Shadow Creek (4 page)

It was the beginning of an unexpected, and unexpectedly successful, career, a career that came to an abrupt and equally unexpected halt the day Val returned home early from a trying day of dealing with her mother to find Evan in bed dealing with the comely Jennifer.

It’s my fault, Val told herself at the time. I got careless, complacent. As the years had progressed and Brianne had grown
from infant to toddler to little girl who needed her mother, Val had become more and more loath to leave her. The threat of danger no longer held the same appeal it once had. She was a mother now. She had responsibilities. She even had a career. It wasn’t just about her anymore.

Except it had never really been about her. It had been about Evan.

Always about Evan. Even now.

How did that happen?

Val wasn’t some stupid little girl. She wasn’t a complainer or a crybaby. She was very much in control of every aspect of her life, except one—Evan. And maybe her mother. Okay, so, two aspects of her life. Make that three, she decided now, thinking of Brianne. “Brianne,” she shouted up the stairs in a renewed effort to silence the voices in her head, “get a move on.”

The phone rang.

Hopefully my mother calling to wish me a happy birthday, Valerie thought, cutting across the front foyer to the stainless-steel kitchen at the back of the house. Was it possible she’d actually remembered? Val shook her head. More likely, she was calling to ask whether Val could drop off a few bottles of Merlot on her way into Manhattan.

The sun had temporarily managed to break through the heavy rain clouds that had been hovering over the area for the better part of the week and was shining through the two-story-high window that took up the kitchen’s entire west wall. Val hoped the rain had finally ended. The Adirondacks were undeniably beautiful, but camping wasn’t a whole lot of fun in the rain, and unlike Val, Brianne was a reluctant camper at best.

“Why do I have to go on this stupid camping trip anyway?” she’d been whining for weeks. “I’d much rather go into the city with you and your friends, go shopping, see some shows …”

“I’d like that, too, sweetheart,” Val had said truthfully. It was so rare that Brianne expressed an interest in doing anything with her these days. She was at the age where she considered her mother a necessary nuisance at best, an outright pain in the butt at worst, and it seemed they hardly spent any time together anymore. What time they
did
spend together was filled with pointless arguments that went nowhere and exhausting confrontations that left Val despairing over who this strange and willful creature was and what she’d done with her daughter. Brianne was growing up and away from her so fast that it would have been nice having her along this weekend to celebrate her birthday. They could have used the time to get reacquainted.

“I still don’t understand,” Brianne was complaining again now, “why I have to go on this dumb trip.”

“Because your father wants you to go camping with him and …”

“… the slut?” Brianne asked with a smile, watching for her mother’s reaction. “Don’t look so shocked. That’s what
you
call her.”

Val made a silent promise to stop referring to Jennifer in this way. At least when her daughter was within earshot. “Hello,” she said now, picking up the phone, on the alert for the telltale slur in her mother’s response.

“Hey, you,” Evan said instead, the same way he’d been greeting her voice on the phone for almost two decades. Casual, yet intimate. Intimate, yet casual.

Their marriage, in a nutshell.

“Hey,” Val echoed, afraid to say more. She pictured her soon-to-be ex-husband sitting behind the wheel of his new black Jaguar, his soft, dark hair falling into his light blue eyes, his full lips curled into an easy smile, one hand on the wheel,
the other hand sliding under Jennifer’s skirt. “Is there a problem?” she asked, banishing the image.

He laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

It’s part of your charm, Val thought, but didn’t say. Instead she said, “You’re running late.”

“About half an hour.”

Val immediately doubled his estimate. Half an hour, Evan-time, meant at least an hour on anybody else’s clock. “Okay. I’ll tell Brianne.”

“Tell her a problem came up that …”

“… has to be dealt with,” Val finished for him, having learned the script by heart years ago.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“It’ll be strange,” he added, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

“What will?”

A sigh. Then, “Being there without you. Not celebrating your birthday together.”

Val said nothing. How could she speak when he’d knocked the wind right out of her?

“Val?”

“I’ll tell Brianne you’ll be here in half an hour.” Val hung up the phone before either of them could say another word. What was he trying to tell her?

