CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
Wednesday, December 19
You looked so scared when you left my town house tonight, Jessica. Don’t you know no harm will befall you?
You are needed too much.
The scheduled dinner with my husband reveals no new information. Thomas easily parries when faced with questions about his day and his plans for the rest of the week. He responds with queries of his own, filling any potential silences with remarks about his delicious pasta Bolognese, and the roasted brussels sprouts he ordered for us to share.
Thomas is an excellent squash player. He is adept at anticipating the angles of his opponent’s serve; he quickly maneuvers around the court.
But even the most accomplished athletes tire under sustained pressure. That’s when mistakes occur.
After the plates are cleared and a delicious apple tarte tatin served for dessert, Thomas playfully inquires whether there is anything special Santa should place under the tree this year.
“It’s always hard to know what to get the woman who has everything,” he says.
Thomas has proven to be a nimble opponent, but now an unexpected opportunity presents itself.
“There is something,” he is told. “What about those delicate silver stacking rings?”
The sudden rigidity in Thomas’s body is palpable.
Another pause.
“Have you seen the ones I’m talking about?”
He casts his eyes down at his plate, feigning a sudden interest in the crumbs of his dessert.
“Oh, maybe, I think I know what you mean,” he says.
“What do you think of them?” he is asked. “Do you think they’re . . . pretty?”
Thomas raises his eyes. He reaches out to touch my hand, lifting it in the air, as if considering how it would appear so adorned.
He shakes his head. His gaze is intent. “They’re not special enough.”
The check is delivered and Thomas glides past the moment.
He is rebuffed at the door of the town house. This is a bit personal to admit, Jessica, but you have to agree we’ve moved beyond the acquaintance stage by now. Physical intimacies with Thomas have not been reestablished since the betrayal of last September. Our marriage is still on shaky ground; they will not be resumed tonight.
Thomas accepts the gentle rejection gracefully. Too gracefully?
His sexual appetite has always been strong. The current enforced marital abstinence will stoke his libido, increasing his urge to succumb to temptation again.
After the door is closed behind Thomas, and the newly installed deadbolt secured behind him, the town house is returned to its usual order. Normally, these chores would have been completed after your departure, but time didn’t allow on this busy day.
The newspaper is gathered from the coffee table and tucked in the recycling bin. The dishwasher is emptied. Then the study is surveyed. The faintest scent of oranges perfumes the room. The bowl containing them is picked up and brought to the kitchen. The oranges are dropped into the trash can.
Citrus fruits have never held much appeal.
After the lights are extinguished on the main level and the stairs climbed, a lilac-colored silk nightgown and matching robe are selected. Night serum is dotted around the eyes with the gentle touch of my ring
finger, then a rich moisturizing cream is applied. Aging, though inevitable, can be managed gracefully with the proper arsenal.
When the evening’s rituals are complete and a glass of water brought to the nightstand, one task remains. The ecru file containing the name JESSICA FARRIS on the tab is lifted from the center of the desk in the small study adjoining the bedroom. It is opened.
The photographs of your parents and Becky are scanned again. In less than twenty-four hours, they will be aboard a plane heading hundreds of miles away. Will their absence feel more pronounced as the gulf between you grows?
Then, a Montblanc fountain pen, a cherished gift from my father, is lifted to a fresh page of the yellow legal pad containing meticulous notes. The new entry is dated Wednesday, December 19, and details of my dinner with Thomas are recorded. Special attention is paid to capturing his reaction to the suggestion that silver stacking rings would be a welcome gift.
Your folder is closed and centered on the desk once again, atop a second folder belonging to another subject. They are no longer being kept with the others. They were brought home a few days ago, after the new lock was installed on the front door.
The name on the tab of the folder beneath yours is KATHERINE APRIL VOSS.