like we were picking up where we’d left off. But that wasn’t possible.
“I, um. I have tables waiting. I’ll be back with your cocktail.”
I turned and walked away, hurrying to the bar where my friend Matt was on duty.
Matt looked like a biker, with a shaved head, a bushy beard, and sleeve tattoos, but he was the kindest soul I knew. He noticed me and came over.
“It’s crazy out there tonight. Holding up okay?” he asked.
“Ugh. An ex showed up and knocked the wind out of me.”
“Not Derek?” Matt asked, looking alarmed. “I thought you said he moved to Florida.”
Derek was my ex-husband.
“He did, thank God. No, this is someone I dated years ago.”
“Is he bothering you?”
“Just making me sad. I was crazy about him, and it didn’t end well. Now he’s rich as God, and I’m old and pathetic.”
“Old? What are you, like, twenty-two?” he said.
I noticed he didn’t dispute the second half of my statement.
Matt slapped a shot glass down in front of me and poured out a finger of expensive tequila. “This is good for what ails you.”
I wasn’t a big drinker, but if I didn’t take the edge off my feelings, I wouldn’t get through the night. I knocked the shot back.
“Another.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
“This guy broke my heart, Matt.”
He refilled the glass. The second shot did the trick. A comforting layer of gauze dropped over the room. I placed the drink order and went off to the kitchen to collect waiting entrees.
By the time I got around to delivering Connor’s drink, I was surprised to see that a woman had joined him at his table. She was pretty, with shiny dark hair, wearing a flowy dress. They leaned toward each other, talking intently. She definitely was not his wife, whose picture I’d seen many times. Nina Levitt was older than this woman and had famously red hair. The flame-haired Nina Levitt, or “Titian-haired,” they said in the press. Titian was an artist who liked to paint pictures of women with red hair. I knew this because I’d looked it up. He was before Nina’s time or else I’m sure he would’ve painted her.
I was too busy to dwell on this mystery woman, however, and too proud to admit that I cared. I took their order like I didn’t even know him. Other than shooting me an intense look, he didn’t acknowledge me, either, or attempt to introduce me to her. The evening passed in a blur, helped along by the tequila. I was back and forth to Connor’s table in between serving other customers. Before I knew it, two hours had passed, and he was alone. I brought him the check, and he handed me one of those Amex black cards. Titanium, cool to the touch. I’d never seen one before. They were like an urban legend. No credit limit, and you couldn’t apply for one. Amex had to decide you were worthy.
“Is this for real? I thought only, like, Beyoncé and Saudi princes had these.”
“It’s real.”
“I didn’t think you had room to come up in the world, Connor Ford, but I was wrong.”
He gave a harsh laugh.
When I came back ten minutes later with the slip for him to sign, the woman hadn’t reappeared.
“What happened to your girlfriend?”
A worried look came into his eyes. “Not a girlfriend. Just a business associate.”
“Guess I won’t sell her picture to the tabloids, then.”
My tone was light enough to convey that I was just razzing him. But Connor didn’t get the joke. He went deathly pale and grabbed my wrist.
“Tell me you didn’t take any photos tonight.”
“Hey.”
I jerked my hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this is important.”
“I was teasing, because you’re famous now. It was a joke, okay? Jeez.”
I rubbed my wrist.
“You don’t understand. I’m under a lot of pressure. If you took a photo—”
“I said I didn’t.”
“Can you just— I know this sounds crazy, but can I see your phone? Just to check.”
“Seriously?”
He stared back at me, looking almost ill. He wasn’t joking.
“Fine. Here. Go through my photos if that’ll make you feel better.”
I took my phone from my pocket and opened my photos. Connor grabbed the phone from my hand and scrolled frantically. After a minute, he breathed out, handing the phone back to me.
“Okay?” I said.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a jackass. If you knew my situation—”
“I get it. You have people taking advantage of you on a daily basis. You and I haven’t seen each other in years, so for all you know, I could be the type who’d make a buck selling your picture. I’m not. Please, accept my apology, and allow me to comp your drinks.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
“No, Tabby, really. I’m sorry, I overreacted. I don’t want it to be like that between us.”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re strangers. A waitress and a customer.”
