Have You Seen Me?(24)

Back at the apartment, I find a Scandinavian crime drama on Netflix, watch an episode and a half, and then dress for bed. I want sex tonight, I realize, as I massage lotion onto my arms and breasts. My loins aren’t exactly on fire, but I yearn for that kind of contact with Hugh, for us being back in sync sexually. But when I peek my head into the great room, I discover that Hugh’s still ensconced at the table, his brow furrowed in concentration and his fingers drumming lightly on the legal pad. I drift off to sleep alone.

Sunday morning proceeds pretty much like Saturday. Hugh does, however, squeeze in forty-five minutes for a run in the park along with his buddy Tyler, and I use the time to wander the apartment with a cup of tea, finding my bearings. I feel stronger, I realize, more centered.

Midday I text Roger and say there’s no need for him to swing by later and pick me up as planned; I’ll simply meet him at the bistro we’ve decided on. Later, when it’s time to leave, Hugh urges me to let him play escort, but I tell him I want to try it on my own.

And it turns out I’m fine. As soon as I exit the building, in fact, the twinge of nervousness passes. It’s crisp out again today, and sunny, too, one of those October afternoons promising that anything is possible. As I stride the few blocks uptown, I pass several familiar faces from the neighborhood, and a few neighbors nod hello. A little boy in a stroller smiles and gives me a joyful wave.

I suddenly feel like me again, I realize. A city girl with places to go and people to see. This crazy episode is only a blip in my life, I tell myself. I’m going to figure out what the hell caused the fugue state and then guarantee it never occurs again.

My mood sours, however, as I approach the entrance to the bistro and catch a glimpse, through the window, of Marion seated next to my brother, each with a wineglass. I can’t believe it. I pause and consider my next step. I certainly can’t ask her to leave; that would upset Roger too much. Instead, I’ll have a quick drink and beat a retreat.

For half a minute I study them through the window. Marion’s back is to me and she’s shifted her position slightly, so I see only a sliver of my brother now. She’s doing all the talking. I can tell because she has a way of bobbing or cocking her head to punctuate every thought, opinion, conviction, and critique.

I’ve never understood the allure she holds for my brother. I adored his first wife, Kaitlin. She was fun and irreverent—at least in the early days—but over time, years of infertility took a toll on her demeanor and their marriage. Roger had earned millions by that point, and he made sure Kaitlin was compensated generously in the divorce. When he retired early and moved back near Millerstown, he told me he wanted a quieter, easier life, one filled with hiking, kayaking, polishing his culinary skills, and occasional trips into the city for an influx of culture. He eventually bumped into Marion, a former high school classmate, and married her soon after.

I’ve always suspected that what he appreciates about the relationship is the lack of turmoil and angst, compared to the final years with Kaitlin. Marion has no children from her previous marriage and claimed to Roger she never wanted any. Plus, every inch of her seems to relish playing lady of the manor and keeping their life together humming pleasantly along. It just doesn’t include me and Hugh much of the time.

I step away from my position on the sidewalk and push open the door.

“Hey, Ally, there you are,” Roger says, leaping to his feet. He embraces me in a bear hug, and Marion rises, too, brushing my cheek with her lipstick-thick lips. She’s wearing a crisp long-sleeved white blouse, open at the neck to reveal a gold and diamond pendant necklace. Her dark blond hair’s cut short but with a stylish flip in the back.

“It’s nice to see you,” I say, doing my best not to seem vexed. “Please sit.”

“I’m not staying, dear,” Marion tells me. “I know you need time alone with Roger. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to at least say hello.”

That’s funny because it seems that lately she’s been more than happy to pass up any opportunity for that.

“Thank you for understanding.”

She clasps my hands, squeezing my fingers so hard the knuckles pinch against each other. “We’ve missed you,” she says. “And Hugh, too.”

“Likewise.”

Now she narrows her eyes, staring right into mine with a concerned but knowing look. I can smell her fragrance, a mix, it seems, of roses and jasmine. “You’re always in our thoughts, dear. And we just want the best for you.”

I’m not sure what her game is today. I’m almost certain Roger’s stayed mum about our phone conversation, so this might be a simple power play, her way of pretending she’s in the loop. Or maybe she’s rummaging for info. Marion has a truffle hog’s need to sniff and unearth.

“I appreciate that, Marion. And thanks for stopping by. I’ll talk to Roger about the four of us getting together later in the fall.”

“Unfortunately, as you know, it’s not going to be for Thanksgiving this year. With your dad away and not doing the big meal, my younger brother Adam insisted we come to his place. Do you and Hugh have a back-up? I could always ask . . .”

“We’re going to see Hugh’s parents in Boston.”

“Perfect.” She graces me with another lip brush before she departs; Roger is treated to a squeeze of the arm.