The Wife Who Knew Too Much

“It’s crazy out there tonight. Holding up okay?” he asked.

“Ugh. An ex showed up and knocked the wind out of me.”

“Not Derek?” Matt asked, looking alarmed. “I thought you said he moved to Florida.”

Derek was my ex-husband.

“He did, thank God. No, this is someone I dated years ago.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“Just making me sad. I was crazy about him, and it didn’t end well. Now he’s rich as God, and I’m old and pathetic.”

“Old? What are you, like, twenty-two?” he said.

I noticed he didn’t dispute the second half of my statement.

Matt slapped a shot glass down in front of me and poured out a finger of expensive tequila. “This is good for what ails you.”

I wasn’t a big drinker, but if I didn’t take the edge off my feelings, I wouldn’t get through the night. I knocked the shot back.

“Another.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“This guy broke my heart, Matt.”

He refilled the glass. The second shot did the trick. A comforting layer of gauze dropped over the room. I placed the drink order and went off to the kitchen to collect waiting entrees.

By the time I got around to delivering Connor’s drink, I was surprised to see that a woman had joined him at his table. She was pretty, with shiny dark hair, wearing a flowy dress. They leaned toward each other, talking intently. She definitely was not his wife, whose picture I’d seen many times. Nina Levitt was older than this woman and had famously red hair. The flame-haired Nina Levitt, or “Titian-haired,” they said in the press. Titian was an artist who liked to paint pictures of women with red hair. I knew this because I’d looked it up. He was before Nina’s time or else I’m sure he would’ve painted her.

I was too busy to dwell on this mystery woman, however, and too proud to admit that I cared. I took their order like I didn’t even know him. Other than shooting me an intense look, he didn’t acknowledge me, either, or attempt to introduce me to her. The evening passed in a blur, helped along by the tequila. I was back and forth to Connor’s table in between serving other customers. Before I knew it, two hours had passed, and he was alone. I brought him the check, and he handed me one of those Amex black cards. Titanium, cool to the touch. I’d never seen one before. They were like an urban legend. No credit limit, and you couldn’t apply for one. Amex had to decide you were worthy.

“Is this for real? I thought only, like, Beyoncé and Saudi princes had these.”

“It’s real.”

“I didn’t think you had room to come up in the world, Connor Ford, but I was wrong.”

He gave a harsh laugh.

When I came back ten minutes later with the slip for him to sign, the woman hadn’t reappeared.

“What happened to your girlfriend?”

A worried look came into his eyes. “Not a girlfriend. Just a business associate.”

“Guess I won’t sell her picture to the tabloids, then.”

My tone was light enough to convey that I was just razzing him. But Connor didn’t get the joke. He went deathly pale and grabbed my wrist.

“Tell me you didn’t take any photos tonight.”

“Hey.”

I jerked my hand away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this is important.”

“I was teasing, because you’re famous now. It was a joke, okay? Jeez.”

I rubbed my wrist.

“You don’t understand. I’m under a lot of pressure. If you took a photo—”

“I said I didn’t.”

“Can you just— I know this sounds crazy, but can I see your phone? Just to check.”

“Seriously?”

He stared back at me, looking almost ill. He wasn’t joking.

“Fine. Here. Go through my photos if that’ll make you feel better.”

I took my phone from my pocket and opened my photos. Connor grabbed the phone from my hand and scrolled frantically. After a minute, he breathed out, handing the phone back to me.

“Okay?” I said.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a jackass. If you knew my situation—”

“I get it. You have people taking advantage of you on a daily basis. You and I haven’t seen each other in years, so for all you know, I could be the type who’d make a buck selling your picture. I’m not. Please, accept my apology, and allow me to comp your drinks.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

“No, Tabby, really. I’m sorry, I overreacted. I don’t want it to be like that between us.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re strangers. A waitress and a customer.”

He was looking at me with those eyes, and I felt their power. I needed to put a stop to this before he broke my heart all over again. Given the presence of the attractive brunette, he was probably already cheating. A player, despite his protestations.

