“Did you ask Vera to take the baby or did she offer?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know anymore,” Marisol said. “It’s all a blur. Vera wanted a baby desperately and my husband did not want children at all.”
Connie’s hands fell to her waist. The dog’s leash slipped from her wrist, but she made no move to pick it up. She couldn’t take her eyes off Marisol.
Gretchen asked, “Why not leave him?”
“Besides the fact that he would have actually killed me? Because I would have been broke. The money? It was all his. He brought it to the marriage, and he made more and more and more money. We had a prenuptial agreement. I had to be faithful and childless for twenty years before I’d be entitled to any marital property.”
“Is that even legal?” Josie asked.
Connie’s dog trotted off into the trees, sniffing around, its leash trailing behind it. Tears fell from Connie’s eyes as she listened to her friend pour out decades-old secrets.
“I don’t know,” Marisol answered. “Why don’t you ask eighteen-year-old Marisol? She was a smart girl. A girl who met a guy at a restaurant where she was waitressing, signed whatever he asked her to sign, stayed home like a good little wifey, cooking and remodeling while he went off looking for the next eighteen-year-old girl to satisfy his urges. Who sat in that big old house alone year after year while he traveled the world, sometimes for months at a time. Who got hit when she complained about it. The girl who thought all of that was just fantastic could probably tell you if that prenuptial agreement she didn’t even read until she was twenty-five was legal.”
“I’m sorry,” Josie said.
Tears glistened in Marisol’s eyes. “Vera was my friend. I know it sounds stupid, but she was a good friend to me. We cooked up this plan. We were stupid and young, and I was scared shitless. But I knew that if we pulled it off, Vera would take good care of the baby, and she did. She was a wonderful mother. Much better than I would have been. At least until Beverly got a little older and started to act out.”
“Vera got frustrated and called you,” Josie said. “She wanted you to take Beverly.”
Connie took a step closer to Marisol, staring into her friend’s face as though she were a complete stranger. “You did all of this?” she asked incredulously.
Ignoring her, Marisol sniffed and addressed Josie. “I don’t know if she was serious about that or if she was just venting but yeah. I told her there was no way. We couldn’t undo what we’d done. We couldn’t just come clean. I offered her more money. I was able to funnel money to her for years until Beverly pushed her down the steps. Kurt gave me an allowance for spa treatments, clothes, getting my hair done, stuff like that. I cut back on a lot of things and gave the cash to Vera. Then she got hooked on pills and there was never enough money for her. She wouldn’t leave me alone and then Kurt—fucking pervert Kurt—met Beverly across the street from that old theater. She worked at some pizza place or something.”
“It was an ice cream shop,” Josie said.
Marisol rolled her eyes. “Whatever. That was his MO though. He’d go to these shitty eating spots where college girls would be working and he’d pick them up, have a little fun with them and move on. Except Beverly wasn’t a college kid.”
“She looked like one,” Josie said.
Marisol nodded. “Yeah. She did. Anyway, I found out about it. I knew about all his girls. I tried to keep tabs. I was waiting for a good blackmail opportunity, but it never seemed right.”
Connie’s hands shot out, pushing Marisol violently. Stumbling back, Marisol nearly went over the ledge. Her feet scrabbled to gain purchase, the mud disappearing beneath her in rapid fashion. Josie leapt toward her, falling onto her stomach, and grabbing both of Marisol’s wrists. The stiches in her leg burned. “Help me,” she shouted to Gretchen.
Gretchen knelt on the ground, trying to find a place on the ledge that wouldn’t give way and reached over, helping Josie to pull Marisol back onto the ledge. Once she was safely back over, Marisol sat on her rear, chest heaving. She glared at Connie. “What is your problem?”
Connie pointed an accusing finger at her. “My problem? My problem is that you’re a lying, conniving bitch