No Safe Secret

by Fern Michaels

  She heard Sally downstairs in the kitchen. Thank goodness she’d arrived on time. Molly had already wasted way too much time at the market. She slipped into one of the slinky black dresses she reserved for dinner parties. A pair of low-slung black heels, and she was ready. She stood a few feet away from the mirror to view her reflection. Not bad from a distance, but hideous up close. Maybe it was time to start thinking about an injection or two of Botox or possibly a face-lift. Tanner hadn’t mentioned this to her yet, but something told her he would in the near future. Of course, he would find a way for one of his colleagues to perform the surgery or inject the botulism for a reduced rate, of that Molly was sure. Again, she was reminded of his stinginess, at least when it came to her.

  More and more lately, Molly tried to recall exactly when and why she’d fallen in love with Tanner and couldn’t come up with an exact moment when she knew he was the one, or an event that defined the moment as special, life-changing. Had it been gradual? Like a slow-burning flame? No, that wasn’t her at all. Why had she fallen in love with her husband of almost twenty years? Why she was having such strange thoughts bothered her, but not so much that she would consider making a change. She had a good life, one that most women would envy. A handsome husband. And a doctor at that. Three beautiful children. Their home, which was probably worth more than the average person would earn in a lifetime. Yet she couldn’t help but feel unsettled. Possibly it was the realization that she was growing old. She shouldn’t have looked in that damned vanity mirror this morning. Natural sunlight didn’t tell lies. She was aging, and to her, it didn’t appear that she was aging gracefully. She took one last glance in the mirror before going downstairs. I am what I am, she thought, as she plastered a smile on her face when she saw Sally in the kitchen.

  Sally looked up from the cheese tray she was arranging. “Why, Miss Molly, you look absolutely stunning! What I wouldn’t give to have a figure like yours.”

  Molly gave a wry laugh. “Thanks. I sure don’t feel very ‘stunning’ today.”

  She took an apron from a drawer and tied the straps around her waist and neck, then spoke. “What can I do?” Although she already knew what needed to be done. She’d planned the dinner party herself. However, after getting to know Sally, she had determined it made the little woman feel better about herself if Molly played the role of the helpless wife. From what she had gathered, Sally’s home life was lacking. She knew her husband drank, and occasionally Sally would show up with a black eye and would do her best to try to convince Molly how clumsy she was at home. Molly didn’t believe her, but had never once considered telling her so. She liked Sally. Sometimes she liked to think of her as a surrogate mother. She was certainly old enough. Molly felt an extra layer of protection when Sally was in her house.

  With iron-colored hair and matching eyes, Sally was short and round like a beach ball, and just as colorful with her use of the English language. She said, “That shit over there”—she nodded to the counter indicating several unopened jars—“needs to be opened and gussied up a bit. Maybe one of those fancy china bowls you have.”

  Molly laughed, an honest-to-goodness laugh. Sally was just what she needed to perk her up for the boring evening ahead. “Consider it done.” She removed three small crystal bowls from the bottom of the hutch. Carefully, she filled each dish with the contents of the jars of jams and mustards she’d purchased from Gloria’s. She hoped this wasn’t too casual for Tanner. He did like his dinner parties to be formal, a bit on the uppity side. Cheese trays were quite popular now. She would remind him of this if he complained. He liked keeping up with the latest trends.

  “I’ll let these chill for a bit.” Molly placed the bowls in the refrigerator. She glanced at the clock on the stove. “I don’t think I’m going to have enough time to sauté these fillets,” she said, eyeing the small mound of white fish on the platter when she opened the refrigerator. “I’ll broil them.”

  “Absolutely, give you more time with your company,” Sally said while she arranged the platters.

