The Deepest Secret (21 page)

Eve fumbles for the garage door opener and pushes down hard on the accelerator. The car shoots forward.

Nikki gasps and Scott laughs in Eve’s ear. “Good,” he hisses.

“You can’t come in!” Gloria calls out. She sounds weak, uncertain, every minute of her seventy years. “Go away!”

The car slides beneath the garage door. The antenna twangs against the lip of the door. As soon as they’re safely inside, Eve presses the button again and the door descends, inch by inch. She waits for a reporter to scuttle beneath it like a cockroach. But no one does. She switches off the engine, and they all sit, motionless, exhausted.

You live in a fantasy world
, David had accused, but he’s wrong. She’s in hell.

DAVID

T
he partners call a meeting to announce that Preston’s no longer with the firm. Everyone stands around in the conference room, talking in low voices, uneasy.
What happened? Was he sick? Worse—was he
fired?

“That was quick,” Renée murmurs to David. He can’t help feeling responsible, which is ridiculous. Preston’s brought this on himself. The ego of the man, thinking he wouldn’t get discovered.

Stan pulls him aside afterward. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

They go down the hall and Stan closes the door to his office. “So listen,” he says. “Preston left behind a real mess. We’re trying to unravel just how deep this thing ran, without alarming our clients. We’ve got a forensic accountant coming in to help, but I wonder if
you’d shoulder some of Preston’s workload, at least until we can find someone to replace him.”

This is exactly the kind of high-profile work that the partners will want to see from someone they’re considering having join their ranks. Still, David hesitates. He’s already putting in thirteen-hour days. “All right,” he says slowly. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The most pressing thing is the cost-benefit analysis Preston was doing of that hospital purchase.”

“The one in Connecticut?” David’s ambivalent about acquiring a hospital. Their bread-and-butter is hotel management. He knows nothing about the health-care industry.

“We have to act fast. There are a number of other parties sniffing around. Before we get into any sort of bidding war, I need to know where we stand.” The phone on Stan’s desk rings. Stan reaches for it and pauses. “Tell you what. Why don’t you ask Renée to help you?”

“Jeffery’s mom is driving me crazy.” Renée slides papers into a folder. “She doesn’t like the reception hall we picked. She says it’s too far for her relatives to drive.”

They’re in the conference room, surrounded by papers and empty coffee cups. It’s late and most people have gone for the day. It’s surprising to see how organized and tidy Renée is. He’d never have guessed it from the way she keeps her car. Every time he gets into it, he has to watch where he places his feet. A tube of lip gloss, a magazine or a book, a bundle of flowers wrapped in stiff cellophane and tied with ribbon.

“What does your mom say?” In his experience, it was the mother of the bride who called the shots. Eve’s mom had decided everything, from the color of the cummerbund David wore to the wording on the invitations. He’d been happy to hand it all over to her. Eve had been so close to her mother. They were always talking on
the phone. They laughed at the same things; they talked in shorthand. But those phone calls have dropped away, like so many other things.

“My mom’s terrified of Jeffery’s mom.” She taps together some papers and extends them. “Did you want to read this?”

“Sure.” He’s got some business school contacts he’s reached out to who have given him some names. It’s important to talk to people in the health industry to get their perspective. He’s made a few calls and they have appointments for the next day.

“It’s not just the reception hall,” Renée says. “She doesn’t like the menu or the color of my bridesmaids’ dresses. They’re
my
bridesmaids. I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over.”

It won’t end there, though. “When you marry someone, you marry their whole family,” he says.

“That’s a disturbing thought. Jeffery’s brother is a pothead.”

He laughs. He glances at the clock. It’s after eight o’clock. His family’s eating dinner. Eve will have lit the candles on the patio table and be leaning forward in the orange glow to talk with Melissa and Tyler, wanting to know how their first day of school has gone.

There are footsteps outside in the corridor. It’s one of the partners, his hand lifted in greeting as he strides past. A moment later there’s the click of the front door closing. Silence echoes all around them. Still, Renée lowers her voice as she leans forward. “So what do you think? Do you think they’re going to press charges against Preston?”

