Page 11 of A Talent for Murder

“So, I got married.”

“Oh yeah? When was this?”

“A little over a year ago. Alan is slightly older than me. He sells educational materials, so he’s always traveling.” Martha didn’t really want to go into what he sold just yet because people always had a lot of questions.

“And has he broken your love curse?”

“Oh, you remember that?”

“Of course I do. In fact, I was pretty sure you were calling about something to do with Ethan Saltz.”

“Ugh, that name. Just hearing it makes me shiver.”

“You haven’t heard from him?”

“No, thank God. I’m calling about my husband. I think I just need to tell someone what’s going on with him.”

“Is he hurting you?”

“No, no. Not at all. He’s this totally sweet guy, at least I think he is. Hey, I wasn’t going to ask this, but now that we’re having this conversation... Do you think... Is there any possibility we could meet up and do this face-to-face?”

“Sure,” Lily said. “You live in Maine?”

“I live in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, but I work in Maine. I could come to you, though. Alan’s away on one of his trips. I’m at work, but we are well staffed and I could leave anytime.” Suddenly, more than anything, Martha wanted to actually see Lily. She didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone.

“I’m happy to meet halfway. I wouldn’t mind taking a drive today.”

Martha brought up a map on her desktop computer and they decided to meet for an early dinner in Worcester, Massachusetts. She picked an Irish pub called Tipsy McStaggers because it was located right off the interstate, and they agreed to meet at four in the afternoon.

After hanging up Martha felt so relieved that she burst into sudden unexpected tears. She hadn’t known what to expect from the phone call, and part of her had wondered if Lily even remembered her. The fact that she had, and that she’d even remembered the love curse, was somehow a huge relief. And now they were going to meet in person and Martha could tell Lily what she suspected, and hopefully Lily would laugh the whole thing off, talk her down off the ledge. And that would be the end of that.

After the crying jag, Martha sat for a moment and composed herself. She sent a quick email to her staff saying that she would be leaving early that day, then tried to get some emails done that she’d been avoiding. Mary, the oldest librarian on staff, popped her head into Martha’s office to ask a question, and then, after Martha had answered it, said, “Hon, are you okay?”

Martha reflexively swiped at an eye and said, “Yes, fine.” When Mary didn’t immediately leave the room, she added, “I just talked to a friend who’s going through a very rough time in her marriage. That’s why I’m leaving early, to go and meet her.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Mary said, and frowned.

After Mary left the office, apparently satisfied with the half-truth, Martha decided it was time to leave. She stopped off at home to get her notebook, and decided to change. What was the right thing to wear when you were meeting an old friend to talk to her about your suspicious husband? She finally selected her best jeans, the slightly worn ones, and a printed top that one of the younger librarians had once referred to as “boho.”

Tipsy McStaggers was an enormous restaurant on an acre of parking lot, its front paneled in green-painted wood and festooned with flags and strung lights and Guinness signs. It was bright outside in the parking lot, and Martha’s eyes took a moment to adjust as she stepped into the dark interior of the restaurant. It was like a Walt Disney version of an Irish pub, every nook and cranny plastered with a shamrock or a leprechaun or another Guinness ad. A hostess ambled over and asked if it was just her.

“I’m meeting someone but I’m early.”

“You can sit wherever you want.”

She wandered into the confusing restaurant, passing two alcoves that each had a small bar and seating area, then went up two steps to what seemed to her to be the main bar area. She climbed onto a padded stool, ordered a Guinness from the college-age bartender, and waited. From where she was, she could look back toward the front entrance of the restaurant, and she found herself alternating between tiny sips of her drink and glances at the door. Earlier in the day she’d been so relieved about this meeting, but now that it was about to happen, she felt both nervous and slightly embarrassed. Had she really just asked someone she hardly knew to drive two hours to hear a wild theory?

She finished her beer and asked for a water. It was close to four and a few single drinkers had come into the restaurant, plus one group of college boys, two of whom wore Holy Cross sweatshirts. Her phone vibrated; it was Alan, calling again from North Carolina. She rejected the call and sent a Can I call you later? message. He responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

She turned to look at the entrance again and found herself looking at Lily, standing two feet away. Martha had wondered if she’d changed, but she hadn’t. Long red hair, pale skin, those intense green eyes. They hugged, and for a moment Martha thought she might cry again, but she controlled herself.

“Let’s grab a table, or a booth,” Martha said.

“Okay,” Lily said, and they signaled a passing waitress to indicate they were moving to a booth in one of the alcoves. They sat across from each other.

“You look the same,” Martha said.

“Do I? I don’t feel the same. You look different.”

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