“Look, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
My phone buzzed.
I read the message twice.
Linda: Carol sent me a picture of Rachel’s boyfriend. It’s Gary. I’m going to pick them up now.
I read the message twice.
Gary was watching me.
“Who keeps texting you?”
“Linda.”
“What does Linda know about her?”
“What’s she saying?”
“She found something interesting.”
“About what?”
“Your girlfriend.”
His expression tightened.
He reached for his suitcase handle, then let go.
“What does Linda know about her?”
“Apparently, more than I do.”
He reached for his suitcase handle, then let go.
“Debbie, let’s just go inside and talk.”
“I think I’d rather stay here.”
For the first time since he’d arrived, he seemed genuinely nervous.
He glanced toward the street.
For the first time since he’d arrived, he seemed genuinely nervous.
A few minutes later, a car pulled into Linda’s driveway.
Linda got out from behind the wheel. A woman climbed from the front passenger seat, her purse strap wound tightly around her wrist. Carol remained in the back.
The woman stopped at the foot of my walkway.
Gary dropped his suitcase handle.
“No,” he said.
The woman stopped at the foot of my walkway.
“Hello, Gary.”
He turned toward me. “What did you do?”
“You told me you’d been divorced for two years.”
“Nothing yet,” I said.
Linda came up to me.
“Debbie, this is Rachel.”
Rachel looked at me, then back at Gary.
“You told me you’d been divorced for two years,” Rachel said.
“He moved out four months ago. We’re still married.”
“I told you the marriage was over.”
“He moved out four months ago,” I said. “We’re still married.”
“You know things were difficult, Debbie.”
“Difficult isn’t divorced.”
Rachel stared at him.
“After we talked, I called Carol.”
“And your name isn’t James.”
I turned to Gary. “James?”
“It’s my middle name,” he muttered.
“You never told me that,” Rachel said.
Linda touched my arm.
I looked at Gary. He was staring at the pavement.
“After we talked, I called Carol. Rachel was right there with her, so Carol asked for a picture and sent it to me. I recognized Gary immediately. That’s when I went to get them.”
I looked at Gary. He was staring at the pavement.
Rachel folded her arms.
“You said you and Debbie only lived together because selling the house would upset your son.”
“He told me your son was seventeen.”
“Our son moved out three years ago,” I said.
“He told me your son was seventeen.”
“He’s twenty-four.”
Rachel looked at Gary.
“You made her sound like she was keeping you trapped.”
He looked at me, searching for help.
“You don’t know what our marriage was like,” he snapped.
“Neither do I, apparently.”
He looked at me, searching for help.
For twenty-two years, I’d known that look. Usually, it meant I was supposed to smooth things over.
I said nothing.
“You told me Debbie hated your mother.”
Rachel took a breath.
“You told me Debbie hated your mother.”
I felt something tighten in my chest.
“I took her to chemotherapy every Thursday for six months.”
Rachel’s expression hardened.
“You used her to make yourself the victim.”
“You said she refused to visit when your mother was sick.”
“I was explaining how lonely I felt!” Gary snapped.
“So you made her sound cruel?” Rachel asked. “You used her to make yourself the victim.”
Gary rubbed his forehead.
“Look, I wasn’t happy. Neither of you understands what that was like.”
“We were already seeing each other in March. On March eighth, he told me he loved me.”
I looked at Rachel.
“How long were you together?”
She hesitated.
“We were already seeing each other in March. On March eighth, he told me he loved me.”
I stared at Gary.
“He was still living with you then?”
“That was our anniversary.”
Rachel went still.
“He was still living with you then?”
“Yes. He told me he had a work dinner.”
Rachel looked at him.
I remembered the dinner I’d eaten by myself that night. I’d saved him a plate in the refrigerator.
“You told me you’d spent that evening alone before coming to see me.”
