The Scarlet Letter Scandal (13 page)

So Rachel waited. She didn’t even let Kellie know she was mad about the betrayal. What was that saying about revenge being a dish best served cold? Cold she could do. She’d continue their fake friendship as long as necessary until she’d one day get to watch Kellie’s world fall apart in front of her. It was already teetering on the edge. Besides, once she’d found out from a neighbor that Brandon was supplying pharmaceuticals, she’d begun fueling her pill habit with regular visits from the UDS man himself.

And that Maggie Hanson.
She was another bitch Rachel would like to see leave town. How dare she break Kate’s heart?
I guess I should be thanking her
, thought Rachel,
but I hate her attitude and her celebration of adultery.
I guess that makes me a hypocrite,
she realized;
after all,
I am technically cheating on my husband with Kate
. But somehow Rachel’s discovery that she was a lesbian, which hadn’t come easy, had been such a relief and had made her marriage feel like the lie, not the other way around. She couldn’t come out while her son was a tween, so she didn’t really think of her relationship with Kate as much like an affair as a natural realization of her true self, a beginning of her future.

She would not let Maggie jeopardize that. Maggie, who slept with whoever she wanted and didn’t give a shit about anyone’s feelings but her own. Maggie, who left two (or was it three?) husbands in the dust at the same time she was crushing Kate. Rachel had found Kate’s journal by accident one day at her apartment while waiting for Kate to come home from the college. She’d innocently looked in a side table drawer in search of a ponytail holder, and there it was. She couldn’t
not
read it. The busybody in her wouldn’t allow it. Thinking she’d read just a few pages, she ended up devouring the entire book and finding herself so upset as she read through the relationship. Maggie had just tossed Kate aside like a one-night stand. Kate thought the relationship was so much more. And regardless of what she’d seen in the journal, Rachel would be
sure
Kate forgot about Maggie.

Damn the both of you, Maggie and Kellie
, thought Rachel, closing the blog’s screen and her laptop. They both deserved whatever hassle the Keytown Mouse posts had in store for them.

Eva got off the train at Penn Station and hailed a cab to her office. She hesitated as the doorman held the door for her. Walking into the building for the first time since her leave of absence from her mother’s death so many months ago felt like an enormous task.

“Ms. Bradley?” the uniformed worker asked.

“Yes, hello, Pete. Good to see you again.” Eva plastered on a smile, gripped the handle of her leather Coach messenger bag more tightly, as if for strength, and walked with a false sense of confidence to the elevator.

“Shall I send your suitcase over to your suite at the Plaza Hotel?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks, that’s so thoughtful,” she said, rummaging for a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet. She smiled again and then couldn’t stand all the fake smiling and headed past the vast glass entryway and down the hall to the elevators.

As she rode to the thirty-seventh floor, she thought about how noisy New York City was. Of course, she’d known this, but living on a very quiet, dark island for all this time made returning to the city a jolting experience. The train, the people,
so many people crowded everywhere,
the horns blowing constantly, the cell phones dinging, it was all very overwhelming.
It’s amazing how different two islands can be
, she thought.

She took a deep breath as the doors opened, putting her shoulders back as her late mother had constantly reminded her—
if you put your shoulders back and take a deep breath, you can handle anything
, she’d always say. Eva pushed thoughts of her mother out of her head; thinking of her would make this day worse than it was already going to be.

The receptionist, with her perfect white linen blouse and flawless hair and makeup (
so young
, Eva thought) looked up at her and immediately tried to hide the surprise that had unintentionally raised her eyebrows for a split second.

“Good morning, Ms. Bradley,” said Helena. “It’s lovely to see you. My name is Helena. Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” said Eva, having absolutely no idea who the new receptionist was. She was impressed, if a bit creeped out, that the girl knew who she was. And then she remembered the three massive oil paintings that adorned the wall directly across from her in the seating area. Gregory Smith had insisted on them about a decade ago and Eva had relented, though she didn’t love the idea of being immortalized in oil. She continued to dislike it now since she looked so much older—the years were showing on her face despite the microdermabrasion and she refused to go under the knife…yet. Maybe when fifty came.

“… or have it brought to your office?” The young woman was talking and Eva hadn’t been paying attention.

“I’m sorry?” asked Eva.

“Your mail,” repeated Helena. “Did you want it now or would you like me to have your assistant bring it later?”

“I’ll go over it with her,” said Eva. “Thanks.”

As she walked to her office, she realized that hadn’t been much of an answer, but the last thing she wanted to see was an enormous stack of sympathy cards and client case letters. Greg Smith and Jake Cohen had been very accommodating in her absence; her work was spread among the firm’s lawyers by the partners. She was amazed at how simple that had been.

She walked into her office and immediately admired its view of Central Park. Of course, she’d seen the view thousands of times before, but she’d never really stopped to just look at it before. It was truly breathtaking. She put down her soft leather bag and walked over to her ivory leather chair, for some reason running her hand over the fine materials of each, appreciating the softness of their expensive surfaces; not found on her other, less fancy island. Just that morning she’d been sitting in Paul’s Café with Nathan, eating Crabby Eggs Benedict and admiring the local photography on the walls. Now she was in another world. Another planet, it seemed.

