The Wife Between Us(15)

Then, as darkness fell, Sam uncorked the first of two bottles of wine, and their conversation turned more personal. They’d talked until three A.M.

Nellie always thought of that as the night when they’d become best friends.

“You look nice,” Samantha said now. “Maybe a little overdressed for babysitting, though.”

“I’m running out first, but I’ll be at the Colemans’ at six-thirty.”

“ ’K. Thanks again for covering for me. . . . I can’t believe I double-booked myself. So unlike me.”

“Yeah, what a shocker.” Nellie laughed, which had probably been Sam’s intention.

“The parents swore they’d be home by eleven, so expect them at midnight. And watch out for Hannibal Lecter when you tell him it’s bedtime. Last time he tried to gnaw on my wrist when I took away his Play-Doh.”

Sam nicknamed all the kids in her class: Hannibal was the biter, Yoda the tiny philosopher, Darth Vader the mouth breather. But when it came to cajoling a kid out of a tantrum, no one could do it better than Sam. And she’d convinced Linda to spring for rocking chairs so that teachers could soothe kids who suffered from separation anxiety.

A horn tooted and Nellie looked up to see Richard’s BMW convertible pulling up. He double-parked next to a white Toyota with a parking ticket on the windshield.

“Nice ride,” Sam called out.

“Yeah?” Richard shouted back. “Let me know if you want to borrow it someday.”

Nellie caught Sam rolling her eyes. More than once, Nellie had wondered if Sam had a nickname for Richard. But Nellie had never asked. “Come on. He’s trying.”

Sam squinted as she looked at Richard again.

Nellie hugged her quickly, then hurried down the steps and toward the car as Richard got out to open the passenger-side door.

He wore aviator sunglasses and a black shirt with jeans, a look Nellie loved. “Hi, beautiful.” He gave her a long kiss.

“Hi yourself.” As she got into the car and twisted around to grab her seat belt, she noticed Samantha hadn’t moved from the doorway. Nellie waved, then turned back to Richard. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” He started the car and pulled away from the curb, heading east onto the FDR Drive.

Richard was quiet during the ride, but Nellie kept seeing the edges of his mouth curl up.

When they exited the Hutchinson River Parkway, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a sleep eye-mask. He tossed it onto her lap. “No peeking until when we get there.”

“This feels a little kinky,” Nellie joked.

“Come on. Put it on.”

She stretched the elastic band across the back of her head. It was too tight for her to peek out the bottom.

Richard made a sharp turn and she was pressed against the door. Without visual clues, she couldn’t brace her body against the vehicle’s movements. And Richard was driving fast, as usual.

“How much longer?”

“Five or ten minutes.”

She felt her pulse quicken. She’d tried to wear a sleep mask on an airplane before, hoping it would help ease her fear. But it had the opposite effect: She’d felt more claustrophobic than ever. Sweat pricked her armpits and she realized she was clutching the door handle. She almost asked Richard if she could just shut her eyes, but then she remembered the way he’d smiled—that boyish grin—as he tossed the mask on her lap. Five minutes. Sixty times five was three hundred. She tried to distract herself by counting the seconds in her head, visualizing the second hand of a clock sweeping around in a circle. She let out a gasp when Richard squeezed her knee. She knew he’d meant it affectionately, but her muscles were tense and his fingers had dug into sensitive spots right above her kneecap.

“Just another minute,” he said.

The BMW stopped abruptly and she heard the motor die. She reached to rip off the mask, but Richard’s voice stopped her: “Not yet.”

She heard him open his door, then he came around to let her out, taking her arm to guide her as they walked on something that felt hard beneath her shoes. Not grass. Pavement? A sidewalk? Nellie was so accustomed to the noise constantly surrounding her in the city that its absence was jarring. A bird started to trill, then its notes abruptly died. They’d only been driving for thirty minutes or so, but she felt as if they’d traveled to a different planet.

“Almost there.” Richard’s breath was warm against her ear. “Ready?”

She nodded. She’d have agreed to anything to take off the mask.

Richard lifted it up and Nellie blinked as sharp sunlight blinded her. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself staring up at a large brick house with a SOLD! sign staked in the front yard.

“It’s your wedding present, Nellie.” She turned to look at him. He was beaming.

“You bought this?” She gaped.

The house was set back from the street and sprawled across a lot that was at least an acre. Nellie didn’t know much about homes—the modest single-floor brick house she’d grown up in in South Florida could be described as “rectangular”—but this one was obviously luxurious. The details as much as the size were the giveaways: an enormous wood door with a stained-glass window and brass handle, manicured gardens rimming the lawn, tall lanterns flanking the walk like sentries. Everything looked pristine, untouched.