The fact that Lydia could still claim to be innocent after all that is evidence that some people think they can get away with anything. Fortunately, Lydia is currently in jail, awaiting trial for attempted murder. It’s a load off Cassie’s mind to know she’s off the streets. Although she feels a twinge of sadness that Violet doesn’t have her mother at home, because if nothing else, Lydia definitely loved her little girl.
“Uh, Anna…” Joel is holding up Andrew, who has spit up a ton of milk. “Little help?”
Anna laughs and takes the baby from him. She dabs at his chin with a tissue, but it doesn’t quite do the trick. “Cassie,” she says. “Would you mind terribly grabbing a rag from the top drawer in Andrew’s room?”
“Of course!” Cassie leaps to her feet, happy to help. As long as Anna doesn’t ask her to change any diapers.
She goes to Andrew’s bedroom, which is painted a vivid sky blue. There’s a colorful mobile over his bed and a toy box filled with stuffed animals. It’s the ideal room for a baby boy—she can feel the love emanating from every corner of the room. She goes to the blue dresser in the corner of the room and opens the top drawer.
And her heart stops.
Why is there a flip-phone tucked in the corner of the drawer?
She glances around, making sure she’s alone. Then she picks up the phone gingerly. She flips it open and it springs to life.
Why would Anna have this phone? Anna uses an iPhone. Cassie’s seen her use it a million times. It’s not Andrew’s phone.
There’s a green button on the phone that seems to be used to make calls. Cassie presses it, and the phone starts to dial a number. The last number that was called with the phone.
That’s when Cassie hears ringing in the other room.
No. It couldn’t be.
“Cassie.”
Cassie jerks her head up. The phone slides from her hands and clatters onto the floor, smashing to pieces. Anna is standing at the door to Andrew’s room, a sweet smile on her lips. She’s holding Cassie’s cell phone.
“Your phone was ringing, Cassie,” Anna says.
And then Anna closes the door behind her. When she turns to Cassie, her eyes are dark and foreboding.
Anna
During the second half of my pregnancy, I couldn’t sleep.
People warned me that as I got closer to my delivery date, sleep would elude me more and more. But even before my stomach was bulging and pressing on my bladder all night long, I had horrible insomnia. And because of the pregnancy, pills were out of the question. The best I could do was practice good sleep hygiene and drink glasses of warm milk.
One night, Dean woke up and caught me pacing our bedroom at one in the morning. He cracked an eye open, rubbing at his already messy dark hair. “Anna,” he mumbled. “What are you doing? Come to bed.”
“I can’t sleep.”
He yawned as he struggled into a sitting position. Before the baby came, he still made it to the gym a few nights a week, and his well-muscled bare chest was extremely appealing. He grinned at me. “You want me to wear you out?”
“Yes, please,” I said, because Dean had delivered on the promise he made during his first date. He was a damn good doctor. He was a damn good kisser. And he was damn good in bed. I mean, damn.
After it was over, he passed out with his arms wrapped around me, but instead of wearing me out, the good sex had energized me. I slipped out of his arms and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
The WhereAmI app was still on my phone. Dean allowed me to install it on his so that I would be able to locate him wherever he was, which felt increasingly important as my due date neared. One other person I was also able to track was Lydia.
This was, more or less, innocent. Lydia had no regard for anyone else’s time but her own, so she thought nothing of telling me we were meeting at a given time, then showing up twenty minutes or even half-an-hour late. She never called to say she’d be late, or if she did, it was always after I was already sitting in the restaurant like an idiot, waiting for her. So one day, after she had been an enraging forty-two minutes late for our lunch together, I plucked her phone out of her purse while she was visiting the ladies’ room. The screen was locked but her password was Violet’s birthday. It took me thirty seconds to install WhereAmI on her phone, so that I’d always know exactly when she was on her way to meet me.
I loaded the app on a whim. Dean’s location was blinking in the same place as mine—his phone was five feet away from me. But Lydia wasn’t home. She was somewhere else. Somewhere surprising.
She was at Joel’s new girlfriend’s bookstore.
Dean was sound asleep, snoring softly. I got out of bed, shrugged on my coat, and called for an Uber to meet me downstairs. Ten minutes later, I was outside Bookland. Well, down the block. I instructed Pierre, my Uber driver, to keep in the distance. I slipped him a twenty to shut off his lights and let me stay in the car to watch.
It was after two in the morning by then and the street was very quiet. Lydia’s BMW was parked by the bookstore, and she was standing on the street in her black coat. Her blond hair glowed in the streetlights. I could only just barely make out the splash of paint on the door, and there was a homeless woman who suddenly started shouting at Lydia. Lydia said something back that I couldn’t make out, then dug around in her purse until she came up with something that she handed to the woman. Money, I later realized.
When I heard from the grapevine that Cassie’s store had been vandalized, I kept my mouth shut. But I started tracking Lydia in the app. I tracked her to Cassie’s apartment. Back to the store again multiple times.
I considered blowing the whistle on her. I never forgave Lydia for what she did to me, and this seemed like a great opportunity to humiliate her. I could have told Joel what she was doing, but she would have denied it. And after that first time, I never caught her in the act again.
