Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it? was hanging on the tip of my tongue when Bridger joined the conversation.
“More like his sister is home from college with her slutty roommate,” he said, and I choked on my reprimand as my quandary took on a whole new challenge.
A throaty, depraved voice echoed from the back seat. “College girls . . .”
I couldn’t see Bodie in the review mirror to issue a critical stare, but I made one all the same. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, and the whining began.
“Come on, Marlie,” Bodie said, drawing his words like every syllable was causing him considerable pain. “We do have a project, I swear.”
I sailed through the light at 21st and Blakemore, grateful that the school and the end of this ride were both in sight.
“I’ll think about it,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say. Maybe I should ask Daniel? But then, he’d been pretty stressed with work and I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t handle things at home. Besides, how was I supposed to concentrate with Bodie’s torrent of shifting emotions? Whoever said boys were easier than girls was clearly disillusioned.
“What does that mean?” Bodie wasn’t giving up. “Like, maybe? Or, ‘no’, and you just don’t want to say it because you’re afraid I’ll keep buggin’ you if you do?”
For the love of Pete! “It means,” I matched his juvenile tone, “‘like maybe’.”
“What if I’m sweet to you all day?” Bodie’s voice turned to sugar.
Nice try. “I won’t see you for the rest of the day,” I quipped.
“Then, I’ll be sweet for the rest of this ride.”
I pulled up in front of the school. “Ride’s over,” I said as my eyes caught a glimpse of Bodie sliding across the back seat.
Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, locking his hands together against my collarbones with a squeeze. “See how easy that was,” he gushed. “You’re the best step-momma ever.”
He was playing me, I knew, but neither of the boys had yet to refer to me as their stepmother. Up to this point, I’d simply been, “Miss Marlie” or worse, “the woman our father married.”
I glimpsed his hopeful eyes staring back at me through the review mirror. Softening his brow, he further widened his pitiful eyes. My anger melted like butter in a cast-iron skillet. I should probably let them go but first lay down some specific conditions. But what would such conditions exist of?
I needed time to think. I patted his interlocked fingers. “I’ll let you know this afternoon.”
With the boys deposited at school, I eased the RX back into the morning traffic, heading for home. It was true, what everyone said about motherhood being a rollercoaster ride. One minute the boys were inches away from killing each other, and then—poof!—I’m “the best step-momma ever.” If I hadn’t had a lunch date with Cooper and her Junior League cronies to dread, I could have anticipated that today would be a pretty good day.
I’d just rejoined the throngs of morning commuters when I noticed an Aston Martin two cars ahead at the red light. What were the chances it could be Daniel? He’d come in late last night, which wasn’t unusual except that, for the first time since our wedding, he hadn’t wakened me—we were still newlyweds, after all.
I strained to see over the traffic between us, thinking that if it was Daniel, maybe we could grab a quick breakfast. Since the wedding, outside of our bedroom, we hadn’t had much time to really connect as a married couple. I could ask him what he thought about the boys staying over at friend’s on a school night; and I might even glean a few clues regarding the dead ends I’d been hitting with my investigation.
Three good reasons for me to flag him down.
Following him through the light, I dialed his cell. It rang a few times then went to voicemail. Huh? I passed the cars between us and pulled up behind him just as the road curved to the right, heading into the morning sun, and stopped behind him at a crosswalk. The direct light highlighted the silhouette of his head and shoulders through the tint of his rear window. It was, in fact, Daniel.
I pushed redial and watched as his shadow lifted the phone from the center console, consulted the display, and then tossed it to the passenger seat. My good mood soured, settling like spoiled milk in my gut.
Daniel took advantage of the break in pedestrians, moved through the crosswalk, and drove on. As his car ambled up the narrow winding street, more Vanderbilt students with backpacks and professionals in business attire flooded into the crosswalk, forming a human barrier between his car and mine. The hubbub slowed to a solemn procession and his car slipped from view.
