“He’s not. Coming here,” said Jeannie. “Ever. I do not want to see him.”
“Do you want to pack some things for you and the kids and we can go up to my place for a few days?” asked Cindy. “Look, don’t start giving me a laundry list of things you don’t do and never do and won’t do. It’s fight or flight at the moment. You either stay here and face Chaz, or you grab the kids and come with me. What do you think?”
“I think I want a glass of wine,” said Jeannie. She wandered into the front sitting room and sat down on a tan leather loveseat.
Cindy walked into the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of wine and a wine opener from her oversized backpack. She wasn’t even sure her sister would have one and she sure didn’t want to go looking for it. She fetched wine glasses that were never used but still didn’t need dusting from the glass china cabinet in the dining room. She glanced at the clock, guessing the kids would be home in about an hour, allowing a little time.
Jeannie dusted imaginary crumbs from the loveseat, her thoughts racing. “I want a police officer in a uniform to explain to me what is happening here,” she said. “Law and order, that would be comforting.” But would it? What if her husband went to jail? What would she tell her kids? How would she approach Chaz with the information?
Cindy walked in carrying two glasses of wine and handed one to her sister.
They drank in silence for a few minutes, letting the information they’d found in the office in only a few minutes of searching sink in. Cindy wondered what else they’d find if they really started digging, but didn’t really even think that was necessary at this point. She wouldn’t tell her sister about the porn browser that had also been open on his screen.
“I would like to pack up some things for me and the kids and come with you and leave tonight,” said Jeannie. “I can call my failure of a husband to inform him that he needs to put his things together and get out of our house. Or who knows, maybe the cops will just come and take him away. Maybe I’ll call that lawyer.”
“I think you might need to call your own lawyer,” said Cindy. “We will get you through this. No worries.”
“Well, of course there are worries,” said Jeannie. “There are hundreds of worries…”
“Let’s face them one at a time, sis,” said Cindy. “Not all at one time.”
“Welcome to the suburban subdivision,” said Jeannie, and she sipped her organic wine. “Where there is mostly just division. Take me to your farm.”
Rachel was reeling from the scene with Maggie. How dare she march into her office and actually hit her? It was surreal it even happened. She actually thought about calling the police, but decided she didn’t need that hassle at her office and besides, it would be a she said-she said situation. She took three Adderall pills out of her desk and swallowed them dry. She would need them to get through this evening.
She wondered what the New Year’s Eve party would be like at Rocks, how her journalism coverage (as she referred to her blogging) would impact the attendance at the event. But what she felt more than anything, at the moment, was the hurt and betrayal that Kate had told Maggie she was the Keytown Mouse. How could Kate do this to her? She thought they were in love. Did their relationship mean nothing to Kate? Was Kate still so stuck on Maggie that she would ignore the last months of their happiness together?
She packed up her laptop and her purse and stormed out, passing the receptionist, mumbling something about an emergency with picking up Jacob at school.
As she pulled out of the parking lot, she dialed Kate.
“What were you thinking?” she asked as Kate answered. “Telling Maggie about my blog? How did you even know about it?”
“You like your secrets, don’t you, Rachel?” Kate answered calmly.
“You had no right…” began Rachel.
“I had no right?!” said Kate, laughing. “What about you? You had a right to stir so much shit in this town that there are police investigations and marriages falling apart and women stressing out everywhere?”
“I was only reporting the truth,” said Rachel.
“Well, you’re no CNN,” said Kate. “Hell, you’re not even Fox News. No one wants their lives splashed all over the Internet unless they’re telling their own stories. You are not telling your story. You’re spreading innuendo and rumor about people whose livelihoods and relationships could be harmed in the process. While what? You keep track of your page hit counts? It just isn’t right. Maggie deserved to know the truth. Not your brand of fake truth, but the actual truth. Maybe you can self-publish a little memoir now about your secret superhero Internet mouse identity.”
“I thought I meant something to you,” said Rachel, now crying. “I thought we were in love.”