So I decided to make my own evidence. I bought three burner phones. Untraceable.
And I started to make my calls.
Cassie
“Anna,” Cassie gasps. She looks down at the pieces of the shattered phone on the ground, then back at Anna. “What… why…?”
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Anna says.
Cassie backs up, nearly stumbling on a teddy bear. “But I thought Lydia…”
“Lydia started the job. I finished it for her.”
Cassie blinks rapidly. She doesn’t know what to say. She’d thought Lydia had to be lying when she refused to admit to some of the harassment Cassie had experienced. It turns out, she wasn’t lying.
“Look in the drawer again,” Anna says. “There’s something else I want you to see.”
Cassie’s hands are shaking as she goes back to the drawer, digging frantically through the cloth diapers, but she knows what she’s going to find even before she sees the brown book inside with the gold lettering on the cover. A Christmas Carol.
A first edition. Worth twenty-five thousand dollars.
Except not really.
“After I had left my little love note in your closet,” Anna says, “I poked around a little. I didn’t expect to find that. I guess even a goody two shoes like you has secrets.”
Cassie can’t find the words to speak. Anna was the one in her apartment. Anna had made the calls to her. Was Anna also the one who sprinkled peanuts in her food?
“I have to hand it to your grandfather,” Anna goes on. “It really does look like a first edition. I brought it to an expert and even he had trouble proving it was a forgery. I can see how they managed to fool all those people.”
Cassie had been shocked the first time she heard the story. It started innocently enough, when Grandpa Marv had somehow gotten his hands on a real first edition of Gone With the Wind. It was in good condition, and he sold it for ten-thousand dollars. After several collectors heard about this sale, he received multiple calls asking if he had any other collectible editions. He didn’t. But it gave him an idea.
/> It turns out forging old books is not at all difficult. Marv bought walnut oil to age the books and would read up for hours on techniques to make the books appear old and worn. Then he forged certificates of authenticity.
His saving grace was that he didn’t get greedy. He only sold off one book every few months—just enough to keep the floundering bookstore from going under.
Bea and Marv never would have done it if they weren’t desperate. Cassie didn’t discover the truth until Grandpa Marv was already gone, and she was helping Bea sort through some of his belongings. Cassie had picked up one of the perfect first editions and stared at it, hoping it was real but knowing in her heart it couldn’t be.
Bea’s excuses were tearful. We couldn’t make enough money. We would have lost everything.
You can never do this again, Cassie admonished her.
But Bea did it again, and Cassie turned a blind eye, knowing her grandmother did what she had to. It was only six months after Bea’s death when she got a call from a collector herself. Do you have anything I can buy?
She said no. She said no to the next person who called too. But in a month when sales were particularly dismal, Cassie thought to herself, Well, what’s the harm?
Each time she made a transaction, she would tell herself it was the last one. But what choice did she have? Without that extra money, her business was gone. She couldn’t lose her grandparents’ store.
And she wasn’t hurting anyone. Not really. The forgeries were excellent, nearly indistinguishable from the originals. At the time of his death, he had a whole drawer full of his perfect forgeries. And a list of rich and foolish clients who would take them off his hands for an excellent price.
The buyers thought they now owned the originals. Bookland kept its doors open. And every day, Cassie was terrified of the police banging on her door.
“These things always catch up to you eventually.” Anna cocks her head to the side. “Did anyone ever question you when you were unloading those books onto your unsuspecting victims?”
Cassie swallows a hard lump in her throat. “Sometimes.”
Anna cocks her head to the side. “What do you think the jail sentence is for forgery?”
Cassie has looked this up many times. Depending on the amount of money involved, the penalty for forgery can be anywhere from a misdemeanor warranting a fine and probation, or it can be a felony with a ten-year prison sentence. But Cassie knows how much money was involved. It would be a felony.
“And to see your lovely grandparents’ names dragged through the mud in the newspapers…” Anna clucks her tongue. “So sad. So unnecessary.”
“What do you want?” Cassie whispers.
Anna’s eyes darken. “End it with him. Tonight. And you never have to hear from me again.”
“But…” Cassie sputters. “You’re so happy. You have a beautiful son. And you love Con, don’t you?”
“Of course I love him! This isn’t about him.”
“But… why…?”
Anna considers the question for a moment, cocking her head to the side. “You know how they say the best revenge is living well?”
Cassie’s mouth is too dry to speak but she manages to nod.
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Anna says. “The best revenge is making sure the people who wronged you lose everyone they love and die miserable and alone.”
With those words, Anna turns on her heel, opens the door, and leaves the room.
Anna
Up until my delivery, I was having the ideal pregnancy. Aside from my insomnia, I had never felt better. I never even had morning sickness. And Dean and I were so excited about the baby coming, it was all we could think about. Our marriage had never been stronger.
Then things went wrong.
I was in labor for over two days before the monitor on my belly showed the baby in distress. I needed to go for a C-section. Immediately. STAT.
Considering my husband is a doctor himself and had taken part in many surgeries during his training, I’d never seen him so white. But he gowned up as they rushed me in for the C-section. He held my hand, even as the monitor started beeping furiously. Something is wrong. It was my last thought before I lost consciousness.
