Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(51)

“Um…can I put you on hold for a few minutes, Lauren?”

“Sure.”

Canned music fills the line.

Lauren looks at the girls, sitting there in front of their untouched bowls of soggy cereal, and offers a bright, fake smile.

“Is she going to get Daddy?” Lucy asks hopefully.

“I think so.”

Please, please, please let that be the case.

“Eat your breakfast, girls.”

Sadie pushes her cereal away. “It’s mushy.”

“I’ll pour you a fresh bowl.”

Sadie shakes her head vehemently. Watching Lucy put an arm around her little sister’s shoulders and give her a squeeze, Lauren fights a wave of apprehension.

“Lauren?” Georgia is back on the line.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to transfer you to HR.”

Homeroom? is Lauren’s first thought, living, as she does, in her own little suburban mom world, far from corporate America. What the heck is Georgia talking a—

Oh.

HR. Human resources.

That makes about as much sense as homeroom, though. Maybe they routinely transfer all the nosy ex-wives to HR.

“Thanks, Georgia.”

“Sure. Good luck.”

Good luck?

Does Georgia, too, suspect that Nick is in some kind of trouble? Does she know something Lauren doesn’t?

Lauren realizes, with an odd burst of relief, that “good luck” is the kind of thing you say to a spurned woman calling around looking for her ex-husband.

The coffee she drank earlier burns in her stomach as she waits on hold again. She busies herself unloading the dishwasher, not wanting the girls to see her face. Chauncey comes sniffing around the clean dishes and she nudges him away with her shin.

When she arrived home ten minutes ago, she’d been glad to see that the dog had been walked and returned to the house without incident. Now the replacement dog walker is the least of her concerns.

“Mrs. Walsh?” an unfamiliar voice asks over the phone.

“Yes?”

“This is Marcia Kramer. Georgia Ames said you needed to speak to me.”

“No, I actually… I needed to speak to my husb—ex-husband. I’m not sure why she transferred me to you.”

“She did say that Nick was expected this morning but isn’t in yet.”

“So he is back from vacation, then?”

“He’s due back today, yes. But we haven’t heard from him and he’s apparently running late.”

“I see.”

In the awkward moment of silence that follows, Lauren’s thoughts race through various reasons Nick might not have returned her calls or shown up for work this morning. All are grim.

“I can get a message to him when he arrives, if you’d like?”

“Thank you. If you could just have him call home—me—the kids.” She hates that she’s stammering, hates that Georgia put her in the position of having to talk to a stranger about her ex-husband’s whereabouts, hates that Nick is missing, and—because it’s always there, even now, amid the worry—hates that he left her.

She hangs up the phone and turns to see the girls’ expectant faces.

“Daddy’s not at work yet,” she tells them.

“Can you call Beth?”

Under ordinary circumstances, Lauren might have snapped at Lucy’s suggestion. Now, she actually considers it—albeit only briefly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Anyway, I don’t even have her number.”

“I do. It’s programmed into my cell.”

That gives Lauren pause. She doesn’t particularly want to imagine her daughter cozily chatting on the phone with Nick’s mistress.

“Dad gave it to me,” Lucy explains, “in case I ever need him and can’t get ahold of him.”

“You can always get ahold of me.”

“Mom! I know that. He meant on weekends when we’re at his house, or whatever.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to get ahold of him when you’re at his house?”

“You know…if he has to go out for a little while.”

Lauren stares. “Dad goes out without you when you’re at his house?”

“Sometimes. You go out when we’re at your house, too.”

“Oh, Lucy, come on. This isn’t my house. It’s our house. And Dad is supposed to be spending that weekend time with you, not…”

Her. Beth. The other woman.

Why, though, is she surprised?

For the first time in a long time, she allows herself to consider that Nick might actually be missing of his own accord. That he might have carelessly gone off someplace with no regard for the kids.

Maybe she won’t call the cops after all. Not just yet. And she definitely won’t call Beth.

“So do you want it, Mom?”

“What?”

“Beth’s number.”

It’s not Lucy’s fault Nick has a girlfriend whose number is in Lucy’s phone.

This is so not the life Lauren had envisioned…for any of them.

It’s been a long time since she cried over her failed marriage, but suddenly, she can feel hot tears in her eyes. She turns away quickly.