“I can’t get over the feeling that I was just part of your reporting,” said Kate. “You never told me the truth about your identity as the blogger. You were just using me as part of the experience, because you’re bored with your husband or your job. I don’t want to be a character in your future book.”
“It wasn’t like that,” said Rachel. “I fell in love with you.”
“That’s something I’ve learned over time not to do,” said Kate. “It rarely ends well. I think right now I need to take a little break from your constant drama. Friends who are nothing but drama are never true friends because they’re too wrapped up inside their own narcissism to really care about anyone else.”
Rachel tried to speak but Kate had hung up the phone.
She pulled into her driveway in Stony Mill fighting back tears. She knew she’d have to pull it together to go in and face her husband and son as though nothing had happened. She cursed Maggie and how humiliated she’d made Rachel feel. She cursed Kate for hurting her. She cursed Kellie who always seemed to get away with doing whatever she wanted. She’d never felt so alone. She opened her glove compartment, feeling around for the blue capsules she’d stashed in a Ziploc bag there. Her hands shook as she took a half-empty water bottle from the passenger side cup holder and swallowed four more pills. She glanced at her phone, and there were no incoming text messages and one new email.
It was from Aileen. It read, “I just heard you are the Keytown Mouse? My friend at the newspaper called. They’re running a story about you tomorrow. I want to meet with you as soon as I return to town.”
Maggie, Lisa, and Eva sat drinking coffee. They had settled into comfy spots at Zoomdweebies Café, their original Scarlet Letter Society meeting place, each happy to be in the company of the others. Zarina once again opened her store at 5:30 a.m. on the first Friday of the month, once again baked fresh muffins early for them so the shop would smell of warm bananas when they’d arrived.
“Well, here we are again,” said Maggie. “Back in our clubhouse.”
“It seems like a million years ago instead of only one,” said Lisa. “I’m happy to be here.”
“I’m happy we didn’t have to read a book,” said Eva. “So I didn’t feel guilty for not reading it.”
And there was laughter.
“I don’t know how I waited this long to tell you, but I wanted to do it in person,” said Maggie. “I have some news.”
She held up her left hand.
“Holy bling,” said Eva. “It’s gorgeous! And you’re going to be a blushing virgin bride…again!”
Maggie laughed. “Well, I’m not going to wear white at my age!”
“Congratulations, Maggie!” exclaimed Lisa. “Oh, it is so lovely. And I’m so happy for you!”
“I’m happy too, girls,” said Maggie. “Thanksgiving night Dave proposed—again!—at our table with the girls and Erica’s boyfriend, Al, there. It was really sweet.”
“I don’t remember what your first engagement ring looked like six or seven husbands ago when you were married to Dave the first time, but I feel like this one is a little nicer,” said Eva. “Not to sound materialistic…but hello cushion-cut two carats from Tiffany!”
“How did you know all that?” asked Ma
ggie, astounded.
“Oh, I don’t really,” said Eva. “But I’ve seen some engagement rings over the years at the law firm, and I know a Tiffany platinum setting when I see one.”
“I have never received the famous blue box,” said Lisa.
“My first one,” said Maggie. “And no doubt last!”
“Yes, you’re going to be all done getting married after this, right?” asked Eva. “Because there really isn’t even such a thing as an upgrade on that hardware!”
“Or that husband!” said Maggie. “I’m really happy.”
“Do you have wedding plans?” asked Lisa.
“Oh hell no,” said Maggie. “Haven’t even thought about it!”
“You should think about having the wedding on the island,” said Eva. “Sharps Island Inn is the most beautiful place. You can see both the sunrise and the sunset from that one spot. The photos would be gorgeous.”
“I’d love to bring Dave down to spend a weekend there so we can check that spot out!” said Maggie. “Great idea. And I’d like to ask the two of you if you’d honor me by picking out the two most hideous vintage bridesmaid dresses in my shop and being my bridesmaids!”
“Sounds like a dream,” said Eva with a laugh as she rolled her eyes. “Ugly bridesmaids dresses over age forty. Hooray!”
Lisa laughed too. “I think it sounds like a blast—I’d love to!”
