The Perfect Neighbors (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Newport Cove Listserv Digest

*A Reminder: Salsa Lessons!

Just a reminder, there are plenty of spaces left for our Saturday night lessons at the community center! Let's see those hips swivel! —Sincerely, Shannon Dockser, Newport Cove Manager

*Re: A Reminder: Salsa Lessons!

Not even gonna touch this one. —Frank Fitzgibbons, Forsythia Lane

•  •  •

“What was it like?” Kellie asked. “I mean, if it's not too painful to dredge all that up.”

She was huddled on Susan's couch, clutching a throw pillow to her middle, ignoring the tea and croissants Susan had set out on the coffee table.

Susan took a sip of cinnamon tea before answering. “It was the worst pain I've ever gone through,” she said simply.

Kellie nodded. Her face looked drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Imagining the two of them together, not even in bed,
though that was wrenching . . . just laughing, and hugging. Being together,” Susan said. “There was something kind of, I don't know, perverse about knowing their joy was the source of my pain.”

Kellie inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “Jason knows I didn't love Miller,” she said. “I explained it was a crush that got out of hand . . . but it's still a huge betrayal. I don't even know if it was a true emotional affair, because Miller didn't really know me. He knew the woman who was always dressed up and smiling. It's easy to be that person for a few hours a day. But he didn't understand the messier parts of me, all of the things you can hide when it's not a real relationship.”

“Have you talked to Miller lately?” Susan asked.

Kellie shook her head. “I've been calling in sick to work. I don't know if I'm going to tell him I can't talk to him anymore or just . . . disappear.”

“How do you feel about that?” Susan asked.

“A week ago it would have been devastating,” Kellie said. “Now? It's nothing.” She hesitated. “Almost nothing. I miss the feeling I had . . . of someone thinking I was pretty, that I was special. That thrill of the new. But it wasn't about Miller. It was about those sensations.”

Susan nodded slowly. It was the difference between a crush and true love. Randall wouldn't—or couldn't—give up Daphne, but Kellie was going to walk away easily.

“Should I quit work?” Kellie asked.

Susan thought about how Jason would feel, knowing Kellie would be near Miller every day at the office. “Yes,” she said.

“Yeah,” Kellie said. She drew up her knees and rested her chin on them. “I'll call tomorrow. Maybe in a few months I can join another office . . . I don't know.”

Susan leaned forward. “Do you really want to know what I think?” she asked.

Kellie cringed. “Of me?” she asked.

Susan reached out and touched Kellie's arm. “No, honey,
that isn't where I was going. I was going to say I think you need to do everything you can to show Jason how much you love him. It's going to take time. But he'll come around.”

“I was thinking I'd start cooking him special dinners,” Kellie said.

“Little gestures like that are good,” Susan said. “And you could arrange a date night once a week. Maybe a getaway down the line.”

“I would love that,” Kellie said. “I've been remembering all the reasons why I fell in love with Jason. His kindness, his steadiness . . . He hasn't changed. Maybe that was part of it; we've been together forever. And it was just the . . . monotony of being with the same person day in, day out. Talking about who needs to take the kids to soccer practice. Wanting some orange juice and realizing Jason had two glasses and it was all gone. The excitement disappeared.”

“So you'll work to get it back,” Susan said. “Lingerie. You need to go buy some.”

Kellie smiled. “Jason would love that.” Her smile dropped away. “Or he would have.”

Pain washed over her face and Susan could see her swallow hard. “I know this is hard for Jason, but what I never realized is how hard it would be for me, too. To know how badly I've hurt him.”

Susan dropped her eyes to her teacup. She had never before thought of what Randall might be enduring. She'd been too busy imagining his joy.

She'd been so immersed in her own agony she'd never considered the fact that the pain of their divorce might have affected him. Randall was a decent man; a kind man. He'd always carried spiders outside, rather than squashing them. Maybe he'd invited her along on Halloween because he still cared about her feelings, not because he cared what other people thought.

“Do you really think I should buy lingerie, or is it too soon?” Kellie asked.

