Untold Story (29 page)

“Are you looking for something special?”

“Something to take back to my wife.”

“My name’s Amber. I’ll let you browse. Just let me know if you need help with anything.”

Grabowski picked up a beaded cardigan. “This is nice.”

“Oh, that’s pretty,” said Amber. “It’s a safe bet. What size is your wife?”

He considered. “She’s tall and slim. Size ten, maybe.”

“That a UK ten? That’d be a size six here. Are you staying over with Mrs. Jackson?”

“I am.” She was going to be talkative. He might get something. But maybe his timing was off. Wouldn’t it be better to wait another day or so, then tie it up immediately with a swift visit to Lydia’s house?

“Lovely,” said Amber. “Did you meet my friend Lydia? Mrs. Jackson invited her over for scones.”

“I did. We had the famous scones.” He walked over to a rack of long gowns and picked one out.

“That’s my favorite,” said Amber. She was a pocket-size blonde, a little bland, a little babbly. “Lydia has that very one. She looks absolutely stunning in it. What kind of coloring does your wife have? Does she have dark hair?”

He lifted the gown and examined it front and back. This Amber was definitely a talker. And she’d repeat this conversation to Lydia the second she saw her. “My wife’s a blonde,” he said, “very pale.”

“Ah,” said Amber, “well, what about this blue taffeta, here, take a look. What do you think?”

It would be better, as well, to get something on tape. He’d have to buy a digital recorder and have it switched on in his pocket. He should have thought of that already.
For a ha’penny worth of tar,
his mother would say. Well, he wasn’t going to spoil this ship. He was going to make sure it set sail.

“That’s very nice,” he said. “Could I have a look at some others?”

Amber showed him all the gowns, pointing out details, naming fabrics, explaining how they sat at the neckline. “Lydia’s one is stunning, though. Did you have a good chat about London?”

He evaluated two dresses distractedly, holding them up for comparison. He wasn’t going to show any interest in her friend. When she relayed the conversation there would be nothing to make Lydia twitch.

“What do you think?” she said. “Do you have an instinct about what would be right?”

He had an instinct that what would be right would be to wait until Wednesday afternoon. If Lydia had an initial suspicion he’d have done nothing by then to strengthen it, quite the opposite, stayed right out of her way. She took every Wednesday afternoon off work and spent it here, in the boutique. That gave him a clear run at the old woman at the dog place. If he played it right he’d get something useful out of her, a quote from the employer. Then he’d go to the house. Four more days and he’d have what he needed. And not long after that this town would be on the map for all time. This was Chappaquiddick, Roswell, and Dealey Plaza rolled into one. This was twenty-four hours a day, worldwide saturation coverage.

“I can’t decide,” he said to Amber. “I’d better think about it.”

“Oh, please do,” said Amber, smiling sweetly. “It’s never good to rush into things.”

Chapter Twenty-three

After brunch at Tevis’s house on Sunday, her boyfriend and Suzie’s husband began dragooning the kids for a hike in the woods. Lydia wondered if she should go with them. She was restless. She didn’t want to sit still. But she couldn’t make up her mind to get out of her chair.

“Maya,” said Mike. “Get your ass in gear. We’re hitting the trail.”

“Why can’t I stay here?” said Maya. “I hate walking.”

Mike grinned at her. He was tall with sandy hair and freckles and he always had the bit between his teeth. Just looking at him right now made Lydia even more exhausted. “Don’t make me cuff you,” he said.

Maya turned to Lydia. “Always the same lame old jokes.”

“Old ones are the best ones,” said Mike, slapping his thigh. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Oh God, Dad,” said Maya. “You really do live in the Stone Age.”

“LAPD answer—we don’t know, but give us five minutes with the chicken and we’ll find out.”

“I’m staying here,” said Maya, tucking her legs up on the chair.

Suzie came out of the kitchen onto the deck and stacked more dishes. “Has Steve gone ahead?”

“He’s loading the troopers into the wagon.” Mike put his hands on Maya’s shoulders. “Whaddya say we take Rufus with us too, if it’s okay by Lydia?”

“It’s okay with me,” said Lydia. Mike, she could see, was trying to steer Maya away from a confrontation with her mother.

“You, young lady,” said Suzie. “Scram.”

Maya opened her mouth but Mike bent down and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. “Come on, Rufus,” he said, “we’re going for a walk.”

Rufus was glued to the top of Lydia’s feet. She pulled them out from under him. “Go,” she said. He picked himself up and moved five inches to curl up over her toes. “Okay, stay.”

When they’d seen the men and children off, Suzie, Amber, and Tevis rejoined Lydia at the table.

“Wasn’t Carson supposed to come too?” said Tevis.

“We sort of had an argument last night,” said Lydia.

“Oh dear, is everything okay?” Amber looked at her anxiously.

“It’s fine,” said Lydia. She smiled to cut the questions. “We both needed a bit of air today.”

“The guy from the bed-and-breakfast came in yesterday,” said Amber. “Looking for something for his wife. He seemed nice.”

Everyone, thought Lydia, seemed nice to Amber. She was indiscriminate in her liking. And if Grabowski was poking around in Amber’s store, maybe Lydia wasn’t being paranoid. Maybe he was going all over town, asking questions. “What did you chat about?”

“Nothing, really,” said Amber. “He was interested in the evening gowns.”

All day yesterday, she had been trying to put it out of her mind, telling herself she was being stupid. On Friday she’d taken the day off work and followed him from morning until late afternoon. It was more difficult than she thought it would be to do that without him noticing. Many times she’d lost him because she’d held back too far, when there wasn’t much traffic around, and knowing her car was distinctive. Years ago, time after time, she’d had him on her tail and lost him with her reckless driving. This time she’d crept behind and all she’d seen was him driving around taking photographs of town signs and the river. She’d tried to make up her mind to stop torturing herself. By evening, of course, the doubt had crept back in. And now Amber was telling her that Grabowski had been sniffing around. Her first instincts had been correct.

