by Carrie Doyle
Antonia glanced around her messy office before her eyes landed down at her shirt, which looked like Jackson Pollack had gone crazy with a box of powdered sugar. She dusted it off with her hands, but that only made it press further into the fabric. It was a no-win situation.
“Sure. Let’s go outside. I could use the fresh air,” replied Antonia.
She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead walked briskly out of her office to the front door, furiously rubbing the sugar off her blouse, erasing the evidence. The temperature was in the high fifties. The air was moist and the clouds hung low, clumped together in long, ominous strips. The forecast had called for rain later in the day and it appeared to be accurate. As it had been a relatively mild spring, the dried grass could definitely benefit from a shower. Antonia stopped in front of the pair of chairs that were nestled in the corner by the elm tree. It was a serene spot, partially hidden by azalea and wisteria bushes. She flopped herself down on the chair.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Darrow?” asked Antonia when Nick had caught up. Her voice was neutral, not overly friendly and not rude.
“I was wondering what happened to you this morning, so I stopped by,” said Nick, sitting down in the chair next to her. He glanced around at the flowering cherry tree that provided shade. “This is a nice spot.”
“I like it too.”
Nick turned and stared at her, but Antonia remained fixed straight ahead. The basement screen door had a hole in it and would need replacing, she noticed with dismay. Yet another expense. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with Nick today, after everything that was going on, but she could feel his presence burrowing into her. He had that effect on people, the larger-than-life charisma that could fill up any space— including the outdoors. Finally, Nick broke the silence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stay to talk with you last night. I wanted to thank you personally for a fabulous dinner. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome,” said Antonia.
“For fear of sounding like a seventh grade girl, are you mad at me?”
Antonia turned and looked at Nick. “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”
“You seem it.”
Antonia gave a short fake laugh. “No, not at all. I was just busy. I had a lot of stuff going on this morning. You can’t even imagine. Plus, I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I slept like a baby. Really, that lamb dish was off the charts. All of it, the amuse bouche on down, was fantastic.”
“Thank you,” said Antonia. “I hope Melanie enjoyed it as well.”
The second it came out of her mouth, she regretted saying it. She could tell that her tone was not genuine, and Nick would be able to pick up on that. She had no reason to act betrayed or scorned. She and Nick talked about his wife all the time; he had never given her any false hopes that he had a romantic interest in her. She had developed feelings for him in spite of, rather than in the absence of, his complete honesty. These irrational feelings now made her jealous and vindictive. She had to stop.
“She liked it very much. She wanted to tell you herself, but we had to get home to relieve the babysitter.”
Antonia nodded.
“The babysitter is fifteen. We couldn’t find anyone last night and our live in sitter is on vacation. And I had to drive this girl home to Springs after. What a nightmare,” continued Nick. “This town is so over-staffed with police I thought I’d be pulled over. Had too much wine last night. But it was all delicious. A perfect evening, except for driving the babysitter home. I asked Melanie why she couldn’t find someone who could drive…”
Nick stopped when he saw that Antonia did not appear sympathetic. He stood up and glanced at her curiously. “I know you’re not being straight with me. Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you mad because I left without saying goodbye?”
She was about to deny everything when she stopped herself. “I was surprised that you didn’t stop in. Disappointed.”
He sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. “I thought so.”
“I just thought we were friends, and it would have been nice to, you know, get a hello.”
Nick moved over and put his hands on her shoulders. He gave her one of those penetrating looks that he used on his co-stars.
“I know. I’m sorry. It was rude of us to leave without saying anything. I apologize. The dinner was wonderful, thank you.”
His voice was intimate. His eyes remained on her face, searching hers for answers. His laser beam intensity took Antonia off guard. She had always been dazzled by his attention; now that he had touched her, the sensation was magnified. It was time to grow up, Antonia told herself. He apologized, now she had to move on.
“You’re welcome,” said Antonia finally, adding a small smile.
“Are we square now?”
“Sure,” said Antonia.
“Because, you of all people. I couldn’t take it.”
“Me of all people? What does that mean?” asked Antonia in a voice that couldn’t hide her surprise.
Nick’s eyes bore deeper into her. “It means that you’re the person in my life who doesn’t tell me the crap they think I want to hear. I don’t want our friendship to end.”
She wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms, embrace him and make passionate love to him, like the kind they do in movies, soundtrack and all. But Antonia realized that his was not a declaration of love. This was a declaration of friendship. A confession in which he acknowledged that Antonia was a great sounding board, who wasn’t one of the obsequious sycophants that he was used to spending time with, and that meant something to him. She couldn’t go on this way. Just being the straight man, the reminder to someone, the person who puts someone in his or her place— that wasn’t good enough.
“I don’t want our friendship to end either,” Antonia offered. “But just be normal. Be a friend.”
Nick nodded. “Fair enough.”
Antonia shook off his arm gently. “Okay, I do have to get back though.”
“I know,” said Nick.