“It’s all settled then,” said Maggie. “In the meantime, let’s talk about what’s going on with you two.”
“I went out for coffee with Ben,” said Lisa. A blush started to creep to her cheeks. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel guilty about it or something, but I don’t.”
“Why should you feel guilty?” asked Maggie. “Your foot-fetish husband, who was screwing a stripper, is dead. You’re allowed to move on with your life.”
“It’s not too soon,” said Eva. “And you and Ben shared a pretty natural connection that you had deliberately chosen not to escalate only because of your marriage. That chain is gone now.”
“It was really nice,” said Lisa. “I ended up telling him about how I’d lied to you two to get my membership into the Scarlet Letter Society. He thought the covered-bridge sex story I told you was so funny. We met at the diner because…” She had lowered her voice as though admitting not having coffee at Zoomdweebies was a sin.
“Because privacy?” said Maggie. “The last thing you need is the paparazzi coming around here and putting your get-together in the paper.”
“Or on the Internet,” said Eva.
“The damn Keytown Mouse,” said Lisa.
“I found out who it is,” said Maggie. “It’s Rachel. Kate told me.”
“What?!” asked Lisa incredulously. “My own neighbor at both home and work! I should’ve known. She is so nosy.”
“I don’t think she’s going to be nosy anymore,” said Maggie. “I had some words with her. Well, mostly I spoke and then she didn’t because I had slapped her so hard.”
“You didn’t,” said Eva.
“I did,” said Maggie. “Was worried I’d have to call you for some legal help there for a second.”
“Oh, I could make a judge rule it was justifiable,” said Eva. “Because suddenly I’m your Jerry Springer lawyer again—ha! I wish I’d been there to slap her with you. We could line up with weapons like in that scene in Airplane.”
“Excellent use of random ’eighties reference,” said Maggie.
“I learned from the best,” said Eva.
“What happened then?” asked Lisa.
“Not much,” said Maggie. “I sort of went off on her and then slapped her and left. Oh, then I made a call to her bitch of a boss, Aileen. Thought she might be interested to know Rachel was editing her little rag during work time.”
“She did publish a post about the New Year’s Eve toga party at the swinger club in your neighborhood, Lisa,” said Eva, having just Googled the Keytown Mouse. “No new posts, though. Good riddance, bitch.”
Zarina walked in to warm up the ladies’ coffees with a fresh pot. “I haven’t seen Rachel in here lately, and I’m not expecting to!”
“I hope not. So Lisa, do you have something to wear to that toga party?” asked Maggie. “I could probably pull something together for you from the shop.”
“Very funny,” said Lisa. “No, I don’t have a rock in my driveway so I don’t think I’m allowed to go. Which reminds me—I have a contract on the house.”
“That is so great,” said Eva. “In this market it could really have taken a while, so you’re lucky!”
“Your lease on my apartment is good as long as you need it!” said Maggie.
“It’s so great to be able to walk to work,” said Lisa. “I love living downtown.”
“Lisa actually bundles up that kitten and takes her to work in a basket,” Maggie told Eva. “Like Toto in The Wizard of Oz. You believe that?”
“Aw, I think it’s adorable,” said Eva. “Your little friend Brûlée!”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without her these last months,” said Lisa. “Best gift I’ve ever gotten—can’t thank you enough.”
“So you and Ben have plans to meet again?” asked Maggie.
“Actually we are having dinner on Christmas Eve,” said Lisa. “We talked about how it can be the loneliest night of the year and he asked if I’d like to have dinner. He doesn’t see his son, Max, until Christmas Day. I am looking forward to that.”
“That sounds really lovely,” said Eva. “I actually had a similar discussion with my friend Nathan and we were talking about having a Christmas Eve oyster dinner together too for pretty much the same reason. I see my boys on Christmas. No fun to be alone the night before.”
“Friend?” said Maggie. “The strapping young gorgeous waterman hasn’t been given any type of title upgrade since then?”
“What are you, the new Keytown Mouse?” asked Eva slyly.
