Let Me Whisper in Your Ear by Mary Jane Clark Page B

you as Mrs. Bronner. But I’ll try to remember to call you Maxine.”
    â€œLady Clairol helps a lot, I guess.” Maxine shrugged, pulling a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear.
    Alan Bronner put his arm around his wife. “You’re absolutely right, Laura. Max is as pretty as the day I met her, or should I say, the day I dialed that wrong number. That was the luckiest day of my life.”
    They all knew the story of how Maxine and Alan had first “connected.” Alan had actually been calling another girl and had mistakenly dialed a different number. Maxine Dzieskanowski answered. The two had clicked. At first the relationship was conducted entirely on the telephone. When Alan finally asked her for a date, Maxine met a ponytailed young man with a patch on the crotch of his jeans at her front door. The young man went on to start a basement computer company—a company that grew to employ thirty-five people at offices in Mahwah. The Bronners could easily have moved from Cliffside Park to a bigger house in a more affluent New Jersey suburb. But they chose to stay where they were, their ties to the community very strong.
    â€œCome on, everybody. It’s time for the Wigilia, ” called Maxine. The optalek was broken, the meal savored amid warm conversation and laughter. When Maxine brought out dessert—warm, heart-shaped honey spice cake, a compote of dried fruit, nut pudding and a poppyseed coffee cake—Laura groaned.
    â€œI can’t eat one more thing.”
    But she filled her plate anyway.
    After dinner, Maxine sat down at the piano in the living room. Playing since she was five years old, she was an accomplished pianist. Laura joined in with the others and sang Christmas songs enthusiastically. Then they opened presents.
    Laura sat next to Maxine on the upholstered love seat in the corner of the room, watching and enjoying the oohs and aahs as the gifts were opened.
    â€œSo how are things at KEY News, Laura?”
    â€œActually, things are going pretty well.”
    â€œStill doing the obituaries?”
    â€œYes. But I’m trying to get a new job, at Hourglass. ”
    Maxine’s eyes widened. “Oh, Laura, that would be wonderful for you! We watch that show every week. It’s terrific.”
    Laura nodded. “I’ve come up with an idea for a segment that the executive producer really likes.”
    Maxine waited.
    â€œPalisades Amusement Park and the death of Tommy Cruz.”
    Maxine’s face darkened.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    Maxine shook her head. “That was a terrible, tragic time. I remember the search for that little boy. It seemed to go on forever. Day after day, week after week, they found nothing. I remember Tommy’s best friend Ricky Potenza had a nervous breakdown, poor child. He was never the same. The family eventually moved away, but I still get a Christmas card from his mother.”
    Maxine looked away for a moment, seeming to collect herself.
    â€œGradually, the hubbub died down,” she continued. “But for the Cruzes, the nightmare went on and on, all these years. To this day, when I see Felipe in church or bump into Marta at the supermarket, I don’t know what to say to them. I hope now, at least, there is some closure for them.”
    â€œYes and no,” said Laura. “The police are opening up the investigation again.”
    â€œI’d think the trail would be dead after all these years.”

17
    Christmas Day
    N OT WANTING TO spend the night at her father’s house after dinner with the Bronners, Laura drove back into Manhattan and slept at her own apartment.
    On Christmas morning, she was putting her gaily wrapped gifts for her father into a red Bloomingdale’s shopping bag to carry with her back out to New Jersey when her apartment telephone rang.
    â€œMerry Christmas,” whispered the voice.
    â€œFrancheska?”
    â€œUh-hum.”
    â€œWhy are you