One impatient blast from the horn of the car behind me sent me flying out of my seat. Refocusing on the road ahead, I saw that there was another lull in pedestrians. “Okay, okay.” I moved my trembling foot from the brake to the gas and sent my car forward.
I hadn’t intended to follow him. To be honest, I wasn’t thinking about where I was heading. But then, a few blocks later, I caught up to the Aston Martin. The left blinker was flashing, indicating Daniel’s intent to take the ramp to Highway 40. Across the highway, Daniel would be at the Capitol, which was where he should have been going, but this route would lead him north, looping around the city instead.
That sour feeling in my gut turned over again, bubbling up to my chest. The RX seemed to take on a mind of its own as my left blinker switched on and I followed him around the curve. My heart jack-hammered against my ribs, my palms slipped on the steering wheel. Was I really spying on my husband, following him like some suspicious, insecure housewife? When he’d first asked me to marry him, he promised, I’ll never lie to you. So the fact that he had declined my call meant he was going somewhere he didn’t want to lie to me about.
Merging onto Briley Parkway, I followed him farther north and out of the city while keeping a safe distance in the diminishing traffic. At least, I thought it was a safe distance. What did I know about tailing someone besides what I’d seen in movies? I rehearsed possible excuses for why I was out in the middle of nowhere at eight in the morning. Coincidentally, on the very same unexpected road he was traveling.
I got lost, saw your car, and tried to flag you down when you didn’t answer my call, I could say. Why didn’t you answer my call, by the way?
No, I have a GPS and could have used it to get home.
I was taking a morning drive to . . . Timbuktu. Fancy meeting you here. Might sound better. Why are you here, by the way?
Stupid. He would see right through it. I had two options. Don’t get caught or admit I’d been following him. Unless this journey ended at a seedy brothel, option one was my best chance of not appearing psychotically obsessed. To be safe, I eased up on the gas, putting a few more car lengths between us.
Ten minutes later, at the exit for Ashland City, he took the ramp and turned right. A few miles down the deserted road, he slowed onto the gravel shoulder, turned right onto a dirt road, and drove through a grouping of trees. I pulled into the gravel and stopped, watching as he disappeared behind a cloud of dust. What to do now? I had no way of knowing what was beyond those trees, or if I could follow without being detected.
“What is this place?” I thought aloud as my gaze scanned a terrain of wild shrubs and trees. Then, on the other side of the dirt road, I spied a granite boulder.
Cut into the smooth, shiny part of the stone were the words, Hills of Calvary Cemetery.
Chapter Thirteen
Just let the valet park your car,” Cooper’s voice shot through my phone with an impatient huff.
The valet? I’d never, in my life, had a car valet parked. But then, how hard could it be? I just drive up and wait for one of the college-aged guys to come over, right? Only, why sit and wait for someone else to park my car when I was perfectly able to do so myself? I wasn’t one of those people—the kind of person who thought they were too good, or too important, to do a simple thing like pull into a parking space and walk.
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br /> “Cooper, I’m not sure I’m up for this today,” I said, my mind turning once again to Daniel. Was I being irrational and obsessive?
On a good day I despised these lunch get-togethers where Cooper and acquaintances would talk about people I didn’t know while attempting to solve the world’s atrocities, including but not limited to, catering blunders, landscaping gone awry, and botched plastic surgeries. And I hated those wide-eyed why-would-you-say-a-thing-like-that looks I got whenever I tried, unsuccessfully, to contribute to the conversation. I hadn’t been offered a membership in the Junior League as of yet, but Cooper kept setting up these lunches so the members could get to know me.
“Not up for what? Eating?” she said with another hmph. “Where are you? We’re late as it is. And where were you this morning? I stopped by to borrow that necklace of Nana’s Momma gave you at the wedding.”
“Er . . . I had some errands to run,” I lied, which brought me to my next thought. “Hey, is all of your family buried in the church cemetery?”
