Every Last Secret(14)

In contrast, Matt was wonderful. Gracious throughout all her snide remarks. Funny and endearing, with a catalog of stories that kept us laughing during the entire meal. He was obviously head over heels for Neena, despite her neurotic behaviors, which only made me like him more. He and William had hit it off immediately, talking politics and sports, their conversations often leaving Neena and me to our own discussions.

Now, she leaned forward and gently touched my arm. “That couple you introduced us to? The Whitlocks? You said that you sit on a board with them?”

I nodded. “The charity wine auction. It’s an annual event that raises money for local and national charities. It’s the largest fundraiser in the county. Last year, it raised over ten million dollars.”

“I’d love to be a part of that.” She scooted her chair closer to mine.

“We’re always looking for volunteers.” I beamed. “I can add you to the list.”

“Well, sure, sure.” She waved off the mention with a flip of her skinny wrist. “But I was thinking more of the board. Helping with the administration of the event.”

I struggled not to laugh. She wanted to be on the charity wine auction board? It was the most prestigious event in town. I’d spent the last decade building the relationships and climbing the complicated maze of social ladders required to lead that board. I lifted my wineglass and took a moment to respond.

“The board applications are accepted in July.” I shrugged. “I’ll be sure to let you know when they open and can give you a recommendation.”

“That would be great.” She smiled, and the gesture pulled unnaturally at the tight skin by her ear, a telltale sign of a facelift—and a poor one at that. During the meal, I’d kept a careful catalog of her surgeries. A neck job, definitely. Eye work, if I had to guess. Breast job—without a doubt. Her thin lips would be the next item on the surgeon’s block, if I were a betting woman. And it was sad. Beneath all that, she had probably been a natural beauty.

Under the table, William’s hand settled on my knee, and he gave it a tender squeeze. I placed my hand over his and met his eyes. He smiled, and I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to be alone. Our last date here had stretched until almost midnight, as we had taken our time with the tasting menu, polishing off two bottles of wine during the five-course meal. He leaned forward, and I met him over a piece of kataifi-wrapped langoustine.

“You look good enough to eat,” he whispered in my ear.

I pressed a kiss against his cheek, then straightened, unsurprised to find Neena watching, her gaze darting between William and me as if paranoid that we were talking about her. I turned to Matt. “How’s the house? Any unexpected issues?”

“No issues,” Neena said quickly. “It’s wonderful. Really needs very little at all.”

“It’s not anything compared to your house,” Matt began.

“But it’s great.” Neena’s grin grew strained. “Matt, eat the rest of the sablefish.”

“We’ve always loved that lot,” I offered. “It’s so private. And the neighborhood is so safe.”

“I’ve got to be honest.” Matt wiped at his mouth, oblivious to the daggers his wife was sending his way. “I expected, with it sitting vacant for so long, that it’d be ransacked. Normally you’ll see the appliances stolen, light fixtures gone—even the copper wiring stripped out.”

“This isn’t Bayview,” Neena said sharply. “It’s Atherton. Things like that don’t happen here.”

“It’s true.” William settled back in his seat as the delicate sounds of a harp began in the background. “Plus, everyone’s so nosy. You got a hundred housewives spying on each other through diamond-studded binoculars. Add in the private police force, security cameras, and guard gate, and no one even tries to do anything. That house could have sat wide-open for the last five years and no one would have taken a thing from it.”

I nodded in agreement, thinking of the sweet irony that the tennis bracelet on my wrist had come from Claudia Baker’s personal collection. “It’s true. Honestly, we don’t even lock our doors most of the time.” I sectioned off a bite of the poularde. “In the daytime, there’s no point, especially in the backyard. I’d rather come in to the fresh breeze, especially when the gardens are in bloom.”

William frowned at me. “You should keep the doors locked.”

I shrugged off the instruction. “You focus on WT and I’ll watch the house.” He chuckled, and I pierced a wedge of Wagyu and held it out to him, smiling as he ate it off my fork.

“I always lock the house,” Neena said firmly. “They say anyone would steal if given enough opportunities and lack of consequences.”

“I agree.” William nodded, and I didn’t miss the way Neena straightened with pride at his support. “It’s like leaving keys in a Lamborghini. At some point, even if not to steal it, someone is going to borrow it for a test drive.”

“Exactly.” She picked up her almost-empty glass of wine, and I wondered if she had changed the locks since they’d moved in. If so, had they gone to the trouble with every door? I thought of my key ring at home, a duplicate of the one I had returned to Claudia Baker’s junk drawer.

“Neena, how is Winthorpe Tech?” I smiled at her. “Everyone treating you well?”