They started walking towards the porch. Antonia had just taken the first step onto the old wooden staircase when Nick spoke.
“She’s jealous, you know.”
Antonia turned her head to glance back at him. He still radiated intensity that almost threw her off balance. “Who?”
“Melanie,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That’s why we left. When she realized it was your restaurant, you were the chef; she wanted to get the hell out of there. I waited until the end of the meal to tell her.”
Antonia’s head started swimming with all sorts of questions but the only one that popped out was “What about the babysitter?”
“I did have to take her home. But you’re right. She could have waited five more minutes.”
Antonia was confused. “Why in the world would Melanie be jealous?”
Nick smiled. “She thinks I’m in love with you.”
Antonia felt the blood drain from her head. It was if something inside her was cracking, as slowly as an eggshell, but peeling off the armor that held her together. “That’s crazy.”
Nick didn’t respond. He kept his watchful eyes on her. Antonia felt naked and exposed.
“How does she even know we know each other?” she asked, searching for something to say to break the awkwardness.
“I’ve mentioned you here and there in the beginning. She’s very jealous. After one fight when she brought it up, I stopped. But she has kept on it. It’s a bit of an obsession for her.”
“Me?” asked Antonia, her mouth dropping in shock.
Nick nodded.
“Well, you can tell her I said she’s nuts. She has nothing to worry about. I’m not a force to be reckoned with.”
“That’s not true.”
Antonia wanted to ask more. Like, Does Melanie have something to worry about, Nick? And, Why are you telling me this? But she couldn’t. This was real life, and there are formalities and proprieties and secrets that needed to be kept. It would not be helpful if she asked Nick if there was any reason why Melanie should be worried. He was a married man with a son. And in her heart of hearts, she knew that he was playing with fire, experimenting just a little to see what it was like out there. She didn’t want to be the guinea pig that ended up on a dissecting slab with her heart and guts ripped out.
They stared at each other in silence for another minute before Antonia turned. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Okay,” said Nick. “We’ll talk later.”
She felt his eyes on her and wished she had not devoured the plate of cookies.
19
“Everything all right?” asked Joseph when Antonia re-entered the inn. He was sitting on the red bench in the foyer, one that afforded him a perfect view of the front porch.
“Yes, sure,” said Antonia quickly.
Joseph’s eyes flashed behind his glasses. It was difficult to keep anything from him, Antonia knew. He was a writer: an observer by trade.
“Sheila Black is dead,” whispered Antonia.
“Oh my.”
“I know,” nodded Antonia.
“And I’m sure you heard about Nancy Woods, as well,” said Joseph.
“I did.”
“She was a cantankerous lady, but she played a mean gin rummy,” sighed Joseph.
“I can’t believe it. First, Warner, then Nancy, now Sheila. They say bad things happen in threes so let’s hope we’re done.”
“Agreed. And in the meantime, is it still convenient for you to take me to my eye doctor’s appointment this morning?”
“Yes, of course!” said Antonia hurriedly. “I totally forgot.”
“Are you sure?” said Joseph. “I could scooter myself to town and take a taxi back if it doesn’t work for you. It’s those darn eye drops they put in my eyes that blind me. I don’t want to be cited for reckless scootering.”
“No, it’s perfect, I’ll just grab my purse and we’ll go.”
Ten minutes later, Antonia pulled out of the driveway. On occasions such as these, Joseph would forgo the scooter and use his crutches instead. In those circumstances they required the assistance of Hector to help Joseph sit down in Antonia’s car. She promised Joseph that her next car would not be so low to the ground.
He smoothed the creases on his oxford shirt. Joseph was always immaculately dressed; he had been so from the day Antonia met him. His clothes were perfectly ironed and starched by Soyla, who completely doted on him. “It’s dreadful about Sheila. What happened?”
“All I heard was she was found murdered. It’s so odd.”
“What is going on in this town?”
“I have to tell you, I did something illegal last night.”
“Again?”
“Yes. I can’t stop. Promise you won’t turn me in.”
“Of course not, my dear. How would I eat?”
Antonia spent the short drive updating Joseph on everything that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours including her trip to the Masterson house. She explained how she led Sam through the rooms, and discovered the watch and the upside down towels. When Antonia reached the parking lot, they sat in the car in silence.
“Thoughts?” asked Antonia finally.
Joseph scratched his chin. “Do you think you should inform the police about Sidney Black and the gun?”
“I don’t want to get Francine in trouble.”
Joseph became suddenly serious. “Antonia, I know you’ve had bad experiences with law enforcement, but it doesn’t mean all cops are bad. You don’t have to take the weight of the world upon yourself and do their job. You have to trust them.”
Despite herself, Antonia’s eyes filled with tears. At times like this Joseph reminded her so much of her father that she could cry. They were both compassionate and thoughtful men, with giant hearts. Joseph had definitely filled a hole in her life, stepped into the role of parent, which was immensely reassuring to Antonia.
