Lie in Plain Sight by Maggie Barbieri Page A

microwave and placed it on the table. She was one to talk. “Here. Eat this.”
    He dived into the food like a man on death row eating his last meal. “I forgot how much I love your gravy.”
    â€œIt’s all about the roux,” she said, pouring them both a glass of wine and joining him at the table with her own plate. “Listen, Cal. I’m not kidding. This has to stop.”
    He looked up from his plate long enough to give her a Bronx cheer. “Says who?”
    â€œSays your wife.”
    He dropped his fork onto his plate and gave her his undivided attention.
    â€œShe had a meltdown during spin class, and someone overheard her telling a friend that she thinks you’re cheating.”
    â€œHuh,” he said.
    â€œWe’re done. The thought of her crying at the gym is not one I want to carry around.”
    â€œYou feel sorry for her? After everything?” Cal asked.
    â€œI feel sorry for any woman who is saddled with a lying, cheating asshole for a husband.”
    He looked, at that moment, as if he felt coming here had been a huge mistake, the delicious gravy notwithstanding.
    â€œAre you sleeping with someone else? Other women?” Maeve asked.
    His denial was so vociferous and swift that it had to be a lie; she knew him well, something he failed to take into account. “No! How could you even imply that?” He pushed his plate away. “You really know how to break a mood, Maeve.”
    She didn’t believe him but that didn’t matter. “It’s my gift,” she said. “More potatoes?”
    He crossed his arms over his chest. “No. No more potatoes.”
    â€œLost your appetite?” she asked.
    He had the same expression on his face that Heather used to get when Maeve put her in time-out. His plans for the evening changed, he pushed his chair back. “I’m gonna go. Will you bring Heather over later?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Cal, I won’t bring Heather over later because you’re in a snit because I won’t sleep with you and you refuse to wait for her. I won’t bring Heather over because I’m completely exhausted from work and from lying awake at night wondering where Taylor Dvorak may have gone. I won’t bring Heather over because it’s your responsibility to make sure she gets to your house when she is supposed to be there.” She realized she was yelling. “I won’t.”
    He grabbed his sweatshirt on the way out. “Remember when I said that you had changed?”
    Maeve was halfway between the kitchen and the front door, her hands wound up in a dish towel.
    â€œWell, you haven’t,” he said, pulling the sweatshirt over his head. “You’re exactly the same.” He slammed the screen door on the way out, not unlike an adolescent being sent to his room.
    Maeve watched him drive off in the minivan and, without a second thought, returned to her leftovers, scraping his uneaten food onto her plate and having herself a feast.

 
    CHAPTER 8
    Jo found a daycare in town that would take Jack for the hours she needed and came to work the next day complaining that her husband, Doug, was none too happy that the stay-at-home wife and mother he thought he married was really someone who, if she spent another minute pushing the baby’s swing at the park and didn’t go back to work at least part-time, might go completely insane.
    â€œHe’s kind of old-fashioned,” Jo said, stating the obvious. Maeve had known that from the moment she met the guy, touting Jo’s pot roast on her single friend’s behalf; that was all he needed to hear to make a beeline for the divorcée, and it wasn’t long before they were engaged, getting married, and having the baby Jo always wanted. “But I told him that I would be a better wife if I could get out of the house for a few hours every day.”
    Maeve turned and