“What are you doing?” Brianne asked suddenly.

Val spun around. Her daughter was standing in front of her, still wearing only her underwear.

“Is everything all right?” Brianne continued. “Did something happen to Grandma?”

“What? Why on earth would you think that?”

“Because something’s obviously wrong. You’ve been standing
there for the last ten minutes with your hand on the phone, not moving.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have. I’ve been watching you.”

Val was about to argue when she glanced at her watch and realized her daughter was right. What did it mean? That Evan now had the power to make time stand still? “Your grandmother’s fine.”

Brianne shrugged. “So, who called?”

“Your father. He’s …”

“Not your problem anymore,” Brianne reminded her.

“He’s running late,” Val continued, ignoring her daughter’s interruption.

“Let me guess. A problem came up …”

“… that had to be dealt with,” mother and daughter said together, then laughed, something they did less and less these days. With each other anyway.

“He’ll be here in half an hour,” Val offered.

“Yeah, right.”

“You should get dressed, just in case.”

The doorbell rang. Val’s head shot toward the sound. Were James and Melissa actually here already? Could it possibly be Evan? She glanced at her reflection in the black glass of the oven. I should have washed my hair, she thought. I should have put on some makeup.

“You look fine,” Brianne said, as if reading her mother’s thoughts. “Besides, it’s only Sasha.”

“Who?”

“Sasha,” Brianne repeated, walking out of the kitchen toward the front door, her round bottom a perfect circle sliced into two wondrously high halves.

Just shoot me now, Val thought, following after her. “Who’s Sasha?”

“My friend who works at Lululemon. You met her a few weeks ago. Honestly, Mom. You never remember any of my friends.”

Val was about to protest when she realized Brianne was right. She couldn’t keep track of her daughter’s friends, who seemed to change as often as her moods. One day Kelly was her best friend; the next day it was Tanya, then Paulette, then Stacey. And now this Sasha person who worked at Lululemon. Val vaguely remembered a pretty girl with waist-length blond hair waiting on them a few weeks ago when they went shopping in Manhattan for exercise clothes. What was she doing here now? “What’s she doing here now?” Val heard herself ask.

“Returning my BlackBerry.”

“What’s she doing with your BlackBerry?”

“I left it at the store the other day.”

“What were you doing in Manhattan?”

“Just trying on some stuff.”

“And you left your BlackBerry? Do you know how expensive those things are? You can’t be so careless.”

“What’s the big deal? I left it; Sasha found it. And she very nicely volunteered to bring it over on her way to work.” Brianne pulled open the front door, effectively silencing further discussion.

The first thing Val thought when she saw Sasha was that the girl was both prettier and older than she remembered. She was wearing a lime-green T-shirt and a pair of black workout pants that emphasized her considerable curves. At least eighteen, maybe even closer to twenty, Val estimated. Why would she want to be friends with someone who’d just turned sixteen?

“Come on in,” Brianne said, ushering her inside. “Wow. Is that your car?” She motioned toward the bright orange 1964 Mustang that was parked so far from the curb it looked as if it had been abandoned in the middle of the road.

“Isn’t it great?”

“It’s totally great. I love the color.”

“Maybe you should park it a little closer to the curb,” Val suggested.

“It’s fine where it is,” Brianne said. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, “You remember my mother.”

“Hi, Valerie,” Sasha said with a toss of her long blond hair.

Val had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from saying, “I prefer to be called Mrs. Rowe, thank you.” She reminded herself that she wouldn’t be Mrs. Rowe for much longer, followed by an even more disconcerting thought: Who
would
she be? “Hello, Sasha. Nice to see you again.”

“How are you enjoying those outfits you bought? Aren’t they the greatest?”

“Yes, they’re …”

But Sasha had already returned her full attention to Brianne. “Would you just get a load of you,” she was saying. “What a great little body you have.”

“No,” Brianne demurred. “I have to lose five pounds.”

“What?” Val said.

“Not to mention I’m getting my nose done.”

“You’re not doing anything to that nose,” Val said with more vehemence than she’d intended. How many times had Melissa cautioned it was best to let such pronouncements slide?