“Sorry, I’m just over-tired,” said Antonia, wiping her eyes.
“It’s a lot to take. And you are in the thick of it. Perhaps it conjures up bad memories for you. But don’t forget that what happened to you happened to you in California, not East Hampton.”
“I wish I could, Joseph. But the last time I put faith in the police, they destroyed my life.”
“I know,” said Joseph softly. “You’ve only told me bits and pieces about that night, but I know it changed your life forever.”
Tears streamed down her face. She hated crying. She put her hands over her eyes and wiped away all the tears. After a moment, she began to speak in a voice so soft that Joseph had to lean in to hear her.
“Philip didn’t reveal his true colors until a year into our marriage. In the beginning, it was bliss. I had been floating along, aimlessly, and he set us up in a nice home, in a nice town. Things went well. But then little by little, I realized how controlling he was becoming. He didn’t want me to work, so I quit my catering business. He didn’t want me to have friends, so little by little they dropped off. He’d come home, and we’d talk about his cases, which were very interesting to me. But the work stress started to get to him. He was cited more than once for excessive violence at work, and then ultimately relegated to counseling due to anger. That was a joke. And the more frustrations he had at work, the more he took it out at me. He drank more, became physical with me. And just mean. I asked his colleagues to help me, but they just closed ranks and didn’t listen.”
Antonia paused. Joseph put his hand on her arms.
“About four months before I left him, I went back to catering. I didn’t tell him of course, but I had to do something. That’s where I met Genevieve. It worked out well because Philip had to work the night shift on the weekends, and that’s when I was busiest. But one day he left work early, and I wasn’t home when he got there. He waited for me, and he became very violent. We fought. He finally took off and went to a bar. I called my father who came over to stay with me.”
Antonia had to stop to compose herself. She hated thinking about the past. Joseph waited patiently, his face awash with concern.
“When Philip came back my father asked him to leave. He refused. Philip was like a maniac, on a tirade. He kicked my father in the stomach and he fell…”
Joseph patted her hand. She glanced up at him.
“My father had always had a bad heart, but this blow killed him. And the police did nothing. Didn’t charge Philip. Nothing. He got away with it. I tried to do everything to get back at him, but the only thing I could do was sue him civilly. His money bought the inn. It’s dirty blood money, but at least I made him suffer a little bit. Not a fraction of my pain…”
“I’m so sorry.”
Antonia wiped her eyes. She attempted a smile. “I know. So that’s the reason. I know that was L.A. and we’re in East Hampton, but it’s hard to move on.”
Joseph nodded.
They sat in silence for a solid five minutes. After she stopped crying, Antonia felt as if a giant weight had been lifted off her chest. She realized that horrible part of her life was over. She had regained the strength to move on and live her own life, full of wonderful friends, in a town that she loved with a job that she loved. Philip had no hold on her anymore.
Joseph finally broke the quiet. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
Antonia nodded. “I promise.”
“Good. Because I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”
“Likewise.”
They exited the car and walked slowly towards the curb. After Antonia had helped Joseph into th
e eye doctor she went outside to sit on a wooden bench. She was drained and tired after crying. The day felt heavy and morose. She glanced at her cell phone and noticed she had missed a call from Larry. With a sigh, she dialed him back immediately.
“How’d it go?” asked Antonia with anticipation. She had almost forgotten all about Sheila Black.
“Yeah, she’s dead.”
“Do they have a suspect?”
“If they did, they didn’t tell me.”
“What do you think?”
“They don’t know if it’s the same man who possibly killed Warner. The guy who killed Sheila made a mess. There was nothing fussy about that kill. It was more like rage.”
“You think Sid Black did it?”
“Maybe. Could have gotten a mob guy in there. Problem is no one saw anything. Neighbors are all weekenders, hadn’t come out yet.”
“That sounds absurd…”
“Listen, gotta fly. I’ll get back to you…”
Larry hung up before Antonia could say anything. A second later her cell phone buzzed again. Antonia picked it up.
“What now?”
“ahisohihihio,” said the voice on the other end.
“Larry?”
“Get over here now!” hissed the garbled voice.
Antonia became instantly tense. She glanced around. “Who is this?”
“It’s me, who do you think?”
“Genevieve!” sighed Antonia with relief. “You scared the dickens out of me.”
“I scared the dick out of you? What are you doing?”
“Dickens, never mind. Where are you?”
“I’m at work,” said Genevieve. “Why haven’t you called me back? So much to discuss.”
“Can you speak up? I can barely here you.”
“I can’t speak up. I need you to get over here now. It’s an emergency.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Antonia replaced her phone in her pocket and rose. She walked briskly down Newtown Lane before making a right on Main Street, and into Ralph Lauren. Antonia wandered past the faceless mannequins dressed in eveningwear. Genevieve was ascending the stairs, clutching cashmere capes in colors with fancy names like “eggplant” and “dusty rose.” Antonia gave her a quizzical look.
