Social Lives (40 page)

Jacks felt herself gasp. This was real, it was really happening. David had dug a grave for all of them.

“Mr. Halstead? . . . I'm here at your house, and I have a package for you. Unfortunately, I have instructions not to leave until I have delivered it in person.”

Jacks could hear David yelling on the other end, but the man kept talking, his voice hushed. Then he issued an order.

The man listened for a moment, then held the phone into the air. “Could you please say hello to your husband?”

Jacks did not hesitate. “I'm here, David.” Then she paused for moment. “With Beth.”

The man ended the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

Minutes went by, or at least that was how long it seemed to Jacks as she stood there, waiting and thinking through her options. “Where's my dog?” she asked.

“He's taking a walk. Couldn't wait to get out of that collar.”

Jacks drew a hand to her mouth as she thought about Chester out there on the main roads, and yet she was helpless. All over again, she was helpless. “He'll get run over!” she yelled.

“Not if he's smart.”

They stayed that way for minutes more, until the anger turned to resignation. It was so familiar, the fear, rage, then finally, the acceptance that nothing could be done. That the situation was out of her hands. All these months, she had fought to avoid this. The search for answers, the affair with Barlow. But now it was too late.

The sound of the back door brought the man to his feet. He looked at Jacks.

“Jacks? Where the hell are you?”

It was Eva. She had the code for the gate, knew where the key was hidden. And she never knocked.

This was the only chance, and Jacks took it. “In here,” she called out.

The man gathered his things, then walked toward the foyer. He seemed unsure of what to do, not having calculated on a nosy friend. The suburbs were generally places of complete isolation.

When Eva entered the foyer, she found them standing there in an eerie silence. Beads of sweat were falling from Jacks's face.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” Eva said whimsically, though she knew something was very wrong.

“Just a package for David. He's going to come back later.” Jacks walked to the door and opened it. The man hesitated, but then followed.

Before he left, he looked Jacks in the eye. “Tell your husband I'll try another day.”

Jacks pushed the door closed and locked it. Then she pressed her hands against the glass panels that flanked its sides and watched until the car disappeared down the driveway.

“Good Lord” was all Eva said as Jacks fell to the floor. She was gasping for air.

“Okay, sweetie, he's gone. He's gone. Go slow, sweetie. Slow.”

Eva sat on the floor beside her friend and waited until Jacks caught her breath. Then she asked about Beth.

Jacks got up off the floor and raced for the stairs. Eva followed. They went to Beth's room and found her fast asleep.

“She's fine,” Eva whispered. “Now tell me what the hell is happening here? Should we call the police?”

Jacks pulled the door closed. “No, please,” she said.

Eva shook her head. “Then you're going to tell me everything. Right here, right now.”

“I can't. Please, you don't want to get involved in this.”

But Eva grabbed her, holding her so tight she couldn't break free. “I already know about Barlow, sweetie. Why don't we start with that?”

Jacks backed away and looked at Eva, studying her face. There was not a trace of judgment, only profound concern, and Jacks felt the tears stinging against her skin. “How long have you known?”

“Since the night of the party.”

“That was the first night.”

“Okay.”

“There's a reason, Eva. Things I haven't told anyone.”

Eva sighed. “That needs to change. Start from the beginning.”

 

 

 

 

 

S
ARA WAS IN THE
kitchen, doing what she always seemed to be doing when her daughter was home from school—fighting with Roy.

“Nanna!” she called, though it killed her to do it. This was her time to spend with Annie, it was the good time. Lunch, a little snuggle by the TV.
Dora
was on, and Annie liked to doze off in her mother's arms. Now, it would be Nanna who would have the privilege of her child's sweet company while she haggled over the cost of tiles and wood stain. Not even her recent resignation that this would someday be over could help ease the hint of anguish as she handed Annie to Nanna and watched them disappear through the doorway.

“Okay, so what were you saying?” Sara asked, her hands on her hips and her blood pressure slowly rising.

But Roy didn't get a chance to answer.

“Hold on—someone's at the door.” Sara left Roy in the kitchen while she ran to the back of the house. She was expecting nothing but more construction misery. Instead, she found Ernest Barlow.

“Hello, friend,” he said, smiling broadly.

Sara accepted a peck on the cheek before stepping aside and letting him in.

“What are you doing here? Did we have a playdate?”

Barlow shook his head. “No. I let Marta get Mellie today. I have a surprise for you.”

Sara smiled. Just the sight of Barlow almost made her forget the troubles that were waiting for her in the other room.

“I love surprises! What is it?”

Barlow waved his hand out the door and a short moment later a second man appeared. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, neat but not exactly Barlow's type. Sara was curious.

“Meet Frank,” Barlow said, stepping aside so they could shake hands.

“Hello, Frank. Good to meet you.” Sara shook his hand, then looked quizzically at Barlow.

“Frank is an old buddy of mine. Worked on a few of our houses.”

Frank smiled. “Just a few.”

“I don't understand,” Sara said, leading them into the mudroom and closing the door to keep out the frigid air.

