No Safe Secret (7 page)

“In here,” Teresa said, opening a door at the very back of the kitchen.

Molly stepped inside what appeared to be an employee break room. A shabby brown sofa shoved against the wall held scattered newspapers, and three card tables with chairs sat in the center of the room. On the right side was a long counter with cabinets above it. A microwave, a sink, and two coffeemakers were placed on top of the counter. A variety of cups were upside down in a dish drainer, along with several spoons. “This is where we live when we're not running our butts off,” Teresa said. “Lou lets us take a break whenever we can. In here,” she opened a closet, not much bigger than the one Molly had had at the trailer. Several boxes were stacked on top of one another. Molly stepped forward for a closer look.

“I'd say you're a size small,” Teresa informed her as she removed a box with a bold black S on its end. “These uniforms tend to run large, so don't worry if it hangs on ya now. After a few washes, it'll shrink up.” She removed a starchy white dress from the box. Crease marks from the folds were clearly visible. “Lou insists on clean, ironed uniforms. Today you can get away with it because it's your first day.” She held the uniform out to her. “There's a restroom.” She pointed to another small door Molly hadn't seen when she had first entered the break room. “It's for the women only. The guys have to use the restroom in the kitchen; you know how that is.”

She didn't, but she took the white uniform anyway. “I'll be right back.”

She emerged from the restroom a few minutes later, her jeans and blouse carefully folded in one hand, her purse in the other. The white dress was at least two sizes too big. The hemline hung well below her knees, the shoulders were too wide, and the waist would've fit someone three times her size. She waited for Teresa to notice.

“Looks pretty bad,” she said. “But I can fix ya right up.”

She rummaged through the back of the closet, then pulled out a small shoe box. “Lou's always prepared.” Teresa removed a handful of white cloth belts from the box. “Try this.”

Molly tied the belt around herself, cinching it in at her small waist. “This will work,” she said. “Thanks.” She didn't want Teresa to think she worried about her appearance. Truly, she was glad for the long, baggy-fitting uniform. She did not want to attract attention. This would ensure that no one gave her a second look.

“Okay, it's a bit ugly, but wash it tonight, toss it in the dryer, run an iron over it, and you'll look good as new. Now”—Teresa rubbed the palms of her hands together—“you've waited tables before, right?”

Molly nodded. “Tony's—” She caught herself. The last thing she needed to do was to reveal her former place of employment. “Tony's” would have to suffice. She doubted Lou would check references.

“Don't matter where, just as long as you have. Now, we use the spindle method. Orders are placed clockwise, and Houston, our head cook, hits the bell, then calls the waitress's name when the order is ready. We don't have a set formula for abbreviations. So long as Houston can read your handwriting, you'll be fine. No curlicues or smiley faces dotting your i's, either. Just print normally, and keep your eye on the customers and your ears on the kitchen. We'll have a lunch rush; we always do from noon till around two-thirty. You follow me. You can help with drinks and refills, removing plates when the customer finishes. Once I think you have a feel for it, you're on your own. As I said, whatever tips you earn are yours. We don't split tips. We don't take credit cards or checks; we're cash only. Lou pays us two bucks an hour, and we make up the rest to cover minimum wage, and not one penny extra. You familiar with this method?”

“Yes,” she said, even though she wasn't. Her jobs had all been cash under the table, but she didn't feel the need to share this with Teresa.

“Lou'll have ya fill out a W-2 form when she comes back. You got a copy of your social security card? 'Cause she don't hire illegals.”

Thankfully, her social security card was stuck to the back of her driver's license. “Yes, and I have a driver's license, too.”

“That might come in handy, in case Lou needs something delivered. Once in a while we deliver lunch to a few of the doctors and professors at one of the colleges, MIT or Harvard. The restaurant has a car for deliveries, so having a license will make Lou happy. I personally don't drive. Never had to, living here.”

Molly couldn't imagine not driving but didn't say this to Teresa. For now, she, too, would use the public transit system.