Maggie narrowed her eyes at Eva.
“Who needs titles?” said Eva. “We’re both just happy spending time together.”
“Will I sound like the Keytown Mouse too if I ask you about Charles?” asked Lisa.
“I haven’t been in New York much at all,” said Eva. “After I told them I’d be spending more time working at home and from DC, there hasn’t been too much of a reason to go back. I’m really doing more consulting work than anything now. Bossing around the junior partners. It’s not a bad gig.”
“That sounds like a perfect arrangement,” said Maggie. “I guess it’s not like you’ll be practicing law on Matthew’s Island anytime soon so consulting makes sense.”
“Actually I am doing some pro bono work for the watermen,” said Eva. “Versus the state of Maryland, whose Department of Natural Resources seems bound and determined to make their lives more miserable than it already is while they try to do their jobs and supply the seafood we all love to eat.”
“Pro bono?” asked Maggie. “That’s a new phrase for your vocabulary, yeah?”
“Well, yes, it probably is,” said Eva. “I like working for a cause instead of working to make rich corporations richer. It’s a nice change.”
“Good for you, Eva,” said Lisa. “We all have to do what makes us happy.”
“I am glad we’re all headed for happiness,” said Maggie. “And as for the Scarlet Letter Society, well, it doesn’t seem like any of us is even close to being eligible for membership anymore.”
“You don’t have to actively be cheating on someone to be a member of that club,” said Eva. “What’s your Hawthorne quote from all those invites? The scarlet letter is our passport into regions other women dared not tread.”
“Yes,” said Maggie. “Once a member, forever an honorary member. Lisa, you kissed Ben while you were still married to shoe boy, so that’s close enough.”
“I’m glad!” said Lisa. “After all those lies I had to tell pretending to be a member.”
“That hypocrite of a Keytown Mouse acted
like we had something to be ashamed of,” said Maggie, “not to mention how the prima donna princess of Stony Mill Jeannie would agree with her. But you know what? There’s no shame in wearing the scarlet letter. There’s no shame in being human.”
“Hear, hear!” said Eva.
“Agreed,” said Lisa.
Christmas Eve arrived, and Lisa wasn’t sure what to wear. She rifled through the small closet Maggie had cleared out for her. Most of her things were still in storage, and the clothes she’d brought had been meant for work at the bakery, not dinner with handsome graphic designers.
At first, she selected a plain pair of black pants and as she laid them on the bed, she smiled, thinking, Of course I can just go downstairs and find something to wear there. Maggie was home with her family, but Lisa had the key to the shop. She was sure Maggie wouldn’t mind if she just ran in and grabbed a dress. She checked the time on her phone and hurried down the narrow staircase. She smiled at the faint squeak of the iron hardware on Maggie’s shingle. The signboard read “Wings Vintage Clothing” and Lisa couldn’t help but think it was perfect. She was ready to fly.
She entered the store, deciding she’d stay only briefly since it was freezing. After locking the door and flipping on the light, she went straight to the vintage dresses rack, choosing three to try on, and quickly turned off the lights, exiting and locking the store and returning upstairs. The second one she tried on, a red ’50s ballerina-length dress with a Peter Pan collar, two rows of front buttons, and a cinched waist, fit her perfectly. She spun like a little girl, watching as the pleated dress puffed up. The neckline plunged just enough. She worried briefly it would be too formal, but with a pair of black patent leather Mary Janes, she decided the outfit was perfect for a holiday dinner at that fancy celebrity chef restaurant in town.
Next she found a gorgeous brown faux fur long coat in Maggie’s coat closet, again wondering if it was too fancy. Better overdressed than underdressed, her mother had always said. Lisa was thankful her mother had insisted on having proper makeup application techniques taught to her at a fancy department store near her hometown in Delaware. Though she never wore makeup as part of her “real life,” she always had some ready for such an occasion. Hearing her mother’s voice in her head, Lisa had taken the dress off first before applying the understated makeup. You don’t want that powder all over the dress.
The Scarlet Letter Scandal Page 17