Page 59 of Such a Good Wife

“Mom’s telling me about a book she’s reading, bud,” Collin covers. He lifts his eyebrows at me in a self-congratulatory way for thinking of it so quickly.

“What’s the story?” he asks matter-of-factly. Collin pauses, then...

“It’s called The Anesthesiologist and the Gold Digger.”

I choke on my sip of water at his coded description of Gillian and Robert.

“Is it about someone digging for gold?”

“Kind of. It’s about someone digging for Prada bags and diamond jewelry,” Collin says, trying to keep a straight face.

“Sounds dumb,” Ben says.

“It is dumb, bud.” He pats Ben on the back and smiles at me sideways.

“Meghan Markle has a Prada bag. It’s pink,” Ben says.

We both look at him as he picks up his pink crayon and continues his drawing.

“Anyway, you’re golfing tomorrow, right?” I ask.

“Yeah, around ten.”

“So, would you mind if tonight I grabbed a drink with Gill? Rachel has a paper to write, and Claire is resting.”

“Go for it. The boys have plans anyway, right?” he says to Ben who excitedly explains.

“Pacquiao versus Thurman! And we got the good popcorn with the caramel.”

“Boxing?” I say, trying to keep the disapproval out of my voice and pick my battles. He gives an overdramatic shrug and goofy look.

“It was the kid’s pick this time. He chose Pacquiao and Thurman.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I kiss Ben’s head. “No homework?”

“It’s done,” Ben says, not looking up from his art.

“Okay then. I’m gonna go change I guess. Thanks for holding down the fort.”

Upstairs, I poke my head into Claire’s room. She’s asleep in her chair. I turn down a Seinfeld rerun so I can hear anyone coming up the stairs. I quickly go into her medicine cabinet and look for the bottle I need for my plan. As I stand, looking at the labels, I wish I had brought my readers. I squint at an opaque orange bottle when I hear the creak of a floorboard behind me and drop the pills into the sink.

“Mom?”

“Jesus.” I hold my hand to my heart, catching my breath. Rachel has just appeared without a sound. She holds a tampon box in one hand. In the other is my burner phone.

“What are you doing?” she asks. I stop cleaning up the pills and stare at her.

“Nothing. Just—getting Claire’s dinner pills ready before I go. Honey...” I don’t say anything, I just take the phone from her. “Why were you in our bathroom?”

“I needed...” She stops and looks at the tampon box with a flushed face. “Why do you have a creepy second phone hidden in here? What is this?”

“It’s...my phone.” I stumble over my words. I was not at all prepared to be on the spot like this.

“It’s a flip phone. It looks like 2005 called. That’s not yours.”

“Keep those,” I say, nodding to the box she holds loosely by her side to distract attention from it, “and get ready to go to Katie’s.”

“I’ve seen those cheap throwaway phones in movies. Sooo, you’re not gonna tell me why you have it?”

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