She had to focus on remaining as anonymous as humanly possible.

Her life could very well depend on it.

S
ally removed the last dinner plate, and Molly breathed an inward sigh of relief. She couldn't wait for the evening to end. She'd had a difficult time remembering all the names of all the doctors and their wives and had to devise a mental plan in order to do so.

Dr. Wolf was there with his fiancée, Liz, whom she would never forget because she chewed with her mouth open and wouldn't stop talking long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise, so Molly mentally deleted her from her future guest list, of course with Tanner's approval. Then there was Dr. Marsden, along with his wife, Carolina, who owned three day-care centers in the city. She, too, talked nonstop about how important her work was, and after an hour of listening to the ins and outs of running a day-care center, Molly had visions of cramming the centers
and
the children down Ms. Marsden's throat. She'd smiled and complimented her on her choice of careers. Something about Dr. Marsden bothered her, but she didn't know what it was, or why the thought even entered her head.

She had listened to Dr. O'Leary and his wife of twenty years, Megyn, discuss what college they wanted their son to attend. Both had decided Harvard was not the best college, having both graduated from the prestigious Ivy League school themselves. Megyn, who'd been seated next to her, whispered, “He would never be accepted.” Molly nodded and wondered about Kristen. If this were the case, would she openly admit that her daughter wasn't as intelligent as others her age? Probably not, she thought.

While most of the doctors and their wives were in their late thirties to middle forties, Dr. Kent and his wife, Dianna, were old enough to retire. She taught high school English at Boston Latin Academy. She bragged about her students' accomplishments, and said how much she would miss them when she retired.

“Then why retire?” Molly asked, just to be polite.

Dianna looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. “Albert's retiring soon. I wouldn't dream of working after he retired.”

These were modern women, married to doctors. Didn't they have careers or retirement aspirations of their own? Not knowing what to say, Molly simply smiled and took a bite of her fish, trying not to think that, when push came to shove, she really wasn't all that different from these women. And that led her to wonder if they had secrets, too.

Tanner chose that moment to clear his throat rather loudly. “This investment will be ideal for both of you. Guaranteed to provide you with a good return while you travel the world.”

Dianna nodded but deferred to her husband. “Whatever Albert wants to do.”

“I think it's time we took a vacation from our hectic lives. It's been so long since I've slept in, though truthfully I'm not sure I can any longer,” Dr. Kent explained, laughing. “But I plan on doing my best to try to get used to the idea.”

Jill Waters and her husband, Dr. Peter Waters, had barely uttered a word since they sat down to dinner. As hostess, Molly knew it was her job to encourage conversation, to make her guests feel comfortable enough to let down whatever barriers restrained them. “Dr. Waters, do you and Mrs. Waters have children?” This was always a safe question. Or so she thought.

Jill Waters, bland and pale, with white-blond hair and skin to match, shook her head. “It's Jill. Uh, no. We can't . . . we don't have children.” She looked to her husband as though he should explain why.

Dr. Waters cleared his throat as Tanner had moments ago. “Jill can't have children, and I do not want to adopt. So, no, we don't have children. And frankly, in this day and age, I think of it as a blessing in disguise. Kids have no respect. Want the world handed to them on a silver platter.” He stopped when he realized that all of the attention was focused on him. “Not that I dislike children,” he added.

“Of course we love children,” Mrs. Waters,
Jill
, added. “We've been blessed in other ways.”

“Of course you have,” Molly encouraged. “Children are often challenging, and not everyone is suited to parenting.” The second the words came out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.

“But then, there are those of us who are born to become parents,” Tanner added none too kindly as he shot her a look that she called “the death look.”

It was Tanner's idea of a challenge. She would go with it. He wouldn't dare show his true colors in front of their dinner guests. He should have told her that the subject of children was taboo where Dr. and Mrs. Waters were concerned.