“Listen, it was nice seeing you. I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Wait. No.”

He sounded almost desperate.

“Let me make it up to you. Buy you a drink?”

“I’m working.”

“Afterwards, then.”

“It’s dead around the lake at night. By the time I get off work, everything will be closed.”

“I know somewhere we can go, just to talk. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself. It’s a gift to run into you out of the blue. I can’t let it end with me blowing it like this.”

His eyes were pleading. It was unnerving how upset he’d gotten over a dumb joke. But on the other hand, he was Connor, and he was right. It was a miracle, running into each other after all these years. In a sense, the damage was already done. He’d wormed his way into my head, my heart, all over again. If I passed up the chance to have a drink with him, I’d regret it.

Besides, it was just a drink. Right?

“Please, Tabby,” he said.

Nobody else ever called me that, before or since. I looked into his eyes. I put my hand momentarily on his shoulder. I didn’t have the willpower to refuse.

“Just one drink?” I said.

“If that’s all you have time for.”

“Okay. I get off at eleven.”

His smile lit the room.

“I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done.”

7

I finished my shift at eleven and stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. The only cars that remained belonged to me and my coworkers. No Connor.

Disappointment hit me like a slap. That’s how messed up I was over him already. I should be glad that he’d decided not to show. After all, what good could possibly come of us having a drink together? Fighting tears, and mad at myself for it, I got out my keys and headed for my old Toyota. Just as I pointed the key fob at the door, that black sports car came roaring into the lot and screeched to a halt beside me. Connor lowered the window.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was worried you’d be gone.”

I didn’t ask where he’d been, since that was none of my business. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. The sports car was sleek and sinuous and low to the ground, like something Tom Cruise would drive in a spy movie. I looked back at my old rust bucket, then over at his car, and thought, What’s wrong with this picture? What did he want with me after all these years? He was married to a famous beauty, a woman who traveled on helicopters and yachts, draped in diamonds. Was it because I’d seen him with that brunette? Maybe he wasn’t satisfied that I’d been joking? Maybe he was even upset. The thought made me uneasy.

“Should we just talk here?” I said.

“In the parking lot? That’s not a good idea. I’m staying at a friend’s ski house. It’s a ten-minute drive from here, with a great view. He stocks the best liquor. We can talk without worrying about who’s watching.”

Right. He was famous, and married, and I’d already rattled him by joking about selling a picture. He didn’t need paparazzi photographing him with a woman. Not just the woman from the restaurant. Any woman. Me.

“It would mean so much to me to catch up. Please, Tabby?”

He leaned on the please so winningly. That dazzling grin, that honeyed voice, the square jaw, the beautiful eyes. I knew this was bad for me. But if I could spend an hour with him, just talking, catching up, I’d have memories that would last for years. I nodded, and Connor pushed open the passenger door.

Sinking into the fragrant leather seat, I gawked at the intricate instrument panel and the lovely grain of the wood on the dashboard.

“This car is awesome. What is it?”

“Lamborghini. A gift from my wife,” he said, and his voice tightened when he mentioned her.

“I hope you wrote a nice thank-you note,” I said.

He hit the gas, and the car leaped forward. We zoomed out of the lot onto the road that led away from the lake, racing past the old country club, the defunct golf course, the ski resort with its lodge and lifts shuttered for the off-season. Everything was closed, deserted, locked up tight. He turned onto the narrow road that wound up Baldwin Mountain.

“I have to confess,” Connor said, his eyes on the road, “I was surprised to see you there tonight.”

“You were surprised? Imagine my reaction. Connor Ford at frumpy old Baldwin Lake? The place has gone downhill, big-time. And your family sold their house ages ago.”

“Yeah, after my grandmother died. How did you know?”

I know everything about you.

“Heard it through the grapevine. Why come back?”

“Business. The old golf-course land is on the market. I was thinking of buying it and trying to develop it into something.”

“That’s who the woman was?”

He gave me an uncomfortable look.

