Underwater

by McDermott, Julia

  She planned to wear a clingy short black dress tonight and to take a thin cardigan along in her bag. Not to cover her shoulder, though—she was over that. The sweater would be needed just in case it got cool outside later tonight, as it often did here. Her dress had spaghetti straps and it flattered her figure, one that didn’t look like she’d ever had a baby. She might not even wear the SlimZ underneath—she wasn’t sure she needed to.

  When she met John back in February, she’d been ten pounds heavier, but had lost almost all of her pregnancy weight. They’d gone out for coffee at first, then lunch, then to a concert. He hadn’t wanted to rush things, and neither had she. He had adored Adele from the moment he met her. When he and Helen became physically intimate, which was a recent event, he didn’t react when he saw her scar. He accepted it as part of who she was, something unique and uncommon, not imperfect.

  She leaned toward the mirror over her dresser and examined it. Funny how the scar had once troubled her so much, had even defined her self-image. Now it didn’t. It still branded her, but as no more of a mark than if she’d had red hair or freckles. She was happy to be who she was—all of who she was.

  When the authorities delved deep into her private life after Monty’s death, they had questioned her about it. Perhaps they had wondered if Monty had caused it, or if she would say he had. Of course, she’d told the truth: that it was the result of a childhood accident. The only physical marks that Monty had left on her were much more recent.

  Everything became more intense a few days later, when the police recovered Monty’s iPhone. The cleaners found it, and after a call to Rachel Benton, identified its owner and turned it in to law enforcement. The information it provided to police pointed to a possible motive for murder: Monty was cheating on his wife and was hiding funds.

  The nightmare that had followed felt unreal. At the time, Helen was afraid it would never end. But she had lived through it and had survived. She studied her face in the mirror, then stood up straight and stretched her arms back behind her. She’d had a long day and a long week at the office working on multiple projects. Her upper back and shoulders were a little achy from spending hours at the computer. It was just after six p.m. and she was looking forward to that first glass of wine.

  Thank God others had confirmed her account of her life with Monty and had accurately described how malicious and depraved he was. Dawn, Candace, Rob, and David had all come forward to the police with details of Monty’s behavior and had provided emails he had written. The tangle of lies he had told his wife and his sister about the house on Arcadia Lane began to unravel. Rachel Benton didn’t defend her lover and wanted nothing to do with his family. By Thanksgiving, all the evidence indicated that Helen killed her husband purely in self-defense as he attempted to strangle her in the bathtub. To murder her.

  She and Adele had driven up north that weekend and had never looked back. The little girl had missed her father at first, but as time passed, she had accepted his absence.

  They had stayed with Dawn and Frank for the next six weeks until Helen found this apartment. During that time, Arcadia sold for slightly under a million one, and Monty’s condominium sold for over six hundred thousand. The Carawans’ debts to Candace and to the bank were paid in full, and Candace didn’t have to write off a loss. Helen had felt bad that she couldn’t repay the amounts Candace had gifted the family, but her sister-in-law assured her that gifts were gifts, no strings attached and no repayment necessary.

  She heard her phone buzz, turned, and picked it up.

  “John?”

  “Hey. I know we said seven, but if you’re almost ready, I can come now. If that’s okay?”

  “Well—”

  “I just—I can’t wait to see you.” He sounded breathless.

  Helen smiled. “Then come on. We can have a drink here first if you like.”

  “I’m almost there. See you in a few.”

  Candace Chandler entered her Manhattan apartment and began to rifle through the day’s mail lying on a table.

  “Hello, love,” Rob called from the kitchen. “How was your day?”

  “Delightful,” said Candace, not looking up. “My goodness. Did you see this invitation from Jess?”

  Rob walked into the room and stopped next to his wife. “Yes, I believe so.”

  Candace turned and looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. “An August wedding in Atlanta! It’s going to be so hot and humid then. What were they thinking?”