“Probably.”

She makes a face. “Poor guy. His wife’s a psycho.”

“How do you know that?”

“People let all sorts of things drop at happy hour.”

David’s never around for the office get-togethers. He’s always leaving for the airport just as people are congregating by the elevators. They’ll wave to him.
C’mon
, they’ll call.
One drink
. He always turns them down. “Like what?” he asks.

“Let’s see. The guy who fixes the copier has a black belt. Hard to believe, right? Hal’s color-blind, which is why he wears such awful ties. Rosalie’s pregnant with twins, but that’s a secret. She doesn’t want her boss to know. Oh, and Stan cheats at golf.”

“Stan cheats?”

“Jeffery says so. Of course, Stan would have to cheat, Jeffery’s so good at golf. Did you know he always gets a hole in one?”

David’s never liked golf, chasing a small white ball around manicured grass. The really hard game is tennis. “Golf’s a lot of walking.”

“Yeah, well, Jeffery’s obsessed.”

Figures Jeffery would enjoy something he wouldn’t break a sweat doing.

“I wish Jeffery would talk to his mom,” Renée says. “I tried giving him the silent treatment, but honestly? I think he enjoyed it.”

He and Eve hadn’t argued in the days leading up to their wedding. The early years of their marriage had been joyful.

“Do you get along with your mother-in-law?” Renée asks.

“More or less.”

She’s waiting for more.

“We don’t see Eve’s parents much,” he admits. “They’re nervous around Tyler. They’re terrified they’ll hurt him.”

“So your kids don’t know their grandparents?”

“They visit on Skype, send cards.” Why should he feel guilty divulging this? Women talk about this stuff all the time. He’s been horrified by the things Eve’s told Charlotte.

“That’s too bad. What does Eve do?”

“She’s a website designer.” She had wanted to go to New York and work for an advertising agency. But, of course, that had never happened.

“That’s cool.”

“You’d like her.” Eve has a way of listening that draws people out. Strangers were always giving her their life stories. He would
come home and find the mail truck parked at the curb and the postal carrier in heavy conversation with her. She’d be late returning from running errands because another shopper had sought out her advice or the checkout clerk had had a bad day and wanted to tell her all about it. He was always rescuing her at parties from people who’d buttonholed her in a corner, back when they went to parties.

“Would she like me?”

“Sure,” he says, but is it true? Eve might think Renée’s too shallow, too easily swayed by what other people think of her. Eve wouldn’t appreciate Renée’s other qualities, her willingness to laugh at herself or to take risks.

“Maybe I’ll meet her someday.”

“Next time you’re in Columbus.” Which is the only way it would work. No one from the office knows Eve or any part of that side of his life. He’s standing in two separate worlds, one foot in each city. Just as soon as he arrives in one place, he’s getting ready to leave for the other.

“I’ve never been to Columbus. There are a lot of places I’ve never been.”

“Maybe you’ll get the London office.” This is something he’s yearned for, even while knowing it’s impossible, but she shakes her head.

“Jeffery would never go.”

“He might change his mind.”

“I doubt it.”

David understands wanting something and being constrained from getting it. Even if Tyler were perfectly healthy, David doubts Eve would want to transplant the family overseas. She would find it daunting, having to figure out a new culture. Driving on the left side of the road would make her timid. Her courage comes in other ways, other places. Look how she is with the children. She’s never flinched once. “Ready to call it a day?” he asks.

Renée begins turning things off, the copier, the coffeemaker David’s secretary had set up on the credenza. “How early do you want to start tomorrow?” she asks.

“Want to say seven?” This is how they’ll manage, by extending the day on both ends. As soon as David gets home, he’ll fire up his laptop and try to catch up on his own workload.

“Deal.”

Outside in the hall, waiting for the elevator, she asks, “How long have you been married, David?”

“Almost eighteen years.” How is that possible? Almost half his lifetime.

“Wow. What’s the secret?”

It’s okay for him to share this. He’s not violating a confidence. “Sometimes I think it’s just inertia.”

She gives him a curious look. “It must be hard, living apart.”