“We were discussing a project. Anyway, what about you? Why are you still here? You wanted to move to the big city. Become a journalist—a TV reporter, right?”

“That seems ridiculous now.”

“Why? You had the looks for it. And the smarts.”

“I decided to become a smart, good-looking waitress instead,” I said.

The bitterness in my voice was palpable. He glanced over at me, sadness in his eyes.

“Sorry if that sounded condescending. There’s nothing wrong with earning a living, as long as you’re happy.”

“Happy endings are for rich kids. You know that.”

He looked stung.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair,” I said.

“I can see why you might think that. If it makes you feel better, there was no happy ending in my family. We ended up broke and at each other’s throats.”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

“After the way my grandmother treated you, you’d be justified in hating her.”

“I don’t wish bad on anyone.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re too good. Most people would say we got what was coming. We were living off my grandmother’s money. My mom, my aunts and uncles, all the cousins. Me. The financial crisis wiped her out. She died not long after, and the battle for the estate was crows fighting over a corpse. It got ugly. Most of us still don’t talk to each other.”

“That’s sad. You and your cousins seemed so close.”

“It looked better from the outside than it actually was. Everybody was nuts.”

He fell silent, concentrating on driving. The dark, narrow road switched back as it climbed, and he took the hairpin turns expertly, the Lamborghini cornering like the exquisite high-tech machine it was.

“This car is amazing.”

“You like it?”

“Love.”

“Check this out.”

Connor grinned and hit the gas. The car leaped, and I squealed as the g-forces slammed me into the seat.

At the top of the mountain, he jammed on the brakes, then swerved onto an unpaved road, kicking up dirt. We bumped along, hitting every rut and hole till my teeth clattered, and we arrived at an elaborate iron gate that slid open as the car approached.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in years,” I said.

“Me, too.”

He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t help doubting. Wasn’t his life normally full of fast cars, private jets, speedboats? The tabloids would have you think so.

We got out. Wind rustled in the pines. I hugged myself against the chill as I followed Connor toward the house. It loomed, enormous and dark at the edge of a precipice, with open air below. I looked up at an eerie yellow moon, hiding behind wispy clouds, then across the valley to the mountains of Vermont, fifty miles away. Involuntarily, I shivered.

“Your friend isn’t home?” I asked.

“I’m borrowing the place. He doesn’t use it in the summertime.”

He unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Inside, there was a musty chill, like the house had been closed up since last winter. We stood in a two-story great room dominated by an enormous stone fireplace. At the far end, tall windows faced the view. Against the dark of the night, they were black mirrors reflecting my image back at me, tiny and vulnerable in the towering space.

“I’ll find us something to drink,” Connor said, and disappeared.

I walked over to a big leather sectional that faced the fireplace and sat down gingerly. The house was beautifully crafted, with log walls, gleaming floors covered in Navajo rugs, and faux-rustic furniture straight out of a magazine. But you could tell it wasn’t lived-in, and it had a sterile air about it. Connor came back with two crystal glasses and a bottle of scotch. He poured slugs for both of us, then leaned back on the sofa and pointed a remote at the fireplace. Blue flames sprang to life, doing nothing to banish the chill. We clinked glasses. He sighed and took a long pull of his scotch.

“It’s so good to be here with you. I can’t even tell you,” he said.

I didn’t reply. I was trying to decide whether to take him at his word. It meant a lot to me to be here, more than it ever could to him. Or so I thought. Was he playing with me? I had to be careful not to make this into more than it was. I took a sip of the scotch. It tasted smoky and rich.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“What question?”

“Why you stayed. This town always seemed too small for you. I remember, you were dying to get out and see the world.”

“You made me think that was possible.”

His eyes searched my face. It felt too intense. I looked down at my glass, swirling the scotch, trying to decide how honest to be, how vulnerable. But he wouldn’t let me get away. He reached out and put a finger under my chin, tipping my face up so I was gazing into his eyes. With anyone else, it would’ve felt like a violation. With Connor, it was deep communion.