  That was the last thing Molly wanted, but Sally didn’t need to know that. “I doubt they’ll even know that I’m here. After dessert, I’m sure they’ll do their doctor thing. Tanner wants to open another dental clinic.” She wanted to ask Sally to not mention this to Tanner but decided against it. Doing so would just call more attention to herself, and she didn’t need that. His dinner parties were always stressful. As much as she enjoyed spending time in the kitchen, she detested his dinners on demand. If she dropped a fork, if the meal didn’t meet his expectations, later there would be an argument and possibly more.

  Molly jumped when she heard pounding footsteps, followed by a door slamming. “Mom? You home?” Kristen called out as she made her way to the kitchen. “I guess you are,” she said, entering the kitchen and reaching for a slice of cheese.

  “No!” Molly said, then caught herself. “That’s for tonight. Appetizers. Now, hands off,” she said, smiling.

  At seventeen, Kristen was the spitting image of her mother, with thick blond hair and bright-green eyes. Molly thought her daughter quite stunning at seventeen. Often when she looked at her, she would travel back in time to her youth and thank the high heavens Kristen didn’t have to live like she had. She never spoke of her past to her children, and they never asked about her life before she married their father. Their lives were too full, and for this she was grateful. She’d dedicated her life to her family. Unlike her benighted mother.

  “Dad at it again?” Kristen asked as she yanked the refrigerator door open. She pulled out a carton of orange juice, then closed the door with her hip.

  “Careful!” Sally called. “Your momma’s got those crystal dishes in there. You break ’em, and she’ll have your ass, kiddo.”

  Kristen looked at Molly, raising her perfectly shaped brows. “Oh. Sorry.”

  Molly shook her head at Sally’s words. “Dad’s having dinner guests tonight.”

  “Figures,” Kristen said as she reached for a glass. “He’s always having his stupid cronies over for something.”

  “Kristen! Don’t let your father hear you say that,” Molly admonished, a bit too harshly.

  “Or what?” she asked.

  “Yeah, or what?” Graham said. “I’m starving. What’s to eat?”

  Molly jumped, then calmed herself a bit when she saw Graham. He sounded exactly like his father. Almost twenty-two, Graham stood six-foot-two and weighed a perfect two hundred pounds. With black hair and blue eyes, he was identical to Tanner. Though she’d raised Graham and Holden since they were toddlers, she’d always felt something was missing. The maternal bond she’d felt when she gave birth to Kristen just wasn’t there. She loved both boys dearly but often felt as though they only tolerated her because of Tanner. They had no memories of their mother, but Tanner was always quick to remind them that she was only their stepmother. As if in saying this, he meant she didn’t deserve the respect that their biological mother deserved, had she lived.

  Molly had always suspected that there was more to his first wife’s tragic death than Tanner had shared with her, but she wasn’t willing to risk an argument by bringing up the topic. The few times she had brought it up, Tanner had gone into a rage. His blue eyes glazed over, and the muscles in his neck bulged with rage. She recalled a time when she’d actually watched the skin on his neck dancing up and down as it pulsed with anger, his heart beating so fast that, for a moment, she’d feared he might suffer a heart attack. If the topic was brought up, she always let Tanner tell his version of the day that Elaine had fallen down the stairs and broken her neck. She would listen, but she always kept her opinion to herself. She had learned. The hard way.

  “I said, what’s to eat? Didn’t you hear me?” Graham repeated impatiently. He stretched his arms out in front of him, lacing his fingers together, then knowing how Molly detested it, he cracked his knuckles one by one. The smirk on his face said it all. “Earth to Molly? I said, ‘What’s to eat?’ ” The twins
had never called her Mother, or Mom. Just Molly.

  Kristen tossed the remainder of her orange juice in the sink, then slammed her glass down on the counter. “Are you helpless? Can’t you see my mom is busy?” Kristen said, her voice raised a notch.

