by Gail Cleare
“To Mom’s place. She’s… unlisted.”
“Um… what?”
“Mom’s place—you heard me right.”
“Really…?”
“Tell you the whole story when you get here,” Nell said. “Don’t say anything to anybody in the meantime. Now, go get on that plane, okay?”
“All right, if you say so. Sounds very intriguing, I must say.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Fascinating, I can’t wait to hear the rest.”
“You will. Just get yourself up here.”
“Any good-looking men in this story?” Bridget’s voice had become lighter, more playful. The Southern accent was creeping back in again too. Nell could tell she was covering up her emotions with this familiar disguise, the flirtatious party girl. It was like putting on armor.
“Bridget. My God, let’s get rid of the last one before you start that again.”
“Just asking. Sorry. I can’t help it. Well, are there?”
“Yes. Father and son, both apparently single.”
“You don’t say. Well then, I’ll be up on the next flight.” Bridget laughed. “Text you when I land.”
Nell pushed the off button and smiled at the phone.
Well, it was about time Bridget knew what was going on. Finding out about Mom’s secret life would be a shocker for her too. Nell wanted to share the worry. She hadn’t seen much of her sister in the past decade or so, but their bond was as strong as ever. The gap between visits was Nell’s doing. The drama that followed Bridget around like a shadow just didn’t belong in Nell’s world, and she didn’t want her family upset by too much exposure to the hysterical side of the Reilly clan.
Still, for all that Bridget made her nuts, she also comforted Nell as no one else could. Almost like another mother. Being hugged by Bridget was like coming home and plugging in for an emotional recharge of unconditional love. Nell hadn’t had that feeling in a long time. She missed her sister.
Her eyes teared up, and her throat tightened. She pulled out one of the tissues she’d taken to keeping stuffed up her sleeve and wiped her eyes.
It would be good for Bridget to be safe and have a chance to work out her plans. And not a bad idea for Nell to have someone else in the house that night when Adam Bascomb brought Winston home. For the first time in memory, Nell was the sister who might need a chaperone, alone with a strange man.
Mixed with her relief was just a little disappointment.
Chapter 15
Bridget ~ 2014
Bridget turned onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway and drove south along the Potomac River toward National Airport. She had plenty of time before her plane boarded. The radio said flights were being delayed by a hurricane heading toward the coast, so she might even be stuck for a while. When she saw the exit for Arlington, she turned off without questioning the impulse and took the turns that led to her husband’s office. The least she owed Eric was a farewell. According to her lawyer, he owed her a lot more.
It seemed smart to end their relationship with a power move. That kind of thing impressed him. Bridget wanted to confront him in person. A clean parting of the ways, with as little emotion as possible, would be ideal. When she came back home to live her life in Georgetown after however long, she didn’t want him to hassle her. But if he did give her any trouble, she would go after him for stealing her share of mutual assets and forging her signature on the mortgage papers. She knew a good bodyguard in case the dispute got ugly. But Eric was just a bully, a coward at heart. At the moment, the element of surprise was hopefully on her side.
Bridget parked outside the sleek glass-and-steel cube where Eric’s offices were located on the top floor. Leaving her jacket in the car, she smoothed the dark-purple silk sheath over her hips, putting Lulu into a big handbag with her head peeking out the top. Bridget smiled at the doorman and took the elevator up. The doors opened on a sleek chrome-and-glass lobby with a large reception area and a mahogany corridor leading to the executive offices.
Eric’s secretary, Barbara, adored the poodle and always made a huge fuss over her. As Bridget and Lulu entered the office, she rose from her desk, cooing and making kissing sounds.
“Is he in?” Bridget motioned toward Eric’s door with a nod. She handed Lulu to Barbara, who barely restrained a squeal of joy.
“Yes, and he’s alone. Why don’t I play with this little cutie while you talk? We like to play chase the paper ball. Don’t we?” Barbara talked to Lulu in a high baby voice, and the dog loved it.
“Thanks. I’ll just show myself in. A little surprise.” Bridget went over to her husband’s office door.
The secretary nodded, already totally distracted. Bridget hesitated for a second then put her hand on the knob and walked inside without knocking.
Eric clearly wasn’t expecting that. He stood in the adjoining bathroom with the door ajar and in plain sight, bent over in the process of snorting some kind of white powder off the countertop. Probably cocaine, his current go-to anesthesia.
She took advantage of the chance to slip behind his chrome-and-glass desk and sit in his big leather chair. She leaned back and propped up her feet, which looked fabulous in the sexy dark-purple strappy heels. Her legs looked great too. Eat your heart out, you fool. She sent psychic daggers in his direction. Crossing her arms, Bridget waited.
When Eric came out of the bathroom, wiping his nose, he saw her and jumped, swearing. He glared at her suspiciously, but she just laughed.
“What’re you doing here?” He was staring at her legs, probably trying to look up her skirt. That was good. He was distracted. Score one point for Bridget.
“Thought I’d stop in for a visit. Why, something wrong with that?”