“But it wasn’t? You can tell me the truth. Even if it’s You and your fucked-up family ruined my life.”

I smiled. “All right, then, yeah. You and your fucked-up family ruined my life.”

“Hah, I asked for that.” His words had a bantering tone, yet he looked genuinely crushed.

“I’m joking,” I said.

“No, you’re not, and that’s okay. I left you hanging. I have a lot of regrets in life, but that’s one of the big ones.”

“Well, you were in a tough spot. Your family was under your grandmother’s thumb.”

“I should have stood up to Nell, but I didn’t have the guts. She terrified me till the day she died.”

“She was a scary lady. That doesn’t make my family’s problems your fault. The recession hit. There were layoffs at the club. Grandma Jean was let go. But we didn’t starve. We had her social security and Grandpa’s disability. When there was no money for college, I went to work. Me, and millions of other kids. It wasn’t a tragedy. Grandpa died. Grandma got sick. I was her only family. I stayed around to take care of her, and I was happy to do it. That’s just life. I did get my associates degree eventually, after she died. I had a good job at the hospital. Things were good, until I went and married the wrong guy—but that was on me.”

I stopped. Connor was watching my face.

“Tell me about your marriage,” he said gently.

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s behind me, and I like to keep it there.”

“Understood. Then, you’ll relate. Marriage hasn’t been easy for me, either,” he said.

“From what I see in the magazines, you look happy enough,” I said, and instantly regretted giving away the fact that I stalked him online. But he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t mind.

“I must sound like an asshole,” he said.

“You don’t. I didn’t mean to imply that at all.”

I gazed at him, wanting to memorize him, not as he was at nineteen, but now, as a grown man. He put his hand around mine, where I was holding the glass. But I moved away. We were on dangerous ground.

“I’m just saying, my marriage is not the fairy tale it’s made out to be. We got married too fast, before I really knew her. She was beautiful and rich and famous. She turned my head.”

“That happens. I’ve seen her pictures. She is beautiful.”

“It’s not just her, it’s the way she lives. You can’t even imagine. The houses, the cars, the jet, the travel. She has people to do everything for her. Assistants and secretaries, housekeepers, a personal yoga instructor, a stylist, hair and makeup, a driver, chefs. I can’t even count them all. She just has to think something, and it happens. She doesn’t even walk on her own.”

“Walk?”

“Like, she exits a building, and somebody guides her to her car, holding an umbrella if it’s raining. She gets into an elevator, someone else pushes the button, and tells her what floor she’s going to. Her feet don’t touch the ground. She doesn’t so much as flick a light switch. When I’m with her, they do all that for me, and I’ve gotten used to it. Do you understand? It’s a terrible thing to admit. I feel like I sold my soul.”

“Um—I don’t know what to say. I see how that could be very seductive.”

“But you. You were so real. That summer. You were just this—I don’t know—this angel of my youth.”

I laughed. “Angel?”

“Yeah. The long blond hair, the long legs. Always tan.”

“Well, I worked outdoors.”

“I don’t mean to make it just about how you looked. It was so much more. I saw you tonight, and that whole time in my life came rushing back. How messed up I was. Hating my dad, which I still do, by the way. My mother on the verge of a breakdown. I remember, I’d go somewhere, alone with you, and everything would magically get better. Your voice, your laugh. You had magic powers. You could cure me, Tabby. It was so perfect, so simple, what we had. I never found that again. And this thing with Nina—it’s twisted.”

He shook his head, shuddering. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was afraid of the things he said, how they made me feel. I should have told him to stop. But I couldn’t.

“Talking like this, I feel it again. Like we’re still kids. Like I’m still in love for the first time,” he said.

He was looking in my eyes as he said that, and I was sipping the scotch. I started to cough and couldn’t stop. He patted my back.

“I’m okay,” I managed, eyes watering.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair, unloading my regrets on you. It was my fault, the way things ended. I had no backbone. I wish I could have a do-over. Anything not to’ve hurt you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“But I’m not over it. If I could recapture that feeling—well, I’d give a lot.”