Susan tucked away her new revelation, to turn over and consider more carefully later, and looked back at her friend.

“Do it. All that effort you put into looking good for Miller, into thinking about him?” Susan said. “Turn it on your husband.”

“Yeah,” Kellie said. “I'm going to try.”

“That's my girl,” Susan said. “Try to make this the best thing that ever happened to your marriage, odd as that sounds now. Now eat a croissant or I'll hate you because you're getting too skinny.”

She handed one to Kellie, who broke off a corner and nibbled at it.

“So I've got a question for you,” Susan said. “I met this guy at your birthday party . . . Peter?”

Kellie furrowed her brow, then her face cleared. “Oh,
Peter
! Yeah, he was one of Jason's fraternity brothers in college. I didn't see him at the party, but Jason must have invited him. I know they've gotten back in touch. Peter moved back to the area a few weeks ago, after his div— Oh my God!”

“Settle down,” Susan said, laughing.

“No, but he's a really good guy! Did you talk to him? Of course you did, that's why you're asking.”

“We did,” Susan confirmed. “He asked for my number, but he hasn't called yet.”

“Well, it's been, what, only two days?” Kellie said.

“I know,” Susan said.

“I'll give you the scoop,” Kellie said. “He has one kid, but a bit older.” She furrowed her brow. “Twelve, thirteen, maybe? A daughter. He got married young, that I remember, because Jason and I went to the wedding. His wife was gorgeous but she seemed like a cold fish. That's my completely biased take from talking to her for thirty seconds at her wedding, but if you're not all smiling and happy at your wedding, when would you be? Jason really liked him, but they lost touch for a while even though Peter didn't live that far away. I got the
sense his wife was kind of controlling and they just did stuff with her family and friends.”

“Are you making that up?” Susan asked, giving Kellie a nudge.

“Nope,” Kellie said. “So, will this be your first post-divorce date?”

“If he calls,” Susan said.

“When he calls,” Kellie amended. “You're the perfect woman. How could he not call you? He's counting the minutes. He read
The Rules
and knows he has to wait a few days or he'll scare you off.”

Susan rolled her eyes and handed Kellie the rest of the croissant. “Eat,” she ordered. “Then I'm going to take a couple more hours off work so we can go lingerie shopping.”

Kellie got in the last word: “Only if it's for both of us.”

•  •  •

There was no worse pain than knowing your child was suffering, Gigi thought as she stood outside Melanie's door, listening.

She'd been terrified that Melanie would shut her out again. But after she'd cried, Melanie had fallen asleep, even though it was still morning. When she'd awoken an hour later, Gigi had brought her a tray of chamomile tea and toast.

Joe was staying home today, having canceled his campaign events. Gigi didn't know where Zach had gone. She didn't care, as long as he was out of the house.

“Sweetie?” Gigi asked, tapping on Melanie's partially opened door. Her daughter was still a lump under the covers, but at least this time her head was showing.

“Can I get you anything else?” Gigi asked. Most of the tea was gone, but the toast was untouched.

“No,” Melanie said.

Gigi hesitated. Normally she'd give Melanie space, figuring that was what Melanie wanted, but she went against that
instinct and sat down on the edge of her daughter's bed. She wished she had a manual for times like these. When Melanie had been young, it was so easy to find solutions. After Melanie broke one of her new crayons at age three, Gigi had used a match to soften the wax and weld it back together. When Melanie had been left out of a birthday party at age ten, Gigi had taken her out for a special dinner and movie.

But how did you guide a troubled, defiant teenager?

Melanie was quiet for a moment, then: “Zach told me he thought I was pretty. He said if I just”—Melanie's voice broke but she continued—“if I just wore some makeup and nicer clothes, I'd be a knockout. So why'd he say ‘I wouldn't be interested in
her
' like that?”

Gigi closed her eyes, wanting to absorb her daughter's hurt. “Because he's a horrible person,” Gigi said. “I wish I could give you another reason, something to make you feel better, but there's something wrong with Zach.”