  “Both of you calm down,” Molly said before their verbal slashing worsened. “Graham, your dad is having guests tonight. I didn’t think you would be home, so I . . . ”—didn’t plan on serving you dinner—“figured you guys would eat before you came home. Or I can order a pizza, if you like.” Molly had begun to feel intimidated by the twins when they were around fourteen. The sweet little boys she’d raised had turned on her. She had complained to Tanner, and he had done nothing. In fact, once she’d brought it to his attention, it seemed that he actually encouraged their disrespectful behavior. If she served them a dish they didn’t like—the two seemed more connected to one another’s likes and dislikes as they got older—they would make a big show of their dislike: dumping their food on the floor, pretending they were going to throw up. Their antics knew no bounds. Once Graham took his plate and tossed it into the deep ceramic sink, causing the plate to shatter. When he’d grabbed a piece of the broken plate and cut his hand, requiring stitches, Tanner had flown into a rage, telling her she was a horrible stepmother, and if it weren’t for Kristen, he would contact the authorities and report her for abusing his son. She remembered being shocked at Tanner’s accusation. When she’d tried to point out Graham’s deliberate act, he had slapped her in front of the boys. They’d laughed at their father. Grateful that Kristen hadn’t been home to witness that horrible night, from that moment on Molly felt as though she had to tiptoe around them when they were in the house.

  Both boys had just graduated from Harvard with business degrees. But they hadn’t moved out or bothered to search for a job. She feared their expensive education had been nothing more than a waste of money.

  Sally placed a dishcloth over the cheese platter, her way of saying what lay beneath it was now off-limits. Kristen leaned against the refrigerator door, watching and waiting.

  “I hate pizza. You’d know that if you ever paid attention to me,” Graham said, his man voice firm and decisive, just like Tanner’s.

  Holding back the urge to scream and remind him of the hundreds of times she’d served him pizza, she took a deep breath before she spoke. “Graham, now isn’t the time. I’m busy. If you’d like a sandwich, I’m sure Sally would be more than happy to make one for you.” She hated dragging Sally into their arguments, but Molly felt Graham needed to be reminded that they were not alone in the kitchen.

  “You’re an asshole, Graham,” Kristen said before turning her back on them and opening the refrigerator. She grabbed a package of turkey, a jar of plain mustard, and a package of processed cheese slices. She closed the door with her hip and took a loaf of bread from the cabinet. “Here,” she said, holding the food out in front of her. “Make your own goddamn sandwich.”

  “Kristen!” Molly gasped. Her insides turned to water. For a second, she thought she might be sick. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Tonight wasn’t a good night for a fight between brother and sister. But was there ever a good night for a fight? she thought, as she formed her next words. “Graham, make yourself a sandwich,” Molly said as Kristen plopped the food in the center of the kitchen’s large island.

  “I’m going upstairs to finish packing. I can’t wait to get out of this hellhole,” Kristen shouted as she stomped out of the kitchen.

  Kristen was right. Their home had become a hellhole, at least when the twins were home. And their father, Molly thought, but knew it was best not to share this with her daughter. Tanner was her father, too.

  Without so much as an apology, Graham hurriedly made two sandwiches and grabbed a can of soda; then he, too, stormed out of the kitchen.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She would be so glad when the twins moved out. They made everyone miserable. Except for Tanner. He actually thought their hateful, childish behavior comical. Afraid to challenge him, Molly kept her opinions to herself. It was enough that the twins turned the house upside down whenever the urge hit them. She wasn’t going to add to the chaos. She kept telling herself that when they moved out, things would be different, like they used to be when they’d first married. She and Tanner would have the house to themselves. She would try harder to make their evenings more romantic. They’d have dinner, spend more time making love and relaxing with one another. They would discuss their day together as they lay in bed, hips touching, his hand lightly touching hers. She would tell him about Gloria’s constantly asking her to come to work, and he would tell her about the frightened, cavity-filled patients he’d seen during the day.

  Right. She knew full well that this was an absolute fantasy. She might as well wish that she and Tanner could hop on a rocket and fly off to the moon for some sightseeing.

  “Miss Molly, you all right?” Sally asked in a much softer tone than normal.

  Was she?