How could I stay strong when he said things like that? I went there.

“If you’re so unhappy with your wife, why do you stay?”

He hesitated, sipping his drink, gazing into the fire.

“I’m afraid of what she’d do if I left. I don’t know if you know much about Edward Levitt—”

“I know he was famous for his affairs.”

“The way he treated her. He humiliated her publicly. It’s like she has PTSD from it. She’s insecure. Depressed. Suicidal, sometimes. With me, she can’t help it, she’s incapable of trusting. Like, to the point of being paranoid. She believes that I’m cheating on her, that I’m lying, that I’m trying to hurt her. I’m not doing any of those things. But she won’t believe me. It’s almost like she can’t.”

I decided not to mention that dark-haired woman at dinner. He’d claimed she was a business associate, and anyway, if Connor was having an affair, it was really none of my business. It did caution not taking what he said at face value, though.

“What about counseling?” I asked.

“I suggested couples’ counseling. Nina’s been in therapy for years, and the only thing she’d consider was having me see her analyst, separately. I tried. It was useless. He just sat there and said, ‘Hmmm.’”

“What will you do?”

“I’ve tried to show her how devoted I am, to convince her that I’m not Edward, that I would never behave the way he did. But from the beginning, she couldn’t let me breathe. She insisted on knowing where I was every second. She monitored my phone calls. She made me give her the passwords to all my accounts so she could read my emails. I should’ve said no, but I was trying to reassure her. I thought it would help, but it ended up making things worse. The more information she got, the more paranoid she became. Now we’re down the rabbit hole. Every move I make is suspect.”

“That sounds extreme.”

“It is. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know what to do, Tabby. I really don’t.”

He dropped his head to his hands. He looked so desperate that it got to me. I rubbed his shoulder.

“Hey,” I said, shifting closer to him.

He looked up and our eyes met. As if in slow motion, he leaned toward me, and I thought, Don’t do this, you’ll regret it. But my lips parted.

A sudden crashing sound outside made us both sit up in a flash. We stared at the blankness beyond the tall windows.

“What was that?” I said.

Connor jumped to his feet, rushing over to press his face up against the glass of the window.

“It’s too dark out there. I can’t see a thing. I worry sometimes that Nina is having me followed.”

My hand went to my throat. “Do you think someone followed us here?”

He turned from the window. “We’d probably have seen them on the road. But I’d better check. Stay here, I won’t be long.”

“Be careful.”

Connor marched out the front door. I wrung my hands in my lap, listening to the wind howl. Up here on top of the mountain, it was like summer had never come. I stared into the blue flames and shivered. Did my phone even work up here? I dug for it in my handbag. No service. Figured. I got up and walked around the great room, looking for a landline telephone, but there was none. I didn’t have the nerve to go search one out in the other rooms. I went back to the sofa and downed the rest of the scotch in one go. It warmed me up without calming me down. When the front door banged open suddenly, I jumped. But it was just Connor coming back. I heaved a sigh of relief and stood up to meet him.

“What was it?”

“There’s a big tree branch down on that side of the house. It must’ve come down in the wind. I think that’s what we heard. Come, sit down.”

On the sofa, I drew my knees up to my chest. We sat closer together than before, turning toward each other. Connor picked up his glass and took a big gulp. He seemed tense. I wondered if he’d told me the whole story.

“You’re worried. Your hands are shaking,” I said.

“Honestly. That’s from being around you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Even if they’re true?”

“Shouldn’t you go to the police?” I said, looking to change the subject.

“To say what?”

“That your wife is having you followed?”

“I have no proof. It’s just a feeling.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. But seeing you, I realize I have to do something. I don’t want to go on like this.”

His hazel eyes were so near that I saw my reflection in them. I loved the line of his mouth, so strong and yet so vulnerable. I wanted to kiss him, badly. But he was married, and troubled, and dangerous for me.

“Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I’d married you instead,” he said.