I found out later that they couldn’t stop the bleeding. They told Dean I would die if they didn’t perform a hysterectomy. He told them to go ahead and do it. I don’t blame him for that decision, even though he beat himself up over the whole thing later. He wanted his son and his wife to survive. He did what he had to do.
After a transfusion of several units of blood, I recovered. We had a beautiful, perfect newborn boy. But it was bittersweet. Dean and I hadn’t decided how many children we wanted, but we were agreed on at least one more. Finding out I would never get pregnant again was a tremendous blow. I begged him not to tell anyone because I couldn’t stand the outpouring of sympathy.
I was very protective of Andrew when I got home. Overprotective? I don’t think so. He was my baby. My only baby. I had a duty to him. To keep him safe.
Then Joel started coming to visit us. I could tell from the look in his eyes how badly he wanted to be a father. His new girlfriend Cassie was only twenty-six. She could give him six babies if he wanted. When I asked my doctor for answers as to why I had such a traumatic delivery, he had cited my age as one of the reasons. Advanced maternal age. A risk for everything. But it was only because of Joel that I didn’t have a baby until thirty-seven. He made me wait. Then he dumped me.
It was his fault. His fault I didn’t have a uterus anymore. His fault Andrew wouldn’t have a younger brother or sister.
His goddamn fault.
So one day when he and Dean were watching television together in the apartment while Andrew was napping, I slipped his ring of keys out of his jacket pocket and went to the local hardware store to copy them. It was even easier than when I had taken Francesca’s keys.
I remembered Cassie’s peanut allergy. I knew Lydia would be the one who would get blamed if she died, especially if I slipped that homeless woman another twenty to jog her memory.
Joel was untouchable. But Cassie? It was too easy to get to Cassie.
Cassie
Cassie’s knees are trembling as she exits the baby’s bedroom. She manages to make her way to the sofa, where the three adults are chatting animatedly while Andrew gurgles happily in Anna’s arms. She collapses onto the sofa next to Joel.
He reaches out and squeezes her knee. “You okay, Cassie?”
Cassie lifts her eyes to look at Anna, who is bouncing her son slightly on her lap. Anna looks in Cassie’s direction, and her eyes darken. A shudder goes through Cassie, and she thinks she might throw up.
“Yes, Cassie,” Anna says. “You look a bit ill. Could I… offer you something to drink?”
“No!” Cassie gasps. “I… I’m fine. Just fine.”
“Good.” Anna’s lips pull up in a smile, her eyes still dark. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Cassie can’t stop picturing the dark look in Anna’s eyes even later, after they leave the apartment and go out into the brisk spring night. She shivers and Joel puts his arm around her, thinking she’s cold, but she’s not cold. She’s terrified.
I don’t want to go to jail. Not for ten years. Not for one year. Not for one month.
“You feel like sushi for dinner?” Joel asks her as they stand on the corner.
Cassie hugs her arms to her chest. She has no appetite, but her stomach rumbles. “Fine.”
He squints at her in the fading light of the evening. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she lies. “I’m fine.”
He hails a cab and gives them a familiar address. It isn’t until they’ve reached the sushi bar that Cassie realizes why the address sounded familiar. It’s the same conveyor belt sushi place where they had their first date.
Anna
On the night before Lydia was accused of poisoning Cassie, Lydia tearfully confessed everything to me in the kitchen while our dinner burne
d.
“I was so angry at Joel,” she murmured into the tissue clasped in her hand. “I couldn’t stand the thought of him being happy. But it was… stupid.”
“I’m sure he’d understand, Lydia,” I told her. “You’ve been going through a lot.”
Lydia cast a glance at the living room, where Dean and Pete were chatting animatedly. “You have no idea, Anna,” she said. “Constantine has been so good to you. You don’t know what it does to you…”
I didn’t point out how after my horrible breakup with Joel, I had fallen apart. And she had abandoned me. She had been a terrible friend to me. A terrible person.
“You know what you need to do,” I told her.
She looked up at me, frowning. “What?”
“You need to talk to Cassie,” I said. “Make peace with her.” I put my hand on the bottle of wine I’d brought her—the one I had known she wouldn’t touch because it was an inferior brand. “Go see her tomorrow. Bring her wine as a peace offering.”
Later, after everyone had too much to drink and were watching television in the living room, I slipped into Lydia and Pete’s bedroom. It was funny how nobody even noticed, but then again, I was the only sober one there. I didn’t dare drink if I knew I’d be responsible for Andrew later. I’ve heard horror stories about horrible fates of babies left in the care of drunk parents.
The bedroom was as expansive as the rest of their apartment. Dean and I live well, but you could fit two of our bedrooms into theirs. I sat on her bed, gasping at the softness of the bedspread. I lay down on the bed for a moment and it was heavenly. Like sleeping on a cloud. If I had this bed, I never would have developed insomnia.
Reluctantly, I sat up again and walked over to Lydia’s antique dresser. I removed one of the burner phones from my purse with a tissue from her vanity table and dropped it into one of the drawers, nestled between two pairs of designer jeans.
The Ex Page 24