He was looking at me with those eyes, and I felt their power. I needed to put a stop to this before he broke my heart all over again. Given the presence of the attractive brunette, he was probably already cheating. A player, despite his protestations.
“Listen, it was nice seeing you. I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Wait. No.”
He sounded almost desperate.
“Let me make it up to you. Buy you a drink?”
“I’m working.”
“Afterwards, then.”
“It’s dead around the lake at night. By the time I get off work, everything will be closed.”
“I know somewhere we can go, just to talk. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself. It’s a gift to run into you out of the blue. I can’t let it end with me blowing it like this.”
His eyes were pleading. It was unnerving how upset he’d gotten over a dumb joke. But on the other hand, he was Connor, and he was right. It was a miracle, running into each other after all these years. In a sense, the damage was already done. He’d wormed his way into my head, my heart, all over again. If I passed up the chance to have a drink with him, I’d regret it.
Besides, it was just a drink. Right?
“Please, Tabby,” he said.
Nobody else ever called me that, before or since. I looked into his eyes. I put my hand momentarily on his shoulder. I didn’t have the willpower to refuse.
“Just one drink?” I said.
“If that’s all you have time for.”
“Okay. I get off at eleven.”
His smile lit the room.
“I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done.”
7
I finished my shift at eleven and stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. The only cars that remained belonged to me and my coworkers. No Connor.
Disappointment hit me like a slap. That’s how messed up I was over him already. I should be glad that he’d decided not to show. After all, what good could possibly come of us having a drink together? Fighting tears, and mad at myself for it, I got out my keys and headed for my old Toyota. Just as I pointed the key fob at the door, that black sports car came roaring into the lot and screeched to a halt beside me. Connor lowered the window.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was worried you’d be gone.”
I didn’t ask where he’d been, since that was none of my business. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. The sports car was
sleek and sinuous and low to the ground, like something Tom Cruise would drive in a spy movie. I looked back at my old rust bucket, then over at his car, and thought, What’s wrong with this picture? What did he want with me after all these years? He was married to a famous beauty, a woman who traveled on helicopters and yachts, draped in diamonds. Was it because I’d seen him with that brunette? Maybe he wasn’t satisfied that I’d been joking? Maybe he was even upset. The thought made me uneasy.
“Should we just talk here?” I said.
“In the parking lot? That’s not a good idea. I’m staying at a friend’s ski house. It’s a ten-minute drive from here, with a great view. He stocks the best liquor. We can talk without worrying about who’s watching.”
Right. He was famous, and married, and I’d already rattled him by joking about selling a picture. He didn’t need paparazzi photographing him with a woman. Not just the woman from the restaurant. Any woman. Me.
“It would mean so much to me to catch up. Please, Tabby?”
He leaned on the please so winningly. That dazzling grin, that honeyed voice, the square jaw, the beautiful eyes. I knew this was bad for me. But if I could spend an hour with him, just talking, catching up, I’d have memories that would last for years. I nodded, and Connor pushed open the passenger door.
Sinking into the fragrant leather seat, I gawked at the intricate instrument panel and the lovely grain of the wood on the dashboard.
“This car is awesome. What is it?”
“Lamborghini. A gift from my wife,” he said, and his voice tightened when he mentioned her.
“I hope you wrote a nice thank-you note,” I said.
He hit the gas, and the car leaped forward. We zoomed out of the lot onto the road that led away from the lake, racing past the old country club, the defunct golf course, the ski resort with its lodge and lifts shuttered for the off-season. Everything was closed, deserted, locked up tight. He turned onto the narrow road that wound up Baldwin Mountain.
“I have to confess,” Connor said, his eyes on the road, “I was surprised to see you there tonight.”
“You were surprised? Imagine my reaction. Connor Ford at frumpy old Baldwin Lake? The place has gone downhill, big-time. And your family sold their house ages ago.”
“Yeah, after my grandmother died. How did you know?”
The Wife Who Knew Too Much Page 3