I spotted an available meter a block from the restaurant and pulled in, thinking maybe seeing Cooper wouldn’t be that bad after all, not if I could subtly glean some valuable information from her.
“Do you have relatives, a grandparent, maybe, buried north of town?”
“Heaven above, Marlie. No!” Cooper hissed. “Do you have some sick obsession with dead people or something? After lunch I’m callin’ my therapist. You need to talk to someone before this gets out of hand and you disgrace us all.”
I grabbed my purse and opened the car door just as my call waiting beeped in with a call from Anna-Beth.
“Gee, Cooper, it’s so nice to know you’re concerned for my welfare,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll be there in a minute.” I switched lines, ending the call before she could say anything else. “Hey Anna-Beth, thanks for calling me back.”
“Girl, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in weeks,” she said.
My eyes went for a quick roll. She always did that, pretended like it was my fault we hadn’t spoken when she was the one who rarely returned my calls.
I fed the meter a few quarters. “I’ve called you a half-dozen times since the wedding. Check your voicemail,” I reminded her.
“You know I hate voicemail,” she said. “It’s so tedious.”
I waited for a break in the traffic and then scooted across the street. The humidity had pulled my hair into loose, flowing ringlets that yo-yoed as I double-timed it up the sidewalk. The one saving grace to this heat—with the help of some quite pricey hair products—my hair looked acceptably perky with very little effort.
“Yes, I know,” I said. “Anyway, I have a question . . .”
Was I really going to say this out loud? But then, if I couldn’t trust my best friend, who could I trust? I gulped back my doubt and plunged on. “Did Gentry have a twin?”
“Did she what?” Anna-Beth squeaked. “No, why would you ask such a thing?”
I released a dismissive laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s nothing, I guess,” I said though there was no denying the urgency in my voice. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Marlie,” she said, her tone attentive. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”
I sent a weak smile to an older couple brushing past me on the narrow sidewalk and lowered my voice. “A week after the wedding I took the boys to the cemetery to visit their mom’s grave—it was her birthday, and,” the rest trailed off as the possibility seemed less likely the more of it I heard slipping through my lips.
“And?”
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “While we were there, a woman appeared out of nowhere and she . . . she looked just like Gentry.”
Anna-Beth got so quiet I thought our call had been dropped. I checked my phone’s display to make sure we were still connected. When I saw that we were, I pressed it back to my ear.
“That was like a month ago. Why are you bringin’ it up now?” she was saying.
“Oh, um . . .” I stalled, suddenly rethinking telling Anna-Beth anything about my little investigation or how Paul had threatened me, or that he was having me followed, much less, how I’d followed Daniel this morning. She had a habit of turning every little thing into an epic drama.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you but we’ve both been so busy lately,” I lied again, trying to sound casual. “That’s all. It’s no big deal.”
“Really, and because ‘it’s no big deal,’ you’ve called me like ten times in the last week?”
“Ha!” I said. “So you did get my messages.”
Ignoring my last comment, Anna-Beth said, “I know you, Marlie, and I know somethin’s up, so spill it.”
A few yards up the sidewalk, Cooper was waiting.
“Seriously, Anna-Beth, it’s no big deal,” I minimized. “No need to turn this into the Spanish Inquisition.”
Cooper yanked off her sunglasses and lobbed me a bothered look.
Anna-Beth said, “When have I ever—”
“Look, I have to go,” I said in a rush. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I could hear Anna-Beth’s protests as I ended the call and dropped the phone into my purse. I felt bad for hanging up on her but I couldn’t discuss the matter any further, especially now that Cooper was within earshot.
Dressed in a knee-length linen skirt, cashmere sweater set with the cardigan tied over her shoulders, Cooper was tapping the toe of her bejeweled sandal. “What’s the matter with you other than that outfit you chose?” Cooper asked, glaring at my Gap outlet tank top, True Religion jeans, and Fendi sandals.
Middle class mingled with upper class—a mismatch, just like me. My shoulders were covered with a coordinating three-quarter sleeved sweater, which I thought would have made her happy.