The elevator arrives and they step inside. He jabs the button for the lobby and the doors close. “We try to make it work.”

“But it hasn’t?”

Renée’s a friend. She’s concerned. “It’s been tough.” He knows that somehow he’s crossed a line.

“I’m sorry.”

They ride the rest of the way in silence. The doors open to the brightly lit lobby, shining expanses of marble and smoky glass. They step out onto the pavement, into the warmth of the night. Buildings stand tall around them. Restaurants glow with fairy lights. A nearby door opens, releasing a swell of laughter. A bald man stands on the far corner, playing a saxophone that sends liquid notes skyward.

“There’s Jeffery,” she says, waving to a tall man standing in the doorway of the restaurant across the street. “Want to join us?”

He’s not in the mood for Jeffery’s company tonight, his politicking and grandstanding. “Maybe another time.”

“See you tomorrow.”

He watches her dart across the street. The saxophone player salutes her with an appreciative cascade of notes, and she laughs and waves. Renée steps into Jeffery’s arms, and they kiss.

He remembers the first time he kissed Eve. They’d been walking back from a movie one night, the green smell of growing things in the air, the moon sitting fat and full in the sky. They’d been talking about the film, trying to decide whether they’d liked it, when suddenly he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He wanted to feel her in his arms, feel the texture of her skin against his, taste her mouth. This girl, nothing else mattered. He’d pulled her toward him and she had come. Her lips had been soft, and they’d kissed for a long time, standing there on that sidewalk as cars drove past and honked, and the trees waved all around them. Until then, he hadn’t had any idea how lost he’d been.

Where does that leave him now?

He turns and heads down the street to the Metro.

THE WOLF

“P
ut it on.” Yoshi looks like crap, her face thin and her hands lying still. She looks like Kevin did, when he was so sick. She’s not even wearing a hat to cover her bald head. But her smile’s the same. “I want to see how it looks.”

This is a joke. Yoshi’s blind. She always ends their conversations with
See you later!
Which is another joke. “It’s on.” The mask is on his nightstand in the other room. The mailman had delivered it and his mom had brought it up and watched while he opened it. She’d laughed at the sight: Yoshi had cut the plastic in swirls to look like The Flash.

“Liar.”

How can she tell? She’s magic, this way. “I will.”

She pouts. “You don’t like it.”

“No, I do.” They’d argued about his old mask. He’d told her he
never wanted to wear one again and she had told him he had to.
Not if I don’t want to
, he’d answered, even though he’d felt like a baby saying it.

When Tyler was seven, Yoshi was ten. She told him XP kids only lived to be twenty.
You’re lying
, he’d said, knowing she wasn’t. XP kids didn’t lie. They were all in the same boat, so they never used fake words to talk about what was going on.
I thought you should know
, she’d said. Anger had boiled over. He’d found his mom in the laundry room. She’d barely had a chance to turn around when he punched her, made his hand a tight, hard ball and smacked her right in the arm. She’d grabbed him, wrapped her arms around him, and held on, rocking him.
Why didn’t you tell me?
He was crying so hard he was hiccupping.
It’s just a number
, she’d said.
Scientists are finding cures all the time
. All they had to do was wait.

“Yoshi,” he says, and scoots closer to the screen and lowers his voice. His mom and sister are downstairs, but he knows how sound travels in this house. “I met a girl.”

“Sure you did.”

“No, really. I did.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s interested. She’s always asking if he has a girlfriend. She tells him that he’s a real catch and that he shouldn’t settle for just anyone. “How?” she asks. “Online dating?”

“Her name is Holly. She just moved in next door.”

“Yeah? What’s she like?”

It’s hard to describe her. “She wants to be an actress.”

“She must be pretty.”

“She’s got blond hair and blue eyes.” He’s found her on Facebook and studied her profile pic. She has 487 friends, which is more than he has. She’s liked a bunch of movies he’d never heard of, and he’d written down the titles. Before he knew it, he’d pressed the
ADD FRIEND
button.

“What grade is she in?”

“Ninth,” he lies. “Same as me.”

“Wow. So what makes her so special?”