“Why don't you and Julia ever have to diet?” Melanie asked. “Why am I the only fat one in the family?”

“Sweetie, you're not,” Gigi said. “And you are pretty. You're beautiful.”

“Don't say on the inside,” Melanie said. “No one cares about that.”

“Inside and out,” Gigi said.

She wondered if she should tell Melanie about her shoplifting arrest. She thought about the weight-loss book under Melanie's bed, and that sad, crumpled lunch bag of carrots and yogurt. Melanie needed to know that everyone struggled; that even her own mother—her aggravating, bossy mother—had stumbled and fallen and gotten back up again. Soon, Gigi decided, but not today.

“Did he ever kiss you, Melanie?” Gigi asked. “Please tell me.”

Melanie shook her head. “But he put his arm around me when we watched the movie.” She lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes. “Is he still going to live here?” she asked.

“No,” Gigi said. “And not just because of what happened to you . . . He made me feel uncomfortable from the start.”

“He's a jerk,” Melanie said.

“Worse than that,” Gigi said.

“Do you know when we went to serve dinner to the homeless on Thanksgiving, he didn't do any work? He was supposed to peel potatoes but I saw him checking his iPhone the whole time,” Melanie said.

“I'm not surprised,” Gigi said.

Melanie sighed. “Can I have some more tea?” she asked.

Gigi stood up. She wanted to reach out and smooth her daughter's hair, but she decided not to press her luck. Instead she gave Melanie's foot a quick squeeze through the blanket.

“Of course,” she said. “I'll be right back.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Before Newport Cove

DISBELIEF HAD FILLED HARRY'S
eyes. He hadn't even realized Tessa had left the house, or that the woman now standing before him was no longer the same person who had cut up carrots and boiled noodles for his dinner.

“Here,” she'd said, handing him the photograph of Addison. She shuddered as she passed it to her husband; the glossy paper was imbued with evil.

“Where did you get this?” Harry had asked. So she told him the story again. It had just tumbled out of her, without inflection or emotion, like she was reciting a list of things for him to pick up at the grocery store. But then her hands started to shake. They fluttered wildly, like trapped birds that had been attached to her wrists and were desperate to be freed.

“I'm going to be sick,” she'd said. She bent over the trash can and retched.

Her physical state, more than her words, seemed to convince Harry. He leaped up from his chair and ran outside.
Tessa had followed him as he circled her car, checking the rear bumper. “There isn't even a scratch,” he'd said.

So maybe it hadn't happened after all. Had it only been a dream? The car blurred as Tessa's vision swam and she reached out an arm to steady herself against the vehicle. But the photograph! Harry was still holding it. Tessa stared at that rectangle with the jagged edge, wondering if she was losing her mind.

Harry bent down and looked under her Toyota. He pulled out his iPhone and aimed it at a certain spot, apparently using the screen's light for a better look. Just as she had done earlier in Danny's basement. When his face came into view again, something had changed in his eyes.

“What is it?” Tessa had whispered. Was Danny still—
No, no
, her mind recoiled at the thought. Besides, she'd seen him lying in the driveway, motionless.

“I need to think,” he'd said. He circled the car, his face intent. Tessa watched him pace, feeling oddly numb, her mind's bandwidth taken up by the work it required to keep track of Harry's movements. Shock. She knew she was in shock.

“Take a shower and seal your clothes into a plastic bag, even the shoes you were wearing,” Harry had told her. “I'll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” Tessa had asked, but Harry merely went inside, came back out with his keys, and moved her Toyota into the garage. She was still standing there when Harry pulled out in his Honda, the one they rarely used because the Toyota was roomier.

Harry pulled up alongside her and rolled down the window. “Tessa,” he'd said urgently. “The shower, now. Go!”

Tessa had nodded.

“Don't answer the phone. Don't answer the door. Just wait until I get back.”

Shower. Plastic bag. Tessa's mind had latched on to those words as if they were life preservers. She'd think only of the tasks ahead, and block everything else out. She turned and walked into the house and headed for the shower as Harry pulled onto the street, heading in the direction of Danny Briggs's house.