  She cleared her throat. “Sure, I’m good. Those kids just love to annoy me,” she said. Her words sounded as though she were including Kristen, but she wasn’t. Those kids, in her mind, referred to the twins. How had two adorable toddlers turned into such cruel, hateful young men? She knew the answer but didn’t want to go there. She was so tired of trying to be a good mother to them and a good wife to Tanner. Her yearning for the perfect family had become nothing more than a fantasy from long ago, one born out of the hellish existence she had lived through as a kid. The fight to turn that fantasy into reality left her the night Tanner had slapped her in front of the twins.

  Sally removed the cloth from the cheese platter and added more brie. “Kristen’s a good girl. She don’t ever annoy me. Now, those two grown boys, well, you know as well as I do, that’s a completely different story.”

  Molly wanted to agree but refrained. These days she never knew when they might be lurking around the corner.

  “Kids are challenging,” Molly offered. A flimsy answer, but she wasn’t taking any chances with their overhearing what she said.

  “Yep, they are. Especially when they ain’t your own,” Sally whispered.

  Molly knew this was her way of saying what she herself wouldn’t. Holden and Graham didn’t share her genetic makeup. They were spoiled, mean, and beyond immature. She had tried her best to be a good mother to both of the boys, and truly, she did love them, but not with the same all-consuming, to-the-death kind of love that she felt for Kristen. When they were toddlers, she had loved them, cared for them as if she’d given birth to them. The change had been abrupt and hurtful.

  At first, she had berated herself over and over for her lack of motherly feelings, told herself she wasn’t normal. Then she decided it was just a phase. The boys were in their early teens, at an age where even biological parents might question their feelings for their children, even if only in thought. This was when she really began to notice how Tanner encouraged them to disrespect her. She made excuses. Boys will be boys. They were hormonal teenagers. They would grow out of their hatefulness. One excuse after another, but their behavior only worsened as they got older. She took most of it, swallowed it, and occasionally choked on it. When the plate-shattering incident happened and Tanner accused her of physical abuse, she knew both her husband and the boys were not acting normally. It was at this time that Tanner’s abuse took a turn and became more than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t even think about the state of her marriage. Not now. If she did, she was afraid of what she might do.

  Molly took a deep breath. “I love them, Sally, but sometimes they make it hard.”

  Sally moved the cheese platter aside and began working on the meats. “Yep, I can see that. I just don’t understand why Mr. Tanner doesn’t discipline them.”

  Molly removed lemons, garlic, and Worcestershire sauce from the refrigerator. She took a knife, a cutting board, and a garlic press from a drawer and began prepping the Caesar dressing. “It’s difficult at t
heir age. They’re adults, remember?” She popped a clove of garlic into the press. “I’m sure once they’re out on their own, they will mature and settle down.”

  Did she really believe that? No, not even for a minute.

  “I sure hope so, Miss Molly,” Sally said, her tone doubtful and unconvinced.

  “I think it’s a guy thing that they’ll grow out of.”

  Again, she didn’t believe her own words. Dreading the evening ahead, Molly chopped and sliced, anything to erase the twins and their father from her thoughts, even if it was only for a little while.

  Chapter Six

  Summer, Boston

  On her first day in Cambridge, she’d learned about Mrs. Garner’s Boarding House for single women from an ad in Harvard’s newspaper, the Crimson. For twenty dollars a night, she shared a small attic room with three other girls who weren’t much older than she. The twenty dollars included one hot meal per day, the use of a large bathroom with a time limit of ten minutes per shower, and you had to provide your own bath towel. Sarah, a shy girl not much older than she, had loaned her a clean towel. Molly was thankful and planned to wash it and return it to her as soon as she was able to purchase one of her own. She found the streets of Cambridge filled with tiny shops, selling everything from homemade candles to rosary beads that claimed to be blessed by some pope she’d never heard of. So far, she hadn’t located a Walmart or a discount department store she could afford that sold bath towels.