  “Perhaps that it would be easier for relatives with school-age children to attend.”

  “I suppose so. Though early June would have been much nicer. And I could have had a drink.”

  Rob smiled. “It’s just for nine months. Or eight, now.”

  Candace gave a weak smile. “I hope I can do this mothering thing. I certainly have my doubts.”

  “You’ll not just do it, darling, you’ll excel at it. Have no fear.” He reached an arm around her and pulled her to him, kissing her. “We’ll be wonderful parents, I’m certain of it.”

  After a second, Candace pushed back and placed her hands on his upper arms. “I hope you’re right, Rob. I mean, I know we made the right decision. And even though I’m glad our baby is on the way, I’m apprehensive.”

  “That’s natural. I feel somewhat the same.”

  “Do you?”

  Rob reached around and pulled his wife closer. “Of course. But you’ll see. Life is a wonderful thing, and as you said, we’d both regret it if we had decided not to take the plunge.”

  She gave him a tender look and slid her hands up on his shoulders. “You are so good for me.”

  “And you, for me.”

  She stroked his cheek, then stepped back and out of his arms. “But, practically speaking now. We have a lot of planning to do for the baby, and things are busy as ever right now. I’m so glad I found Lydia.”

  “So she’s working out well?”

  Candace cocked her head. “Very well. She’s everything Jess was, and then some.”

  “Older, wiser, more mature?”

  Candace laughed, turned, and slipped off her high heels. “Definitely more mature. Only three years older, but much savvier.”

  Rob turned, picked up the pieces of mail, and placed them in a stack on the table. “How’s Jess doing in design?”

  “Swimmingly,” said Candace, throwing him a look. “Paula says she’s eager to please.”

  “Well, that’s a happy ending then. Or, beginning.”

  “Yes,” said Candace. She stepped toward the kitchen. “She’ll learn a lot working under Lucy on the new maternity SwimZ line.”

  “Good. If it’s half as successful as the rest—”

  “It will be, at least. I’m convinced of it.”

  Rob looked over at her. “Your confidence has always been alluring. Even sexy, I dare say.”

  “Well,” Candace said while turning around, her eyes dancing. “SwimZ made a huge splash in the stores last winter and spring, just in time for the season. Despite all the issues of the fall.”

  “And your stock price has been soaring ever since. You absolutely murdered your competition. Sorry. Bad choice of words. Forgive me.”

  “Pshaw, Rob. I mean, let’s don’t deny it—Monty did try to kill Helen. He was guilty of attempted murder. But I never thought she was responsible for his death. If anyone was, it was me. I should have gotten her to get a restraining order or something.”

  “I doubt you could have done that. Until that night, he hadn’t committed a crime.”

  “Yes, well, he was dangerous, and I knew it. Perhaps—”

  “My love,” said Rob as he walked toward her. “It’s tragic that he’s gone, but you’re not to blame. Neither you nor Helen was responsible for what happened to him. He was. I’m just glad that Helen protected herself that night, and that she and Adele are doin
g well now.”

  “Yes. The thing is, there’s a part of me that’s—well, that’s relieved he’s gone. That’s so terrible to say, or even to think.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re allowed to feel that way. Look at what he put you through. What he put his wife and child through.”

  “I know. I can’t help but wonder, though, if it could all have been prevented, if I had just given him what he wanted. Which I could have done.”

  “I don’t think it would have, not in the end, anyway. It might only have prolonged Helen’s agony, and yours, too.”

  “But—”

  “If you’d given him the house on Arcadia Lane, even—let’s say, back in the beginning. If you’d just outright gifted it to him, do you think he would have stopped there?”

  “Well—no. I don’t.”

  “Right. And if you’d done exactly what you did in the beginning, but then done what he demanded of you last year—paid off the bank, given him the house and ten million—”

  “Rob, I know where you’re going. No, he never would have stopped coming to me for money. The more success I had financially, the more demanding he would have become. He would have never left me alone.”