“Yes, and children don't have to be flesh and blood in order to love them as your own.” Molly had no clue why she said this since it was certainly not her experience. Maybe it was the truth for some, but it had stopped being true for her a very long time ago. A mental challenge to Tanner? Maybe. She held his gaze across the table's long expanse.

“Some would disagree,” he said, continuing to focus his sharp blue eyes on her.

Backpedaling, Molly said, “I'm sure every situation is different.”

“Kudos to those who can manage stepchildren or adopted kids. I'd be the first to say it's a mistake. Blood really is thicker than water,” Dr. Waters added. “My father never let me forget this. Always told me to keep the bloodline going, didn't want an imposter tarnishing the family legacy.”

Molly agreed to a certain point, but now wasn't the time to make her opinion known. Desperate to change the topic of conversation, she stood. “I'm going to serve dessert. Would anyone care for coffee, too?” Scanning the group gathered around the table, she gave a phony smile, and, not waiting for a reply, she headed to the kitchen.

Sally was putting plates in the dishwasher. “You finished with dinner already?” she questioned.

“Don't I wish. No, I'm going to serve coffee, and that red velvet cake I bought at Gloria's. Tanner won't like that since it's not homemade.”

Damn! Why had she added that? Sally had enough to deal with in her own personal life. Molly knew she suspected that her and Tanner's relationship was far from ideal, but it was very likely comments like this one that had led Sally to that conclusion, or so Molly assumed. Not that she'd ever mentioned her marital issues to Sally or spoke of them to anyone else. She didn't have to. Molly could read Sally like an open book. Sally was in a bad marriage, too. And as the old saying went, “It takes one to know one.”

“It's homemade. Just not in your kitchen,” Sally said.

She grinned. “I guess you're right. Gloria would tell me the same, I suppose. But . . . ,” she didn't finish the thought out loud.
Tanner wouldn't see it that way
. She removed a stack of dessert plates from the cabinet and placed them on a serving tray, along with forks and spoons for the coffee. “You'll follow me with the coffee?” she asked Sally.

“Right behind you, Miss Molly.”

She nodded, then hoisted the tray, using the palm of her left hand to carry the bulk of the weight, and her right hand to keep it steady. Old habits, she thought, as she plastered on a smile for her guests.

“I see my magnificent Molly has decided to tempt us with one of her homemade confections,” Tanner said when he saw her placing the large tray on the sideboard.

She hated it when he referred to her as his “magnificent Molly”!

Bastard
, she wanted to shout, but as usual, she refrained. “Sorry, sweetie pie,” she used this term of endearment, knowing how he hated it, “but I didn't bake this. I purchased this at Gloria's earlier. I'm sure it's much better than any dessert I could make.” Also, she wanted to add that, given his last-minute dinner demand, he was lucky she'd had time to prepare dinner, let alone dessert. But again, these negative thoughts, which seemed to be appearing more and more frequently in her subconscious, were simply that: thoughts. She would never put them into words.

She watched him. He was so predictable. His Adam's apple was bobbing, and his eyes were darting everywhere but at her. Flustered and ticked. Yes, once again, she'd displeased him. Later, she would hear about it, but now, if only for a short while, she could act as master, and he was her puppet. For a little while. Later, she would question her actions.

“Well, we all know that Gloria's is the best Goldenhills has to offer. Thank you, Molly. I should've suggested this myself.”

She smiled and set the dark-red, four-layer cake, with at least an inch of cream cheese frosting, between the other items on the sideboard, where she proceeded to slice huge triangles and place them on the dessert plates. Molly knew it was a bit spiteful, but she wondered if these submissive wives would dig in to the high-calorie cake, or would they claim to be too full? Given her past experience with doctors' wives, she would bet on the latter.

“Jill?” She held out a plate for the vapid woman.

“Leave the dessert on the sideboard, Molly. If anyone wants dessert, they can get it themselves.”

Embarrassed, but not enough to care, she nodded and put the plate down. Sally stood by the sideboard with the pot of coffee. “Just leave it there, Sally,” Molly said, a very small way of one-upping Tanner. “If anyone wants coffee, they can help themselves to that as well.”

