The Wife Who Knew Too Much(36)
“I don’t care. I asked for your help with my husband, and you disappeared. If you want to keep working for me, you need to learn to follow orders.”
The crowd on the terrace was thinning as guests migrated to the beach, and Nina’s raised voice attracted attention. People were turning to look. Kovacs’s jaw clenched. Men hated being ordered around by a woman, especially in front of people. Well, too bad. She paid his salary, just like she supported Connor. They needed to learn who was in charge.
“Do you hear me?” she said.
“Loud and clear, ma’am.”
“Good. Connor went down to the beach. As soon as the fireworks are done, find him and bring him to my office. Let’s get this over with.”
As Nina turned and walked toward the house, a round of percussive booms sounded, making her jump. She’d thought it was gunshots. But it was the start of the fireworks display. A sulfuric smell invaded the tent, and it seemed like the world was burning down around her, along with her marriage.
18
TABITHA
It was late afternoon on the Fourth of July, and I’d been driving all day. New Hampshire to the Hamptons on a holiday weekend was slow going—especially when you needed to pull into random gas stations at intervals to throw up in their bathrooms. The sleeve of saltines and two-liter bottle of water that I’d brought along for nourishment were long gone by the time I hit the outskirts of Southampton, and my whole body shook with fatigue. It wasn’t safe to keep driving. I needed to find a place to stay. I’d take a nap, have something to eat, and gather my strength before I tried to find Connor.
I drove around for a long time. All the affordable motels had NO VACANCY signs, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise. This trip had been doomed from the start. Dropping in on Connor unannounced on the Fourth of July was a terrible idea—one I never would’ve entertained had I not been desperate. I’d Googled “Windswept” and gotten his address—correction, Nina’s address—but I had no real plan, other than walking up to the front door and knocking. Nina would probably sic the dogs on me. Hell, she probably knew I was coming. I had a sick feeling that I was being followed again, though not by the Suburban this time. I’d noticed the same nondescript brown Ford Fiesta with New Hampshire plates behind me at several points during the drive, though it wasn’t there now. Maybe it was a coincidence. But the New Hampshire plates had me worried it might be Derek.
My body was stiff from hours of driving and I was on the verge of tears when I finally spotted a motel with a VACANCY sign. The Ocean Vista had a parking lot full of potholes and a sad-looking swimming pool that backed up to the road. There was zero view of the beach, but Google Maps said it was a twenty-minute drive to Nina’s house, and I wasn’t likely to do any better. I parked by the office and got out of the car. The air felt heavy and smelled of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Inside the office, the humidity was thicker than outside. An air conditioner buzzed, unable to keep up with the oppressive heat. A man in a turban sat behind the counter talking on a cell phone in a language I didn’t recognize. Finally, he hung up.
“I saw you have a vacancy. How much is a room for the night?” I asked.
“Two hundred and thirty-nine dollars.”
“Really?”
I winced. That was nuts for this place.
He shrugged. “It’s July Fourth. You’re lucky I had a cancellation. You won’t find another vacancy between here and Montauk.”
He was probably right. Anyway, I didn’t have the strength to keep looking. I handed over my debit card.
In the room, I collapsed on the bed and pulled scratchy covers over me that smelled faintly of cigarettes. Fatigued like nothing I’d ever known, I was asleep instantly. When I opened my eyes again, it was dark out. Feeling dazed, I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. At least I looked better than I felt. My eyes were bright, my hair was shiny, and spots of color burned in my cheeks. I’d brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes. I traded my crumpled jeans and T-shirt for black pants and a sleeveless black top. They were basic, from Old Navy, but serious enough for this daunting venture. With flats and a swipe of lipstick, I was as ready as I’d ever be to find Connor and tell him my news.
Just my luck—the storm that had rumbled in the distance all afternoon reached the motel as I stepped out of my room. The first fat drops fell, splatting on my bare arms and making me shiver. As I ran to my car, the rain became a deluge. I dove headfirst into the Toyota, already soaked.
The car smelled rank after the long drive. So much water sluiced down the windshield that I could hardly see out. It was like driving through a car wash. As I turned the ignition, a crack of thunder exploded close by. In the glare of the headlights, the driveway was a boiling cauldron, drops hitting the ground with such ferocity that they bubbled back up. Rain pounded the roof. A bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a loud clap. The orange light on the dashboard reminded me that I was nearly out of gas. I’d wind up stranded on the side of the road before I could even find a gas station. I couldn’t go back into my room without getting drenched, and these were the only clothes I had. I turned off the car engine and waited.
Desperate as I was to talk to Connor, I didn’t feel safe driving in this mess. After ten minutes passed with no letup, I called an Uber. Surge pricing was in effect, forty-six bucks for a twenty-minute ride, my food budget for a week. But if I didn’t do this now, I’d chicken out, and go back to New Hampshire without ever telling Connor about the baby.