I was in no mood to mince words. “It feels like I’m always offending people,” I said with brutal honesty. “I don’t mean to, but somehow it just happens, and today I’m feeling a little out of sorts.” I rolled my shoulders a few turns trying to work out a knot that had been tightening since my escapade that morning.
Sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head, Cooper took my arm and started for the door of the restaurant. “You just need to learn how to sugar coat things a little more,” she said, sending everyone we passed a cordial smile. “Don’t be so abrupt.”
Her voice had turned almost tender—concerned—very un-Cooper-talking-to-Marlie-like. I pulled away from her, giving her a careful look. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
She gave me a patronizing smile. “’Cause you’re my brother’s wife and how you act reflects on him, and since I’m family, your behavior extends to me.”
Her voice stayed light while her eyes remained condescending. “So pull yourself together and play along before I start regrettin’ not lockin’ you in the attic before the weddin’ like I’d planned.”
She wagged a finger at me. “It’s not too late, you know,” she added with a perky shrill. She stopped just shy of the door and turned to face me. “There, now you try.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, was my first thought. She didn’t really expect me to put on a disingenuous air—not today of all days—like that would be any better than me just being my normal, blunt self.
Her plastered-on smile showed no sign of easing.
I drew my cheeks up into a toothy grin and assumed my best kindergarten teacher/Southern debutant voice. “You people scare me. And now that you mention it, I think I’d rather spend the afternoon in an attic with spiders and the rotting corpses of all the other poor souls bold enough to cross the imperious Cooper Cannon Collins,” I said, extending my smile to its max.
“That’s the spirit.” She gave my shoulder an encouraging pat. “See, it’s not as hard as all that, now is it? It’s not what you say, but how you say it.”
Her smile faded just a tad as she spoke through tight lips. “Just lose the fake accent. It reeks to high heaven of Yankee impost
er. We can’t have that now, can we?”
I dropped my smile and the accent. “Yeah, but my accent’s not the only thing that reeks around here,” I mumbled.
Cooper turned back to me, pointing to her upturned lips. “With a smile, if you please.”
I sneered at the back of her head as the maître d’ lead us through the boisterous lunch crowd over to our table. Our lunch companions were already seated. They turned to face us as we approached, their eyes appraising me as Cooper and I slid into our seats.
“Hi, I’m Sadie,” said the woman on the right. She had big blonde hair that hung down to the middle of her back. Her blouse crossed in the front and was overflowing with her generous bosom. Large golden jewelry, including an oversized cross, hung down to her waist. Bracelets circled each wrist. She extended a delicate hand. I shook it as I sat.
“And I’m Caitlin,” said the other. She was much leaner than Sadie with less makeup and jewelry. Chic but casual, she reminded me more of someone I would meet in San Diego than Nashville. “I hope you don’t mind but we went ahead and ordered. Prime rib salads. Is that okay?”
“Perfect,” Cooper agreed.
“Anyway, as I was sayin’ before y’all got here,” Caitlin said after Cooper and I had settled in our seats, “can you believe the nerve of the Senator Polk’s wife, standing up like that assertin’ her opinion on school lunches like she has some right to speak on the matter?”
“Oh, and did you see that dress?” chimed in Sadie. “It was atrocious. I heard she spent two thousand dollars on it. In this economy, with so many people strugglin’, I’d think she would show a little more prudence in public, is all I’m sayin’.”
The senator’s wife to which Sadie was referring just so happened to be a Democrat, and I knew this because today wasn’t the first time I’d heard some of Cooper’s friends trashing her. If the poor woman shopped at Ann Taylor, these people criticized her for not being poised enough. If she wore an expensive dress, they were even more derisive. Criticism of anyone in public office, or otherwise, for donning a pricey dress, for advocating quality meals for children, while we were all about to consume a thirty-dollar salad “in this economy” took irony to a whole new level.
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