God, she could not wait for this evening to end! She'd smiled so much that her cheeks were beginning to throb. She'd developed a headache the minute Tanner returned from the office, shouting commands over his shoulder as he raced upstairs to shower and change. She needed a break. Maybe she would go to Europe with Kristen. They were closer than most mothers and daughters, so she wouldn't mind. An idea to be considered. She'd mention this to Kristen later.

What was she thinking? As close as she and Kristen were, this was her high-school graduation trip! There was no way that she would want her mother tagging along. But Molly really needed time away, time to reevaluate her life. Time to reflect on her past.

Megyn and Dianna both helped themselves to cake and coffee. Bits of conversation flitted past her, but if she had been asked, she wouldn't have been able to repeat a word of what had been said. For some reason, she just couldn't stop thinking about her life. When had it become so frightening? So out of control?

“Molly, did you hear me?” Tanner asked, his voice louder than what was usually considered polite.

She blinked to clear her mind. “I'm sorry, I was thinking about . . . Kristen.” She offered up a flimsy smile, hoping he'd soften his tone a bit. She really did not want to have an argument in front of their guests. “She's leaving for Europe tomorrow.” She directed her words to their dinner guests, who were now scattered around the large dining room. Some were drinking coffee while others had gotten drinks from the bar. How had she missed this?

“Kristen is perfectly fine. I asked if we have more bourbon? Those silly drinks you made before dinner were disgusting.” He said it just loud enough for Dr. Wolf and Liz to hear what he said and the tone of voice in which he said it.

Taking a deep breath, and again offering a smile, lukewarm at best, she replied. “I'm sure we have more in the pantry.” With that, she whirled out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Sally was scrubbing the baking sheet she'd used for the fish.

“Sally, is there any more bourbon? Tanner's in one of his moods, says the drinks I made were terrible.” Right then, she didn't care if Sally knew she was miffed.

“Of course. In the pantry. Bottom shelf, far right.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, and meant it. She'd stuff an extra hundred-dollar bill in an envelope for her on payday. Bourbon was Tanner's drink. She should've checked to make sure there was an extra bottle stocked in the bar in the dining room. In her defense, she figured her blackberry concoction would be enough alcohol. They were doctors, and it was a weeknight. Didn't they have patients to care for early tomorrow morning? They weren't all dentists, who worked nine to five. Well, who really cared, she thought, as she grabbed two bottles of the golden liquid. If they wanted booze, they could drink until dawn for all she cared. Molly placed the bourbon on top of the bar, hoping this would be the end of Tanner's stupid tirade, but experience told her that what had come before was just a warm-up for the main event.

He took the bottle, removed the cap, and liberally filled a rocks glass. “Here. This is for you.”

She took the drink from him, her stomach knotting up. Tanner knew that she rarely drank, and when she did, bourbon was not her choice of drink. He glared at her, and she pretended to take a sip, just to appease him. She stared at him, then placed the glass down. “You finish it for me.”

Molly turned away, felt his icy stare as she walked away. In the kitchen, Sally had cleaned all the pots and pans, the dishwasher was humming, and all traces of their combined dinner prep had been removed.

“Go on home, Sally. I'll take care of the dessert plates,” Molly offered.

“I can stay if you want me to,” Sally said. “It's not like I have anyone waiting on me at home.”

Molly wondered if this was her way of telling her that for tonight she wouldn't be suffering any kind of punishment from her husband. She wanted to ask, but she couldn't deal with someone else's can of worms. Not tonight. She'd opened her own, and she knew it wasn't going to be pretty when their guests left.

“You've been on your feet all day. I'll take care of the rest of the dishes.”

Sally dried her hands on a paper towel, then tossed it in the garbage can beneath the sink. “If you're sure you'll be okay without me,” Sally said, though it sounded more like a question to Molly. Almost as though she were asking her if she would be all right if she was left alone with Tanner.