The Accomplice(46)

The bed was made with military corners, Sam’s belongings tucked away in some mysterious location.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Luna said, exiting the guest room.

Casey dropped her bag by the bed, riffled through her purse, withdrew a pack of almonds, and handed them to her husband. “Mason here is going to eat these nuts and take a nap. I will have an adult beverage,” Casey said on her way out of the room.

“Maybe I want an adult beverage,” said Mason.

“After your nap,” said Casey, closing the door behind her.

The dynamic of Mason and Casey’s marriage offended Owen’s strong notions of autonomy in relationships. It seemed mothering and decidedly unsexy. Luna argued that it was simply a preemptive effort to keep their relationship copacetic. She had, in fact, seen how Mason could unravel when he was overtired and his blood sugar plummeted.

In the kitchen, Luna mixed a negroni for Casey without inquiring what she wanted. She poured herself the dregs of a mid-shelf bourbon bottle.

“Sam at work?” Casey asked.

“He won’t be here for the wake. I guess that’s what we’re calling it. Or ‘a gathering with liquor near an urn,’ as Sam calls it.”

“Where is he?” Casey asked.

“His mother has been ill for a while. He needed to see her again.”

“Did he?” Casey said, sipping her drink and delivering a probing gaze. “You’re having issues, aren’t you?”

“Most of the time I find your bluntness comforting,” Luna said, “but today I need you to back off.”

“Duly noted,” Casey said, raising her glass. “To backing off.”

“To backing off,” said Luna.



* * *



—

The guests at Irene’s half-assed wake were mostly neighbors and a few old friends of Irene’s mother. The absence of attendees who were genuinely close to the deceased was notable, especially in a house that size. People loitered and drank, and a few casual acquaintances, mostly from the neighborhood, caught up with one another.

Owen was grateful to have old college friends around to save him from the people he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Several times, Mason had to rescue Owen from Maya or one of the ten or so elderly people in attendance whose connection to his dead wife he could not establish. To be fair, he hadn’t tried. (They were, in fact, the more-mobile residents of Green Pine Senior Living, where Irene played cards once a week.) Luna could never figure out how or why Owen’s disdain for Mason had faded. But the two had been solid for years. Mason’s first job was coding at a start-up that paid mostly in stock options. It went public after three years. He took the next year off to marry Casey and travel.

Then he and Casey invented an app called Sherp (short for Sherpa, he explained) designed to talk users through hallucinogenic (and occasionally cannabinoid) drug experiences. While the app was indeed used for that purpose, it was its unintended use for a wide range of psychological challenges—from childhood tantrums to general anxiety disorder—that made it wildly successful.

After the second windfall, Mason and Casey adjusted to their wealth, spending money almost as fast as they were earning it. There were times when even Luna was put off by Casey and Mason’s excesses. When the couple purchased a six-bedroom house in Chester County, Pennsylvania, Luna asked how many children they were planning on having, suggesting that four was the minimum for a house that size. When she commented to Owen about the environmental footprint of such extravagance, he noted that Mason had plans to install solar panels. Luna remained baffled by Mason and Owen’s post-college friendship. But it made her life easier, so she didn’t question it. It didn’t hurt that Mason and Casey were ardent supporters of Owen’s work. In fact, there were a number of years when their patronage kept him afloat.

A few hours into the wake, it was Owen’s turn to rescue Mason from Maya. Maya had asked the what do you do question, which Mason had unwisely answered by telling her about his and Casey’s most recent venture. The company name was Belcopa. In a nutshell, they made sugar pills, which doctors could use in placebo therapy. Mason was accustomed to questions whenever he explained their business model, but there was not enough time in the day to field Maya’s endless interrogatives.

“My husband takes Lipitor. Are you saying that we could be paying for something that has no pharmaceutical value?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Mason said. “It’s mostly used for pain.”

“That sounds unethical,” Maya said.

“You know what’s unethical?” Mason said. “Overprescribing highly addictive and lethal pain meds.”

Owen put his arm around Mason and nudged him in the direction of the backyard.

“Your wife needs you,” Owen said. “She’s outside.”

Casey was, in fact, in the kitchen, discouraging Vera from using the microwave to heat a lasagna. Vera, already deeply intoxicated, wobbled on her one-inch heels. Luna kept suggesting that Vera eat something, until Vera snapped back, “There’s nothing here I’d eat.”

“Why don’t you go outside or something,” Casey said to Luna. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m making you nervous?” Luna said, ticking her head slightly at Vera.