The Wife Between Us(74)

So I chose to accept what Richard told me. Richard loved Duke and knew how much I did, too. He was right; I had been crazy to think he’d do anything to our dog.

All the tension slipped out of my body, leaving me feeling as dense and heavy as cement.

“I’m sorry,” I said as Richard led me upstairs.

When I came out of the bathroom after changing, I saw he had drawn down the covers and put a glass of water on my nightstand.

“Do you want me to lie here with you?”

I shook my head. “You must be hungry. I feel bad that I didn’t make dinner.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

It was as if none of it had ever happened.


The next week, I signed up for a new cooking class—this one Asian themed—and joined a children’s literacy committee at the club. We collected books to distribute to schools in underserved areas in Manhattan. The group met at lunchtime. Wine was always served during those meals, and I was often the first to empty my glass and request a refill. I kept a bottle of Advil in my purse to offset the headaches that daytime drinking sometimes gave me. I looked forward to the meetings because I would take a nap afterward, filling a few more hours. My breath was minty and Visine had erased any redness from my eyes by the time Richard arrived home.

I thought about suggesting we get another dog, maybe a different breed. But I never did. And so our home—no pets, no children—shrank back to being just a house.

I began to loathe it, the constant silence that never let up.





CHAPTER





TWENTY-SEVEN




I place the postcard with the German shepherd back on Aunt Charlotte’s desk. I have missed so much work. I can’t be late again. I tuck the letter to Emma in my purse. I will deliver it after my shift. I imagine I can feel its weight pulling down the strap on my shoulder as I begin my walk to Midtown.

I’m halfway there when my phone rings. For a brief moment, I think, Richard. But when I look down, the number flashing is Saks.

I hesitate, then answer and blurt out, “I’m almost there. Another fifteen minutes, tops.” I pick up my pace.

“Vanessa, I hate to have to do this,” Lucille says.

“I’m so sorry. I lost my cell phone, and then . . .” She clears her throat and I fall silent.

“But we need to let you go.”

“Give me one more chance,” I say desperately. With Aunt Charlotte’s condition, I need to work now more than ever. “I was going through a rough time, but I promise, I won’t— Things are turning around.”

“Being late is one matter. Repeated absences are another. But concealing merchandise? What were you planning to do with those dresses?”

I’m going to deny it, but something in her voice tells me not to bother. Maybe someone saw me remove the three black-and-white floral knit Alexander McQueen dresses and hide them in the stockroom.

It’s futile. I have no defense.

“I have your final check. I’ll mail it to you.”

“Actually, can I come in to pick it up?” I hope I can convince Lucille to give me another chance in person.

Lucille hesitates. “Fine. We’re a little busy at the moment. Stop by in an hour.”

“Thank you. That’s perfect.”

Now I have time to deliver the letter to Emma’s office instead of waiting until after work and leaving it at her home. It’s only been twenty-four hours since I last saw Richard’s fiancée, but that means it’s a day closer to her wedding.

I should be using this time to plan my speech to Lucille. But all I can think of is how I can linger outside in the courtyard and see if Emma steps out for a coffee or to run an errand. Maybe I’ll be able to discern from her expression if Richard told her about his visit.

The last time I entered this sleek high-rise building was for Richard’s office party. The night it all began.

But I have so many other memories of this place: coming here from the Learning Ladder to meet Richard and watching him conclude a business call, his voice so intent it was almost stern, while he made goofy faces at me above the phone receiver; commuting in from Westchester to join Richard and his colleagues for dinner; stopping by to surprise Richard and having him lift me off my feet into a joyful hug.

I push through the revolving door and approach the security guard’s desk. At ten o’clock, the lobby isn’t busy, for which I’m grateful. I don’t want to bump into anyone I know.

I vaguely recognize the guard, so I keep my sunglasses on. I hand over the envelope with Emma’s name printed on it. “Can you deliver this to the thirty-second floor?”

“Just a moment.” He touches a screen on his desk and types in her name. Then he looks up at me. “She no longer works here.” He pushes the envelope back to me across the desk.

“What? When did she—did she quit?”

“I don’t have that information, ma’am.”

A UPS deliverywoman walks up behind me, and the guard shifts his attention.

I take the envelope and walk back through the revolving door. In the nearby courtyard is a little bench where I planned to wait for Emma. Now I collapse onto it.

I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, Richard wouldn’t want his wife working, particularly not for him. I briefly wonder if she has taken another job, but I know she wouldn’t do that right before her wedding. I am equally certain she won’t return to work after she is married, either.