“It’s too long. It doesn’t go with my face.” Brianne motioned to Sasha to follow her up the stairs.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with your nose!” Val shouted after them.

“It’s too long and too wide. I’m getting it fixed,” Brianne insisted without turning around.

Val stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs, listening to Brianne’s bedroom door close and fighting the urge to burst into tears. Who was putting these stupid ideas in her daughter’s head?

Probably the same woman with whom her daughter was going to be spending the next three days, camping in the Adirondacks.

Well, not camping exactly. The Lodge at Shadow Creek was hardly anybody’s idea of roughing it. Val sighed, remembering the times she and Evan had stayed there, the morning she’d unexpectedly dropped to her knees and asked for happily ever after.

“It’ll be strange,” Evan had said earlier, “being there without you. Not celebrating your birthday together.”

What was he really saying? That he wished he could go back and undo the things he’d done? That all Val had to do was say the word and he’d tell sweet, slutty Jennifer he was sorry but her time was up? That he loved his wife after all? That she was the only woman he’d ever really loved? That he couldn’t imagine going to Shadow Creek without her? That he didn’t want to go anywhere without her ever again? That all he wanted was to come back home?

“Yeah, right,” Val said, borrowing her daughter’s favorite phrase. Then, “God, you’re pitiful.” Still, she decided as she headed up the stairs, it wouldn’t hurt to put on a little makeup and comb her hair before Evan arrived.

Y
OUR MOM’S FUNNY,” SASHA was saying as Brianne closed her bedroom door.

“Yeah, a real bundle of laughs.” Brianne bounced down on her unmade, queen-size bed, next to her empty overnight bag, causing her flowered comforter to billow up around her, like a parachute.

“This is a neat room.” Sasha glanced appreciatively around the large, lavender-and-white bedroom, equipped with the latest in modern technology: a computer on a modern stainless-steel and glass desk that stood in front of the window, a high-definition TV that was mounted on the wall. “Well, maybe
neat
isn’t exactly the right word.” She laughed, her eyes skirting the pale mauve carpeting that was almost completely covered with discarded clothing, neglected shoes, and the latest celebrity and fashion
magazines. Sasha scooped a well-worn copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
off the floor, opened it, then laughed. “I see somebody owes the school library some serious change.”

Damn, Brianne thought. She’d meant to return that book before the end of the school year but had never quite gotten around to it.

“Have you even read it?”

“I saw the movie on TV a while back,” Brianne offered, sheepishly.

“That Gregory Peck was pretty hot.”

“Kind of old.”

Sasha’s voice turned sly. “I thought you liked older guys.”

Brianne felt her face grow warm and tried to brush away an unwanted blush from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Blushing was for silly young girls. Which she most decidedly was not. Not anymore.

“And speaking of older guys, your dad’s really hot,” Sasha said, absently checking herself out in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed as she lifted a framed photograph of Brianne’s father from the top of the hand-painted dresser.

“I guess.”

“Did I tell you he came into the store again the other day?”

“Did he? Cool. I told him you had some great new stuff he should check out.”

“He’s really fit.”

“He works out a lot.”

“It shows.” Sasha returned the picture to the dresser and picked up a small bottle of Prada perfume. “What’s with him and the girlfriend?”

“Fiancée,” Brianne corrected.

“Whatever. She was kind of clingy. Hanging all over him, as if to say, ‘Back off, bitches. He’s mine.’ You know the type. She
was all ‘What do you think of this outfit, honey?’ and ‘What color do you like better, sweetie-pie?’ Pretty nauseating.”

“She calls him sweetie-pie?” Brianne fought off the sudden urge to gag.

Sasha shrugged, returning her attention to her reflection and smiling in silent approval. She sniffed at the bottle of perfume, then opened it, dabbing a few drops behind each ear without asking. “Hmm. This smells yummy. Expensive?”

“Probably.” Brianne hoped she didn’t sound as guilty as she felt. It was her mother’s perfume. She’d borrowed it without asking the other night and hadn’t gotten around to putting it back.