His eyes narrowed, and he began to circle around the desk like a wolf stalking a rabbit. “I heard from my daughter a few minutes ago. She told me the most ridiculous story.” Score one point for Eric. She’d been hoping Heather hadn’t called him right away.
“Oh?” Bridget held very still as he walked behind her, out of her range of vision. Then he reappeared on her other side, coming close to lean against the edge of the desk. His large, muscular presence loomed over her. Second point for Eric.
“Are you leaving me, Bridget? Is that what you’re here to say?”
She raised her eyes and looked straight at him. “Right now, I’m going to take care of my mother and Nell. When I come back, I’ll be living in Georgetown. Alone. You know as well as I do that it’s over, Eric.”
He stared at her. “No discussion? No counseling, no working things out?” His face started getting red, as anger edged into his tone. Eric rubbed his fists together, cracking the knuckles. The sound made her cringe.
“If you wanted to work things out,” she said, “you should have asked me to sign the mortgage papers instead of forging my signature. Did you get one of your buddies to notarize it? Did you pay him with coke?”
He raised his eyebrows then quickly hid his reaction. So he hadn’t thought she knew about the mortgage. Another point for Bridget.
“And if you wanted a discussion”—Bridget stood up to meet him eye to eye—“we should have talked about what you were going to do with all the money you took out of our accounts, don’t you think?”
Eric glared at her, his face surly and hands fisted. “So you know about it. So what? You’re just a stupid bitch anyhow, Bridget. What are you going to do about it, go cry to your decrepit old mother and your OCD sister? You’re pathetic, you know that?”
She went around the desk and walked to the door, feeling more confident with every step and happy to know that he was checking out her ass. She stopped and turned for her parting shot. She had earned it.
“I was going to kiss you good-bye.” Bridget blew him a kiss. “But I wouldn’t want to catch somet
hing nasty.”
Before he could answer, she whipped out the door and closed it, stealing the last word—for that round, anyhow.
She picked up Lulu from her enthusiastic babysitter and hotfooted it out to the car, hoping Eric wouldn’t pursue her. Probably shouldn’t have let loose with that last shot, she thought while driving back to the parkway. Getting him too angry could have dire consequences. She just couldn’t help it, though. Life didn’t offer many chances to send off a zinger and make a clean exit.
Bridget turned up the radio and sang along with it. An exhilarating sense of freedom expanded within her. The fear she had been denying began to relax its clenched vigilance, and with that came the urge to tremble. Her hands shook as she grasped the steering wheel and watched for signs to the airport exit.
She pulled into long-term parking and found a good spot near the terminal entrance. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and the hysterical giggles had turned to sobs as she grabbed a handful of tissues and filled them with a tiny percentage of her pain and disappointment. Her marriages all started out well, but she couldn’t seem to sustain them over the long haul. She always picked the wrong guy. It wasn’t their fault—it was hers. There was something wrong with the way she related to men, and that fact kept coming back to haunt her. The shrink she went to after her second divorce said it had to do with feeling rejected by her father. She realized that was probably true, but knowing it didn’t interrupt the pattern.
When she was done crying, she felt much better. Bridget fixed her makeup and gathered her things, locking the car. She rolled her suitcase into the terminal, carrying Lulu in her purse. When they got to the correct terminal, she went straight to the ladies’ room and changed into jeans, T-shirt, boots, and a leather jacket. She gave Lulu some water and checked to make sure her ticket confirmation said she was traveling with a pet. Small enough to fit under the seat, Lulu’s carrier qualified as carry-on luggage, and she could ride in the cabin.
“Beautiful dress.” A dark-haired woman with a melodic foreign accent was waiting with a bucket and sponges to clean the sinks. She motioned toward the eggplant silk, lying in a heap on top of Bridget’s suitcase.
“You want it? I’ll never wear it again. I was going to throw it in the trash,” Bridget said.
“You sure? No, is too good for trash. Very pretty.” The woman picked up the dress and held it against herself. It looked like a reasonable fit.
“Definitely.” Bridget handed her the matching jacket and shoes. “That dress is bad juju for me. Bad memories.”
The woman nodded, sage and sure. “A man?”
Bridget met her eyes, and they connected. The impromptu meeting of the Global Sisterhood came to order.
“Yes. A bad man.”
“I will take dress. Maybe it get new lover for me. Then something happy will break the bad destino.”
“I certainly hope so.” Bridget smiled at her. Then she shivered, crossed herself, and wheeled her bag out into the hallway to find the gate that would lead to whatever was coming next.
Chapter 16
Mary ~ 2002
Mary Reilly carefully unpinned the wide-brimmed black hat. She lifted it off her head and laid it in the tissue paper that lined the waiting hatbox. Her “funeral hat,” Thomas used to call it. For ten years, she had nursed him through the ravages and indignity of Alzheimer’s disease, and that day, she had worn the black hat to her husband’s funeral.
Appropriate headgear for the solemn occasion, it was made of heavy brushed felt with a velvet ribbon, a jet beaded band, and a few discreet feathers tufted on the left side. The front was embellished with a little hint of black veil. Nothing too dramatic, just formal enough to show respect. She packed it away and slid the box up onto the top shelf of the coat closet, hoping she would never have to wear it again.