  “Exactly. And during all that time, his wife would have had to deal with him. He’d probably still be lying to her, and of course he would have continued having affairs. And he would have been dangerous, or at least abusive—that, we know.”

  Candace leaned back against a counter. “Though it feels like we’re rationalizing, I think you’re right. In any case, what happened, happened. I can’t change any of it now. Though Helen and I will never be close, we’re more connected through all of this—through tragedy and heartache. That little girl is my niece, Rob. I love her, and I want her to know our child. We need to stay in touch and be supportive, especially after the dark times we’ve survived.”

  Rob approached his wife. “Of course, darling. We will. Now, what about your plans for the rest of the maternity lines? Are you doing several?”

  “Not that many. We’re just putting our toes in the water, not jumping in the pool.”

  “Speaking of water, how about a drink before we go out to dinner? Hard for me, soft for you? Then we’ll continue this conversation.”

  “I do need to stay hydrated. Let me take a quick shower, and I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Rob gave her a look. “Hmm. Perhaps we should forget the drinks and conversation, and I’ll join you, right now.”

  Candace smiled. “Bonne idée, mon amour.”

  Acknowledgments

  I am thankful to the many people who assisted me in the writing of this book. Elen Christopher helped me with many of the details of Candace’s lifestyle, gave me several key suggestions, and offered her unceasing support. Kathy Fowler and Becky Dannenfelser supplied me with important elements about the world of retail and women’s apparel companies. Special thanks to advance readers Elen, Lucille (Lucy) Spann, and Dennis McDermott for their opinions, comments, and advice that helped make Underwater a much stronger, better novel.

  I am grateful to the Writers Circle Critique Group for their feedback and encouragement, especially co-leaders Gelia Dolcimascolo and Beth Horton, and members Mona Haddad, Bill Hines, Jim Huskins, Jaya Kamlani, Freddie McGee, Ron Saint, and June Smith. I owe a debt of gratitude to Gelia and Beth for their continual support and amazing suggestions, and to Beth for reviewing all the sections she missed. Thanks to Jim for his constant encouragement, friendship, and ability to make me laugh; to Freddie for teaching me about pacing and plot; to Jaya for inspiring me to continue and to believe in myself; to Ron, Mona, and June for their spot-on observations and comments; and to Bill for finding my extra hads, and for helping me to “get it right.”

  I am also thankful to Bill for connecting me with my wonderful and thorough editor, fellow Tar Heel Laura Ownbey. Laura worked diligently on the first edition of Underwater, and her commitment was outstanding. She cheerfully listened to me, and pushed me to dig deep into each character’s motivations and emotions.

  For this second, current edition, I am grateful to Anh Schluep, my editor at Thomas & Mercer, and to the entire editing and proofreading team, for their professional focus, direction, and hard work to improve, polish, and sharpen the novel.

  I thank my author friends Peter Morlon-McKenzie, Ernie Pick, and Don Reichardt for their friendship and much-needed words of encouragement as I worked on Underwater. I am also grateful to my wonderful cover artist, Michael Faron (and to Peter for referring him), for his hard work, patience, and creative focus on the first edition cover. I thank Thomas & Mercer cover artist Scott Barrie for his work to revamp, enhance, and refine the original image into a powerful and updated second edition cover.

  Special thanks to my mother, Sally Cooper; my daughter, Annette; my son, Jack; and my mother-in-law, Mary McDermott, for encouraging me and believing in me. As always, I’m grateful to my husband, Dennis, for his unending love and support.

  About the Author

  Julia McDermott was born in Dallas, Texas; grew up in Atlanta, Georgia; and earned a degree in economics from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She also studied French and spent her junior year in the south of France. She and her husband were underwater on their first house in Texas (before being underwater was cool).

  She loves reading, watching football, cheering on the UNC Tar Heels, France, and all things French. The mother of four, she resides in Atlanta with her husband and family.