“Frank is your surprise.” Barlow was smiling now as he raised his eyebrows. It was clear he was enjoying this.

“Frank is my surprise?”

“Frank has a few months free, and he would love to take over your construction.”

Sara stopped smiling. This was too much. “How? I mean, we've got all these contracts with the subs, and Roy has half our budget tied up.”

Frank was the one smiling now. “Oh, nothing's impossible. Let me have a conversation with Roy. I'm sure there's something we can work out.”

“I'll have to check with my husband, see what it's going to cost.”

“We'll make it work. Is this Roy person in the house?”

Sara pointed toward the kitchen. “He's in there.”

Frank bowed his head to excuse himself, then walked through the doorway, leaving Sara and Barlow alone in the mudroom.

“Barlow . . . ,” Sara started to say.

“Shhh. Don't say it. I'm not paying for your house. I'm just loaning you a very scrupulous and savvy contractor who will bend over backwards for you and charge you something reasonable. He owes me after three houses that nearly wiped me out.”

“You seem to be doing okay.” Sara's tone was sarcastic and this made Barlow smile. She never let him get away with a damned thing.

“Well . . . maybe not. But I'm sure we got hosed on at least one of them. This is all a big game, and now you get to play it standing on two feet.”

Sara thought about what he had just done, what he had given her. It wasn't money, but in many ways much more valuable. He'd lent her his name, his clout, and with it he was changing her life. She felt like crying.

“He will get this house finished in two months. Believe me. And you won't have to spend any more time dealing with it than you want to.”

“Huh! That would be none! I don't know what to say,” she said, the tears starting to form. No one had really understood what this house had been doing to her, how much she had come to hate every part of her days, except the moments with her child, and, lately, with Barlow.

Barlow was taken aback. “Sara, it's nothing.
Really.
”

“It is something. You have no idea. It really is.”

Not knowing what else to do, Barlow wrapped his arms around her, and she didn't stop him. He felt like a big lion, closing in around her, protecting her from the brutal world outside, and that was exactly what she needed, what she wanted, though it went against everything she believed about herself. Since moving to this town, she'd bitched plenty, cried plenty, but she got up every day ready to fight. She hadn't seen this rescue coming, hadn't known how much she'd wanted it. She would have survived Roy, and she never would have asked for help. Still, having someone give it to her anyway was powerful.

His hands were on her back, then on her face when she finally pulled away. He wiped away the tears with his soft fingers, but did not let go even after her cheeks were dry.

“I'm sorry,” Sara said. “I guess I didn't realize how miserable I've been.”

Barlow studied her, so honest and strong, but also vulnerable, and it moved him. As much as she had needed his help, he had needed this—this face she was letting him see in this very moment. It was one thing that was real, that he knew wouldn't suddenly morph into something else before his eyes, and he had nowhere to hide from the spell it was casting over him.

Sara saw it then, too, what had grown between them over the past several weeks, the friendship that had poured in to fill the gaping holes in both of their lives. It had happened so quickly, too quickly, and it scared her.

“Barlow . . . ,” she started to say, but he couldn't let her finish. He didn't want to hear all the reasons. He leaned closer and kissed her gently on the lips and she did not pull away. Not until he did.

“Barlow,” she started to say again, and this time he released his hands from her face.

“I know. Don't say it. It's why I feel the way I do right now. You're a good soul, Sara. I would only ruin that in you.”

She smiled then, sweetly, as she took his hand and pressed it between hers. “No, you wouldn't. You are not the corrupt man you think you are. And I wanted you to kiss me. I just can't kiss you back. And not because you would ruin me, but because I love my husband.”

Barlow nodded at her words, words he knew he would carry with him long after he left this room. He was a wretched old man to her unspoiled youth, and their connection had been grounded in a need to escape. He pulled his hand away and shoved it awkwardly into his pocket.

“I'm gonna go now. Why don't you find Annie and steal her from that despicable other woman.”

Sara sighed. “Oh, that will be
so
nice. Thank you, Barlow. For your friendship, for Frank.”

He was halfway out the door when he looked back at her. “Any time.”

He heard the door close behind him. That was it, the one and only moment he would have with her. She was untouchable; through all her doubts and worries about her life and her marriage, she knew who she was. Not even Wilshire could change that.

His car was still warm when he climbed back inside. And as he turned on the ignition, he heard the phone beeping at him. There were two calls, both urgent, and they snapped him back into the mess he'd made of his own life.

The first was from Jacks. The second from Eva Ridley.

 

 

 

 

 

D
AVID
H
ALSTEAD ARRIVED HOME
to a barking dog and an empty house. The gate had been left open, the back door as well. As he'd frantically raced home from the city, he had prepared himself for fear, for fighting, for despair. He hadn't known what he would find in this house, though he had followed the instructions carefully. No police, no private security. He'd emptied the firm's accounts, cashed out what was left on the home equity line. The mortgage deed was somewhere in the house and he would sign it over. Everything he could get his hands on was now in his briefcase, which he gripped tightly as he walked slowly through the house, room by room.