Mother of All Secrets(65)

And grateful to have mom friends who would kill for one another.





Chapter Thirty



Monday, October 12

Later that afternoon, Kira met me outside my apartment, and we walked over to Isabel’s together, single file up Eighty-Eighth Street with our strollers. The street was decorated extravagantly for Halloween: huge inflatable spiders on that fluffy white cotton that could be either a fake spiderweb or fake snow, depending on the holiday. Bats glued to windows. Massive pumpkins with elaborately carved, expressive faces. Upper West Siders go all out for Halloween.

Isabel answered the door. “Hi, girls! Come on in!” She seemed breezy and unbothered, loose cashmere sweater hanging over her thin frame, Naomi on her hip. Selena was already there, sitting barefoot on the floor while Miles gummed Naomi’s shaker. She waved to us and smiled, but I could see the worry on her face.

There was a spread on Isabel’s farm-style table of Orwashers’ sandwiches cut into fourths, their amazing chocolate chip cookies, and of course, two bottles of cold rosé.

“It’s so good to see you guys. I’m happy to be back,” she said, with a wink. We’d wanted to have one last meeting so that we could see each other in person and make sure we were all feeling okay, or as okay as possible, leading up to tonight: essentially, to confirm that no one was backing out. To lead each other off our respective ledges and offer comfort, just as we always had in our group meetings; this time, it just happened to be about something other than our babies. But we’d also agreed to try not to discuss our plan openly again, even behind the closed doors of her home. We had gone over it in Montauk, and we knew what we were doing. It wasn’t worth the risk of accidentally having any type of evidence on our phones or on her Nest cam or having anyone overhear anything at all. We were being careful.

“Vanessa’s on her way,” Isabel informed us, “and she has a surprise.” At that point, I was a hard pass on any more surprises. But her lightness was reassuring.

I poured myself a generous glass of rosé. It would be my only one, though, I promised myself; it was going to be a long day. And night. I needed to stay clear for what was to come. But it was far enough away from nighttime that I thought one glass should be fine. My nerves certainly needed it. “Anyone else?” I asked. Everyone nodded emphatically.

“Connor’s at work, I assume?” Selena asked.

“Of course. He’s not thrilled with me for the media attention.” She smirked. “He values his privacy, after all.”

“Did he . . . buy it?” I ventured cautiously, mouthing the final two words of my sentence.

“I don’t think so, but it doesn’t really matter,” Isabel said with a shrug. “And there’s so much attention on us right now that he can’t take his frustration out on me. He’s on good behavior.” She was right about it not mattering—any opinions Connor had about the true nature of her disappearance would be irrelevant in a matter of hours.

I glanced over to the mantel above their fireplace at a picture of Connor and Isabel dressed up at a party; he was holding her waist tightly, and she was smiling only slightly, her lips closed. I’d never have thought anything of it before, but now that I knew the truth about their marriage, I could see how uncomfortable she was with his grip on her, how his expression was more smug than happy. Prick, I thought silently. As nervous as I was, I also felt an odd tinge of satisfaction knowing what was coming his way.

Vanessa let herself in, calling “Knock knock!” as she entered. “Hi, everyone!” she exclaimed, parking her stroller behind ours in Isabel’s spacious entryway, unstrapping Phoebe, and kissing her several times as she lifted her out of it. “Sorry we’re late.”

“So what’s the surprise?” Kira asked bluntly, wasting no time. “I’m not sure if I’m really too keen on another surprise, to be honest.” We all laughed lightly; we were past politeness, past pretenses at this point. It was nice.

Vanessa set Phoebe down next to Miles on the play mat. She took a giant white box out of the bottom of her stroller. “Milk Bar cake! Have you guys had this? It’s seriously the best. Cake. Ever.”

We all stared at Vanessa blankly. A murder cake? I thought to myself. Really, Vanessa?

As if reading our minds, Vanessa said quickly, “I know, I know. This isn’t exactly a party. But—well, sorry to be morbid, but today’s Allison’s birthday. I mean, obviously we don’t have to sing or anything weird, but I want Phoebe to be able to celebrate her.” Overcome with emotion, she suddenly flew a hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. We circled around her, each putting a hand on her.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m okay. I miss her so much. But I think she would be happy today. Because we’re going to—” She stopped, remembering our rule about not uttering out loud any specifics. “We’re going to do right by her,” she finished. She nodded. “Thank you, guys. Thank you all.”

We looked at each other, and it hit me then that at some point, we’d become actual friends. Not just mom friends. But real ones.

Vanessa disappeared into the kitchen for a moment, and when she came back, she was holding a cake knife. “Jenn, can you do the honors?” she asked. “I need to make up a bottle for this one.” She gestured to Phoebe.