Dead to Her(48)

“How lovely.” Drips from an ice block.

“Oh, I meant to say,” Marcie ignored the other woman’s cool and kept her own sting sweet. “I’m so sorry for your loss. It must be hard to be on your own at your age.”

“Thank you. Yes, it was very sad.” Jacquie glanced down at Jason and then back at Marcie. “Of course, some losses turn out to be gains. And who knows what the future holds for any of us.”

“God willing, only good things.”

Jacquie tossed her hair carefully over one shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two to your afternoon. Annabelle is waiting inside. I only stopped to apologize to Jason for missing his call a couple of days ago. I was at the spa. I meant to call back, but you know how it is, you get started doing something else and then forget.” She smiled, razor thin and just as sharp. “I guess that might be my age too.” And then she was gone, breezing past Marcie and leaving only a waft of expensive and heavily floral perfume in her wake. It nauseated Marcie. Maybe that was the point.

Jason had called Jacquie. The thought was so absurd Marcie couldn’t quite absorb it. It sat like oil on the surface water of her mind as she took the chair opposite her husband. “What did—” she started. What did Jacquie mean she missed your call? was the embarrassingly passive-aggressive question she was going to ask, but then Jason’s phone started ringing.

“William,” he said, cutting her off as he picked up the phone, leaving all her confusion and anger caught in her throat. Why the hell did you call Jacquie? Maybe that was the approach she should take. No, that was how she wanted to confront him, but this was Jason. Aggression would get her nowhere. When he finished talking to William she’d ask him casually, as if she didn’t care. Not that he’d believe that, but politeness was the Southern way, and she’d have half a chance of getting some truth out of him that way.

She looked over at her husband. His face had already been like thunder and nothing William was saying was cheering him up. His jaw had tightened and his knuckles were white on the cell. She listened to his side of the conversation. Who? When? Of course, absolutely. Looking forward to getting it done. His upbeat tone of voice was so at odds with his expression that it made Marcie shiver.

The waiter came by and she murmured an order of two margaritas, even though Jacquie’s unwelcome presence had killed her enthusiasm for an hour at Sacchi’s, and no doubt Jason’s too, but why should they give her the satisfaction of driving them out as if they should still be ashamed? Jacquie was the past. Forgotten. And Marcie had never been ashamed anyway. All was fair in love and war. All was fair in life if it got you what you wanted.

Finally, Jason hung up. “What is it?” she asked. “He hasn’t changed his mind?”

“No, nothing like that. Nothing important. He’s getting an audit done before the sale. Figures it’s due diligence, which I guess it is.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“There isn’t one. But they won’t start until after the holiday. It’ll delay everything by a month or so.” He flashed her a smile. “Guess I’m impatient.”

“The time’ll go fast enough.” Their drinks appeared and Marcie forced herself to take a sip, even though an alcohol haze was the last thing she wanted now and the sharpness just tasted sour. “How come you called Jacquie?”

“Why do you think?” He was still staring at his phone. “Because Keisha said she was back. I just wondered why. You know how she can be. I didn’t want any trouble.”

“She must be done with all that by now, surely?”

“She’s still a bitch.” His jaw tightened again.

“What did she say to you? You looked totally pissed.”

“Nothing. The usual. How shitty I was.” He looked up, irritated, and sipped his drink. “Can we forget about Jacquie? We’re having this great day, how about we don’t ruin it?”

It was already ruined, Marcie wanted to say, but didn’t, not wanting a fight, especially not here. Instead, they sat in an awkward silence, Jason’s mind elsewhere, their time occasionally marked out by Marcie’s asking an innocuous question about a TV show or a friend, answered in monosyllables. Jason was angry about something, she knew that, but who had annoyed him? Jacquie or William? Or was it a combination of both? The way he had looked while on the phone had been so strange; Jason’s voice had been upbeat, yet it seemed to come from a robotic or dead body. So disconnected.

They finished their drinks and left, Marcie claiming to be tired from a day of sea breezes and fresh air, but in reality wanting to get out of the goldfish bowl of Sacchi’s. Jason didn’t argue, and when they got home he went straight for a long shower before making supper, which they ate with the TV drowning out the stilted atmosphere between them. When they went to bed, he didn’t try to touch her and she found she didn’t much care. Once again, she felt filled with mistrust of her husband. What was he holding back? Why wouldn’t he share with her?

She finally fell into a fitful sleep, and this time, she felt no surprise when she woke in the dark to an empty bed and no sign of Jason’s phone on the nightstand. Another late-night call. Spiders of suspicion emerged, scuttering from the corners of her mind, forming webs to ensnare dark thoughts: If it wasn’t Keisha, then who was he talking to? Jacquie maybe? Was it whatever she’d been whispering that had soured his mood? Marcie hated to admit it, but Jacquie had looked good. Could Jason be secretly in touch with her again? Was it Jacquie who’d been sitting in her car outside their house when Jason was away? Had she hoped he’d sneak out and talk to her? Maybe now that the surgeon was dead and Jason was heading to the highest rungs of their social ladder, he wanted an old-school Southern wife again. Maybe Jacquie was toying with her, wanting her to feel as bad as she had when Marcie was in the process of stealing her life from her. All’s fair in love and war.