214 Palmer Street(23)
Sarah knew Kirk well enough to know that his calm demeanor masked his small-child excitement. Going to the auto show was Christmas in July for him. She’d accompanied him the first year of their marriage and had loved seeing the new models on display in the McCormick Center, but as the day went on, her interest waned as Kirk’s had grown. After hours of following him mutely while he made small talk with business reps and arranged for dinner meetings, she declined to join him for dinner and instead spent the evenings with room service and a novel. He’d invited her the year after, but both of them knew she’d be happier at home.
This year, he’d opted to go for only two days, but not after checking in with her. “You really don’t mind?” he’d asked. “I can send Eric in my place.”
“I really don’t mind,” she’d said. Shortly after that, Judy had called.
Judy was a whirlwind, a chatterbox with a big laugh, which was a nice counterpoint to Sarah’s quiet nature. Judy talked enough for the two of them, so Sarah didn’t have to fill the pauses with small talk. Her mother-in-law made plans for mani-pedis for both of them. Afterward, there was a reservation for lunch at the Manna Café, a new vegetarian restaurant. “I took Bert here once,” she’d told Sarah, laughing. “After we got home he made himself a salami sandwich. Said he was still hungry.”
The morning passed pleasantly enough. The mani-pedi included a foot massage that felt like heaven. Their lunches—an exotic salad for Sarah, a vegetable stir-fry for Judy—were just right. “I can almost feel my body thanking me for the nutrients,” Judy said, lifting her chin and chuckling.
When they returned to her in-laws’ house, Sarah followed Judy into the living room and watched as Kirk’s mom went to a cabinet and pulled out a stack of books. “I thought it would be fun to show you some family photos of Kirk as a kid.” She chuckled. “The ones from his awkward years, the ones he’d rather you not see.”
Judy settled on the sofa, patted the seat next to her and opened a photo album on the coffee table. “The dreaded middle school years!” she proclaimed. Judy chattered away telling stories of family vacations and pointing out her son’s unflattering hairstyles. “Believe it or not—Kirk with bangs! At the time he thought this was a great idea.” She laughed again. “I tried to talk him out of it, but my opinion didn’t carry much weight back then.” She shook her head. “Teenagers.”
Flipping through the pages of photos, Sarah watched as her husband aged from prepubescent adolescent to young man, his face morphing gradually from chubby cheeks and chin to strong jaw and sharp angles. In high school, the pictures transitioned from family photos to friend photos. School events. Baseball games. Young Kirk with a gang of kids around a bonfire. In another, they were playing video games back in the Adens’ old house.
Turning another page, she came across a grouping of photos showing what appeared to be the same cluster of kids sitting on bean bag chairs, a concrete block wall in the background. The quality of the photos was poor, dark around the edges with the faces of the kids lit up by the camera flash. In each image one person was missing, as if they’d taken turns with the camera. Mentally Sarah counted and came up with five in all, including the kid taking the picture. Kirk and Gavin she knew, of course. It was within character that Gavin wielded some kind of toy weapon in all of the shots—a curved gray knife from what she could tell. With his arm held out, only half of the knife was in the pictures. She studied the other three faces, then sat up straight, recognizing one.
“Is that Clarice Carter?” She turned to Judy.
“Sure is,” she said with a nod. “You know her?”
“Yes, I do. She works with me.” Sarah tried to process the idea that Clarice, her friend from the office, was in these photos from Kirk’s teenage years, sitting cozily between her husband and Gavin, her outstretched arms slung tightly around their necks. Such an intimate sight that it was jarring, even if it did happen a long time ago. “I knew she went to their high school, but I didn’t know she hung out with Kirk.”
Why hadn’t her husband mentioned this? She’d talked about Clarice countless times after she’d been hired. She specifically remembered telling Kirk a story Clarice had shared with the office. Apparently, Clarice had befriended an elderly gentleman when she was in her twenties. The man had been all alone in the world, and in desperate need of help, so she’d moved in with him and tended to him as he lay dying. Clarice had tears in her eyes when she said, “Can you imagine my shock when I found out he’d left me his entire estate? I just couldn’t believe it. I had the attorney do a search for family members, but he couldn’t find any relatives. I donated a good part of the money to a charity Ralph really believed in. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
It was a noteworthy story, one that had impressed Sarah. If anything, this would have been Kirk’s opening to talk about his connection to Clarice, but he’d only commented that he’d known her in high school. He’d said it so casually that she’d envisioned them as acquaintances, giving a nod as they passed in the hall or making small talk before the start of class. Finding out they’d been friends was a shock. And not just friends, but close friends by the looks of it.
It was odd that Clarice had never mentioned it either. Very odd.
“That summer she and the boys were thick as thieves. Her parents got divorced a year or so before and then her dad moved out of state and dropped out of sight. Her mom had a new boyfriend and wasn’t home much. Poor thing. I always got the impression that Clarice was trying to fill the gap,” Judy said. “Looking for love anywhere she could find it.”