little shops, the hardware store and local ice-cream parlor, its white clapboard town hall and annual Fourth of July parades. Right off, I knew we’d found our home.
After picking up a triple venti latte with a blueberry scone at Starbs, I drove down to Princeton and parked my Lexus in its usual space next to Chloe’s all-white Mercedes. Sitting in my car, I tried to reach Griff at his various numbers—home, office, cell—again. And again , I was sent directly to voice mail, just like when I attempted to reach him in San Francisco.
An inner voice whispered, Your marriage is in trouble.
Be quiet, you , I whispered back, tossing my phone into my purse and heading to work. Honestly, my inner voice had no idea when to shut up. So rude!
Interiors by Chloe was on the first floor of the Stevens Building, across the hall from Arthur B. Winchester Properties, where my friend Elaine was one of two real estate agents. When she wasn’t scrolling the Internet, she was lounging on Chloe’s soft couches and flipping through our copies of Town & Country , which is exactly what she was doing when I opened the door and found her bare feet on the antique coffee table, a bag of Oreos in her lap.
“Shoot.” She sat back and closed her eyes, placing a hand on her rather ample chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you were Chloe.”
I put the Starbucks on my desk and dropped my keys. “Do you know what she would have done if she’d caught you like this?”
Elaine brushed the crumbs off the unflattering navy pantsuit Arthur B. Winchester insisted she wear and collected them on the magazine. “You know what? After what I’ve been through, I’m not sure I’d care.” Carrying the magazine over to a wastepaper basket, she dumped in the crumbs and said, “Got a call from the cops at two A.M. this morning. Taylor was rounded up in an underage drinking party.”
“You’re kidding me.” I slumped at my desk and popped open the Starbucks. Elaine had three sons, two of whom were star athletes and students. It was as though Taylor, the youngest, was trying to make up for the older two by skipping school, drinking, and repeatedly getting in trouble with the authorities. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know. Gerry had a long talk with the chief of police and maybe, just maybe, they’ll let him go with a warning. But you know how they like to make examples of kids, especially at the start of the school year.”
“How about the coach?”
“Oh, yeah. Tay’s kicked off the football team for the duration. Definitely.”
Elaine and I sat in silence, she eating her Oreos and I sipping coffee, mulling over our separate worries.
“This might seem like a strange question,” I ventured, “but has Gerry ever cheated on you?”
She coughed on her cookie. “Why?” She coughed again. “Do you know something I don’t?” Recovered, she dove into the bag for another Oreo.
“No. I was thinking of Griff.” I paused, debating only for a second whether what I was about to confide would be considered a violation of our marriage. “This morning while I was doing the wash from his trip to San Francisco, I came across two wrappers for condoms in the pockets of his khakis.”
Elaine stopped mid-bite. “You’re noth therious ,” she said, her mouth full.
“And, also, a receipt for a $200 dinner he had the night of Laura’s accident, even though he told me he was in his hotel room, sleeping.”
She thrust out the Oreos. “Take one.”
“No thanks.”
“I’m telling you, they help. They’re like magic.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I couldn’t eat right now if I wanted to.” I flipped through the calendar until I found last Thursday, the day Laura hit the state trooper. “I just can’t believe he lied to me.”
“Oh, honey.” She rolled up the bag and tossed it onto the table, releasing a shower of crumbs that I prayed were gone by the time Chloe arrived. “It’s probably not as bad
After picking up a triple venti latte with a blueberry scone at Starbs, I drove down to Princeton and parked my Lexus in its usual space next to Chloe’s all-white Mercedes. Sitting in my car, I tried to reach Griff at his various numbers—home, office, cell—again. And again , I was sent directly to voice mail, just like when I attempted to reach him in San Francisco.
An inner voice whispered, Your marriage is in trouble.
Be quiet, you , I whispered back, tossing my phone into my purse and heading to work. Honestly, my inner voice had no idea when to shut up. So rude!
Interiors by Chloe was on the first floor of the Stevens Building, across the hall from Arthur B. Winchester Properties, where my friend Elaine was one of two real estate agents. When she wasn’t scrolling the Internet, she was lounging on Chloe’s soft couches and flipping through our copies of Town & Country , which is exactly what she was doing when I opened the door and found her bare feet on the antique coffee table, a bag of Oreos in her lap.
“Shoot.” She sat back and closed her eyes, placing a hand on her rather ample chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you were Chloe.”
I put the Starbucks on my desk and dropped my keys. “Do you know what she would have done if she’d caught you like this?”
Elaine brushed the crumbs off the unflattering navy pantsuit Arthur B. Winchester insisted she wear and collected them on the magazine. “You know what? After what I’ve been through, I’m not sure I’d care.” Carrying the magazine over to a wastepaper basket, she dumped in the crumbs and said, “Got a call from the cops at two A.M. this morning. Taylor was rounded up in an underage drinking party.”
“You’re kidding me.” I slumped at my desk and popped open the Starbucks. Elaine had three sons, two of whom were star athletes and students. It was as though Taylor, the youngest, was trying to make up for the older two by skipping school, drinking, and repeatedly getting in trouble with the authorities. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know. Gerry had a long talk with the chief of police and maybe, just maybe, they’ll let him go with a warning. But you know how they like to make examples of kids, especially at the start of the school year.”
“How about the coach?”
“Oh, yeah. Tay’s kicked off the football team for the duration. Definitely.”
Elaine and I sat in silence, she eating her Oreos and I sipping coffee, mulling over our separate worries.
“This might seem like a strange question,” I ventured, “but has Gerry ever cheated on you?”
She coughed on her cookie. “Why?” She coughed again. “Do you know something I don’t?” Recovered, she dove into the bag for another Oreo.
“No. I was thinking of Griff.” I paused, debating only for a second whether what I was about to confide would be considered a violation of our marriage. “This morning while I was doing the wash from his trip to San Francisco, I came across two wrappers for condoms in the pockets of his khakis.”
Elaine stopped mid-bite. “You’re noth therious ,” she said, her mouth full.
“And, also, a receipt for a $200 dinner he had the night of Laura’s accident, even though he told me he was in his hotel room, sleeping.”
She thrust out the Oreos. “Take one.”
“No thanks.”
“I’m telling you, they help. They’re like magic.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I couldn’t eat right now if I wanted to.” I flipped through the calendar until I found last Thursday, the day Laura hit the state trooper. “I just can’t believe he lied to me.”
“Oh, honey.” She rolled up the bag and tossed it onto the table, releasing a shower of crumbs that I prayed were gone by the time Chloe arrived. “It’s probably not as bad
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