Page 51 of Such a Good Wife

“I don’t think so,” I start to say, but then I look at it more closely. As I open the locket, I see what it is.

“What?” Lacy asks, reading my expression.

I look daftly to the waiter and back down to the locket in my hand. Inside is a photo of Henry. Henry, Luke’s beloved, deceased dog. It had been handed down from his grandmother, he told me, and he said he always had it on him—in a pocket or on his keys. I lose my breath.

“Mel?” Lacy asks, but I look at the waiter, angrily.

“Is this a joke?”

“Uhhh.” He expected gratitude, I’m sure, and is startled by my fury. “No? It’s...”

“Why do you have this?”

He’s taken aback again by the venom in my voice, but I don’t care.

“You dropped it?” He says this like it’s a question. He looks frightened of me. Lacy looks a little scared herself.

“No. I didn’t. Where did you get it?”

“Uh...” he stutters. “Sorry. I don’t—I...A lady gave it to me a little while ago, and said you dropped it when you came in. I was just really busy at the moment. So...yeah. I just—forgot and then, as soon as I had a free second...” He makes a gesture like “there you go.”

“Who? Who gave it to you?”

“Look, I got nine tables. I don’t know. Some lady.”

“What did she look like?” I demand, but he’s backing away with his tray, clearly wanting to be rid of me.

“It’s busy, I don’t know. Average. Old.”

“How old?” I stand, asking questions lightning-fast so he doesn’t walk away before I get answers. It would look unhinged if I were to physically grab him by the collar, but I might if I need to. I’m standing toe to toe with the exasperated waiter now. “How old?” I repeat.

“Like thirty, thirty-five,” he says, and then adds quick details before turning to go. “Like brown hair, kinda long. Normal, I don’t know. I gotta work.” He walks off quickly and greets a new table.

“What the hell?” Lacy says, looking at me with her mouth open and in a slight smile, maybe impressed with the assertiveness she didn’t expect from someone she thinks is a rich, suburban lady who has it all. There is no plausible explanation I could give her for my behavior.

“I...this was stolen from me.” I shove it in my pocket so she can’t examine it. Did Luke share it with her too?

“What do you mean?”

“A while back. It was just missing, so I know I didn’t drop it like he said. I haven’t had it in weeks.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yeah. I mean whoever gave it to him must have had it. Why give it back?” Am I getting too good at coming up with a quick lie, or do I sound like a lunatic? I can’t tell.

“Sounds like someone’s messing with you,” she says, seemingly less engaged in the problem than I thought. She dips three fries at a time into ketchup and crams them in her mouth. I guess she sees things I can’t even imagine at the club every night and this doesn’t even warrant a second thought.

“Yeah,” I say, because someone is indeed messing with me. Is this a warning? A threat? A woman gave it to him. I didn’t expect that. Who could it possibly be? I take my wallet out and lay down some cash on the table. More than enough to cover the bill.

“I’m not feeling all that well. I know I dragged you here, but can we take a rain check? Maybe get together in a few days.”

I see her eyeing the sixty dollars, mentally calculating that the bill is probably less than thirty. Her eyes widen a moment.

“Yeah, of course,” she says, pretending she’s not looking at the money. I don’t care if she pockets the rest. I just need to go. I try to slow down so I don’t run out of the place. The last thing I need is witnesses discussing my odd behavior with the cops.

“Bye, Ronny Lee.” I touch his little hand and his chubby baby fingers wrap around my thumb. “Bye-bye,” I repeat, and he coos. I smile at Lacy before I walk, deliberately controlled, out of the café.

In the safety of my car, I scan the parking lot, looking for anyone who might be watching me. Because I am being watched. I can’t see anything out of the ordinary. I pull the locket out of my pocket and open it. The image of a sweet-faced border collie looks back at me with a black-and-white muzzle and one ear bent. The patina on the metal shows its age, that it’s a well-loved keepsake. Who would have this? What do they want?

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