Her long-time assistant, Becky, walked in, also pretending not to be surprised by her presence.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” said Eva. “I just thought I’d come in and see where things were; it’s been so long and I just needed to be back here.”

“Oh gosh, Ms. Bradley, please don’t apologize to me,” said Becky, pushing up her glasses. “It’s so nice to see you again. I’m so sorry for your loss and I was glad to hear you took some time off.”

“Bet you were surprised about that,” said Eva, the beginning of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, of course everyone… I mean, we all hoped…” Becky blushed.

“Oh, please don’t feel awkward,” said Eva, opening her laptop. “I know it’s odd to just have me pop back in. But I figured it had to happen sometime.”

“Have you been in to the DC office?” asked Becky, clearly worried there was something she should have known about preparing for Eva’s return.

“Not yet,” said Eva. “And if it’s okay, can you just hold off on bringing my mail in here yet, please? I don’t think I’m ready to open that can of worms.”

“Of course,” said Becky. She paused, glancing at Eva; they both understood there was a far worse chore at hand: Eva’s email. “Just let me know,” said Becky, as she turned to leave.

“Thanks, Becky. Great to see you again,” said Eva. There that fake smile was again.

“Welcome back,” said Becky, closing the door behind her.

Eva spun her chair to face the picture window. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes.
Why do I feel so out of place in my own office?

She dreaded the thought of Greg and Jake coming in to meet with her when they heard she had returned without even telling them. She dreaded the thought of opening her email. She dreaded the overwhelming task of diving back into client work, though she had convinced herself that she needed the distraction. She needed the normalcy. But now, for some reason, none of this seemed normal.

She turned her chair back around and caught a glimpse of the huge vase of sea glass on the antique credenza. A gold-leaf oval mirror hung on the wall behind it and matching antique gold candlesticks flanked the glass container.
Look at those stupid candles,
thought Eva.
Why are they even there? Like I would ever light candles in my office.
She walked over and scooped out a handful of the sea glass. What had been her mother’s hobby had become her life’s first hobby in the months since she moved to the island.

She clasped her hand over the smooth glass, moving the pieces around inside her fist. Even holding these gifts from the Chesapeake Bay made her yearn for home. Her mother had collected the vase full for her office one year for Christmas. She looked down at the handful; a rounded, perfect white piece, a smaller lime green nugget, a honey-colored soft triangle, a frosted seafoam Coke bottle piece.

She returned to her desk and took her phone out of her purse. There was a text message from one of her sons (
Where is the permission slip for the lacrosse field trip??
), a text from Nathan (
How was your train ride?),
a text from her sea glass friend Jo Bird (
When’s low tide?!).

Her sea glass friend.
What a funny thought. She’d met Jo as Jo wandered on the shoreline in front of her cottage one day, her head hanging down toward the sand. She’d looked up and been alarmed, as though Eva might yell at her for being on the property.

“Hunt away,” Eva had said. “I know from my mom that in Maryland it’s legal to be on any beach up to the average high tide line.”

Jo had smiled. “Your mom was an expert beachcomber.”

And they’d talked for an hour and ended up drinking a bottle of wine together. Jo was a teacher at the island’s elementary school and the friendship had been natural and instant. For the past few months they’d gone kayaking and sea glass hunting together many times. They texted each other every day, and Eva marveled at how easily a new friend had come to her in a time of need, like a wave on the sand. She’d missed Maggie and Lisa back in Keytown when she moved to the island. Even though she was there once a week to drop her twin teenage sons off after weekend visits (she and her ex-husband had made the decision they should spend their senior year in a private boys’ boarding school to ensure they made it to graduation day), she didn’t see them as much as she used to when they had monthly meetings on the calendar. Jo’s serendipitous arrival had been welcome; she’d never appreciated having a friend more than she did now.

Eva’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door; she was sure it would be the first of many.

Helena walked in.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but I wondered if you wanted me to set up a meeting between Mr. Smith and Mr. Cohen and yourself?”

“That’s very thoughtful,” said Eva. “Please do, but could you make it for tomorrow? I just want a day to try to get acclimated again.”

“Of course,” said Helena, and she returned to the front desk.

Eva picked up her phone again, taking a minute to answer her texts and to send a new one, to Charles. She hadn’t seen her chef lover in a few months; he’d only come to visit her once on the island, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to see her more.

She sensed how much he missed her, and she missed him too. But she had needed time to grieve and mourn the losses of her mother and her marriage, and had surprised herself by taking it. The relationship with Nathan had been a complete surprise to her, as finding a new lover would have been the last thing on a list of to-do items in her life. Charles didn’t know about Nathan, though she hadn’t lied to Nathan when he’d asked if there was anyone else.

She picked up her phone.

Eva: In town tonight. Didn’t have notice. Are you working?

She grimaced, thinking it was pretty rude to just show up in New York and expect everyone to run around changing their day’s plans for her. Her phone lit up almost instantly with a new message.

Charles: Two minutes ago the front desk called to inform me that your bag arrived. Said they thought I might want to prepare a meal for you.