“No reason to be scared,” I assured her. “It’s just the lawyer in me. I know how some people might think, and it’s best if we’re clear on this.”
She stepped closer, stopping in the kitchen door. She still held the spoon. Her eyes were very steady, and she lowered her voice, as if to give her words a special emphasis. “I would know if you’d left,” she stated simply, and something in her face made me wonder if she knew the truth. That I had left. That I’d spent long hours weeping on Vanessa’s shoulder before creeping back into our bed an hour before dawn, scared weak that she would wake up.
“You were here,” she said. “With me. There can be no question about that.”
I smiled, praying this time that my face would remain intact. “Good. Then we’re settled. Thank you, Barbara.” I rubbed my hands together. “Dinner smells great,” I added lamely, turning away as quickly as might seem reasonable. I almost made it to the couch, when a thought stopped me. “What time did Douglas come by?”
“Four o’clock,” she told me, and I sat down on the couch. Four o’clock. An hour before I spoke to him in the parking lot. I was wrong, then. Our friendship didn’t die when he questioned me; the corpse was already cold and starting to stink. The fat bastard was testing me.
Dinner would have been great if I could have tasted it. We had caramelized Brie with slivered almonds, Caesar salad, beef Wellington, and fresh bread. The chardonnay turned out to be Australian. My wife was beautiful in the candlelight and at times I thought that maybe I’d misjudged her. She made clever remarks at the expense of no one, spoke of current events and a book we’d both read. Occasionally, her hand touched mine. I grew mellow with wine and hope. By half past nine, I thought maybe we had a chance after all. It didn’t last long.
The plates had been cleared away, stacked in the sink for the people we’d be the next day. The remnants of dessert littered the table and we were halfway through a coffee and Baileys. A quiet contentment filled me, and I looked forward to loving her for the first time in forever. Her hand was on my leg.
“So tell me,” she said, leaning closer, seeming to offer herself. “When do you think we’ll move?” The question caught me by surprise. I didn’t understand, but her eyes had a new glitter and I felt myself sobering, almost against my will. She sipped her wine, her eyes dark above the pale half-moon of the glass’s edge. She waited in silence, as if only for me to pluck a date from the air.
“Move where?” I asked, because I had no choice. I dreaded her answer, mainly because I knew what it would be.
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t joke,” she said.
The last of my pleasure vanished, devoured by the cruel hunger in her voice. “I’m not,” I said. “Are you?”
I watched as her face softened but saw that it was forced. The muscles still clenched in her once-lovely jawline.
“Into Ezra’s house. Into our new house.”
“What in the world makes you think that we’re moving into that house?”
“I just thought . . . I mean . . .”
“Damn it, Barbara, we can barely afford this house, and it’s not even half the size of my father’s.”
“It’s such a lovely home,” she said. “I just assumed . . .”
“You assumed we’d move into an eight-thousand-square-foot house we can’t afford to heat?”
“But the will—”
“I don’t even know what’s in the will!” I exclaimed. “I don’t have a clue!”
“But Glena said—”
I exploded. “Glena! I should have known. Is that what you two were talking about last night?” I thought of the miserable hours I’d spent in the garage while my wife and her detestable friend planned Barbara’s rise to eminence. “You had it all planned out.”
A change came over Barbara as I watched. Suddenly, she was cool dispassion.
“It makes sense if we’re going to start a family,” she said, then sipped her wine and watched me with a hunter’s patience. It was not fair. Barbara knew how much I wanted children. I sighed deeply and poured straight Baileys into my cup.
“Are you blackmailing me?” I asked. “Children for Ezra’s house?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I’m merely suggesting that children would be a logical next step for us, and we could