“Which one did he buy?” said Lydia.

“He couldn’t choose,” said Amber. “He’s coming back next week. I told him best not to rush the decision.”

“Did he mention that we’d had tea together, with Mrs. Jackson?”

“He did. Or I asked him,” said Amber.

“What else did he say?” What she wanted to know was what Amber said. All the things that she had told Amber, she’d been getting so sloppy.

“Nothing really. Told me his wife’s a blonde. He was interested in the same dress you’ve got but I thought maybe it wouldn’t suit her coloring. I told him how fantastic you look in yours.”

“What else did you tell him?” said Lydia.

“You interested in this guy, Lydia?” said Tevis.

“What else did you tell him?” said Lydia. “I’m just curious, that’s all, because to tell you the truth, he didn’t seem like a nice man to me. He seemed a bit seedy.”

“Oh,” said Amber. “Was he? Well, he wasn’t there for long, and we talked��I talked—about the dresses.”

I failed all my exams, twice. Why had she told Amber that? Why did she give away information like that? How many other things had she told Amber and Esther and the others that Grabowski could piece together? My mother left when I was six. Only the other day she’d been telling Esther. Careless, stupid, witless. Carson’s dossier might be pretty thin but Grabowski’s would burst at the seams if he managed to gull all her friends. Her so-called friends.

“Lydia,” Tevis was saying. “Lydia, are you all right?”

They’d give her away. Why had she ever thought that wouldn’t happen?

“Lydia?”

Endless betrayal. Her life had been one endless betrayal. She could never, ever, trust anyone, and she should have learned that so long ago. On her honeymoon, which her husband spent making calls to his mistress. No, long before that. When her mother left her sitting on the stairs and walked out to the car, carrying her suitcase.

“Lydia,” said Suzie.

This was crazy thinking. She had to pull herself out of it. She should have gone for a walk with the kids. A long walk and then a swim.

“Do you want a glass of water?” said Amber.

Lydia shook her head.

“Do you have a headache?”

She looked at the three of them, the concern on all their faces. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’ve got a few things on my mind.”

“Thought we’d lost you,” said Suzie.

Lydia gave her a smile. She felt a blush of shame for the way she had just written off her friends.

There was a pause in the conversation. The breeze started to pick up, and the sun ducked behind a cloud. Tevis’s yard was small with a gravel and herb garden that smelled strongly of thyme when the wind blew. Beyond the herb garden was a little pond filled with rushes and water lilies.

“I’m going to stretch my legs,” said Lydia. She wandered down to the pond.

Last night Carson had come over. It was terrible. She’d made a terrible scene. Why had she done that? It had been so unnecessary. Rufus was fussing at her feet. He really could be trying sometimes. She picked him up. The whole of yesterday she’d been staving off thoughts that there was anything sinister in Grabowski’s presence. Running through the doubts, like a never-ending load of laundry, around and around in her head, faster and faster on a spin cycle, tangled, mashed up, blurred. By the time Carson had arrived she had been so on edge she flinched when he kissed her hello.

She had hardly been able to speak. “You know you can talk to me if you want to,” said Carson. “About anything. I’m here.”

She had wanted to scream at him then. No, she couldn’t talk to him about anything. She couldn’t tell him anything at all.

“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Really,” he said. The sincerity in his eyes was scalding, unbearable. “If you don’t want to let me know you, that’s fine. We’ll carry on as we are. But there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you. I hope you know that, Lydia.”

“What would you do for me?” she spat. It was a stupid thing that he’d said. “What would you really do?”

He took her hand. “Try me,” he said gently.

“Would you leave everything?” she said. She was practically shouting. “Would you leave your home, your job, your friends?” He didn’t realize, she had to make him realize, that when he said something like that he had to mean it. “Would you sacrifice everything if you had to, to be with me? I don’t think so.” She snatched her hand away. If Grabowski was going to expose her, then that would change the rest of his life. That’s if he stayed the course, which he wouldn’t, when it came down to it. If she had to take off suddenly, would he come with her, without any explanation, at a moment’s notice? She wasn’t foolish enough to think that. What if she did explain? But no, it was hopeless.

He tried to answer but she wouldn’t let him. “It’s all cheap talk. We have a nice time together. We sleep together. It’s company for both of us. But that’s it. Don’t go talking about how there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me, because you don’t know. You’ve got no idea.”

She was trembling. She wanted him to wrap her up in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted to fill the hollow of his neck with her tears. If he said to her now, you have to tell me everything, she would let it all come tumbling out. Everything. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Whatever happened would happen. She was sick of it, sick of trying to control every last little thing.

He didn’t say a word. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the ceiling.

After a while, when she already knew it was too late and the moment had gone, he said, “I’m a serious person, Lydia. When are you going to start treating me like one? I don’t want to play any games.”

She cried then, and he held her but the distance between them was vast, too great to fill with her tears. How could she ever explain herself ? If she tried, how could he possibly understand? It wasn’t his failing. Perhaps one person could never understand another. And in her case it was too much to ask of any human being.

She went back to the deck, where Amber was talking about Phil, recounting where they’d been on their date.

“So,” said Suzie, “you think this is going to be a regular thing?”

“Last night at dinner,” said Amber, “he was talking and I was listening to him, and making comments, you know, back and forth.”

“That’s called a conversation,” said Tevis.

“But I wasn’t really in the conversation,” said Amber. “I was just looking in on it and thinking, wow, that conversation sounds dull. I hope that woman knows what she’s doing. I hope she doesn’t get landed with that guy who’s sitting there talking about his IBS.”