Mary stopped in front of the hallway mirror to smooth her lipstick with a finger. The house was full of people. Nell and Bridget were supervising things in the kitchen, where most of the women had gathered with their casseroles and wineglasses. The bridge-club ladies were getting a buffet set up in the dining room. David was in the living room, serving beers and Irish whiskey. Moving on down the hallway, Mary saw the den was full of kids of various ages. When she lingered in the doorway and held out her arms, Ben toddled toward her, and she picked him up.
Odd, how happy she felt now that it was finally over. The feeling wasn’t denial. It was sheer joy.
She suppressed an involuntary grin, sniffing the magical clean-baby scent of her grandson’s neck and feeling the comfort of her friends all around her, an envelope of love that warmed her like a hug.
The service was attended by all the family, innumerable close friends, and the most prominent members of the local business community. Thomas would have been pleased. Wherever he was, he was smiling.
Mary chose to believe that after his death, Thomas had returned to his original rational state. For the past several years, she could only talk to him in her imagination. The body that looked like Thomas hadn’t housed his true self for quite some time, so there had been no use talking out loud to it. Mary looked forward to easier communication with his spirit now that the body was out of the way—even easier than when his mind and body were still one and healthy, because after he had met God, she felt sure he had attained a much better understanding of what it was to be human.
Mary carried Ben into the kitchen and put him in his high chair. Nell swept in with a bib and sippy cup, sliding a plastic dish of macaroni and cheese in front of him. The three-year-old’s big blue eyes widened, and he gulped from the cup while a neighbor sat down and took up the spoon to feed him.
“You go on and talk to your friends,” she said to Mary with a shooing motion.
Suddenly, David was at Mary’s elbow with a gin and tonic in his hand. “Mom? Is this good, or would you prefer wine?”
Mary smiled at her young son-in-law. Nell always made such good choices. They were a well-matched couple, smart and attractive. He was in an executive training program with a good company in New York, on a career path headed straight for the top. She was comforted to know her youngest daughter would always be safe and happy.
“Lovely. Thank you, dear.” Mary took the drink and kissed David on the cheek. He held her hand for a moment then squeezed it and headed back toward the low rumble of male conversation and the scent of burning tobacco.
Mary sipped her drink and listened to voices filling the rooms where she had lived with Thomas for most of their marriage. Where they’d hosted birthday parties, Christmas dinners, book club meetings, and poker nights. Where the girls had been babies, grown up, become women, and moved on. Where she had loved her husband more than anything in the world when they were young and idealistic and didn’t really know each other. Before things had changed.
Thomas Reilly’s plane had gone down on a bombing mission when he’d only been in Vietnam a few months. When Mary heard he’d been found and was being flown to an army hospital stateside, she reacted with joy, but by then her life had changed so drastically that at first she didn’t know what to do.
Mary had taken the diamond engagement ring out of her jewelry box and worn it to the hospital when she went to visit him after her tour of duty was over. When she saw the smiling Irishman again, she made the decision to keep wearing it. They were married in the Catholic Church a year later and lived with his parents while they looked for a place of their own.
Then they found this house. Four bedrooms upstairs and three full bathrooms. Perfect for a family of five or six. They planned on filling the place up with kids. Bridget was born two years later then Nell three years after that. But the babies stopped coming, and Thomas never got the son he had hoped for. He loved his girls, and they idolized him, but Mary knew he was disappointed. It gnawed at her and filled her mind when she couldn’t sleep at night.
&n
bsp; Maybe she should have handled things differently. Mary had never felt she could tell Thomas her secret thoughts or longings. She was sure they would all be forbidden. The laughing Irishman became a stern man with a bad temper. Thomas was a pillar of the business community who demanded that his family always present a proper image to the world in general and their hometown in particular. He would never have condoned Mary’s behavior had he known everything. It was so much easier just to not talk about it.
Mary looked up as Bridget came over and sat next to her at the kitchen table. The young woman had a glass of wine in her hand and wore a gorgeous black designer dress with a low-cut back.
“Hi, Mom, how are you doing?”
“I’m just dandy, actually. It’s good to know your father is at peace.” Mary reached for her daughter’s hand. “How are you, sweet pea?” She searched her daughter’s eyes, so easy to read.
“Me too. We can remember him however we want to now. He can’t stop us.” Bridget smiled, and Mary laughed.
“He’d try if he could.”
“Mom, we were talking. Me and Nell and David.”
“About me?”
Bridget nodded. “Have you thought about the house?”
Mary looked around at her home again, feeling the weight of it hanging on her like chains. She thought of her cottage in Vermont, where she’d been spending a lot of weekends. Being able to escape had helped her get through what she had to do in caring for Thomas. She loved her getaway spot and the friends there who had supported her over the past ten years.
“I can’t live here anymore, honey,” Mary said. “But it must hold such memories for you girls. I hate to take that away if you’re not ready.”
“It’s okay, Mom. We have our own homes now. And we both want you to know that if you’re interested in living with one of us…”
Mary interrupted. “No, dear, I do thank you for the thought. I’m nowhere near ready for that yet.”