Page 19 of The Husband Hour
Lauren looked out the window. The back deck was packed with people.
“I feel bad keeping you from the party. Go on—I’m fine.”
“The party is fine. You still upset about that guy at the restaurant? I’ll make sure he doesn’t get a table ever again, I’ll tell you that.”
“No. I mean, yeah, I’m freaked out about that.” It unnerved Lauren that he had tracked her down at Nora’s. She felt her privacy had been invaded, the security of her protected island breached. As for the film itself, well, what could the guy possibly have except what the world already knew? She wouldn’t speak to him. Rory’s mother was gone. Who was the guy talking to? Former teammates? Someone from his battalion? She’d been going over and over it in her mind. Would probably still have been obsessing about it if it weren’t for the bombshell her mom had dropped. “But that’s not it. My mother’s selling the house.”
“The Green Gable?”
Lauren nodded, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe it. I never thought this day would come. Never. My grandparents bought that house in 1965. It’s like, the one thing I have, the one thing I can count on.”
“Hon, you’ve got your parents here. Your sister. You’re surrounded by people who love you. You can count on that.”
It was such a simple sentiment. And she wanted so much to believe it.
Matt told himself he hadn’t lied to Craig when he’d implied that Lauren Kincaid had agreed to be interviewed. In just a day or two, Matt was sure he would be able to turn that into reality.
The important thing was that Craig was excited about the project.
When he returned Matt’s call, he’d said he had just been thinking about him.
“The story stayed with me since we last spoke. I think you’re onto something, but like I said, without talking to the widow, you’re missing a major piece of the puzzle.”
“Yes. But I found her.”
“And she’s willing to talk to you.”
Matt, reaching for the project’s lifeline, said yes. Craig asked if his budget was still the same, and again Matt said yes, this time truthfully.
“All right, I’m in,” Craig said.
Now all Matt had to do was actually get Lauren to talk. For years, Matt had accepted the fact that the Adelmans had closed ranks around Lauren. But last night, in her drunken rambling, Stephanie had revealed that there was a crack in the wall of silence. Lauren was the direct route to finishing this film, and although it had been blocked, there was now a detour that just might work.
Matt grabbed his wallet and rushed out of the house, checking his phone for the time. Wondering how crowded it would be at Robert’s Place on Memorial Day evening.
And then he realized he’d done exactly what Ms. Boutine had warned him not to do: he’d left his keys inside. He turned back and tried the door, though he already knew it would be locked.
“Damn it!” He paced impotently for a few minutes before calling Ms. Boutine. “Sorry to bother you,” he said. It was so loud wherever she was, he could barely hear her response. “I seem to have locked myself out.”
Chapter Eleven
Nora’s party grew rowdier as the sun set; there was less grilling and more cocktail-shaking. That’s when April, decked out in a floor-length spaghetti-strap sundress in pastel pink, tapped Lauren on the shoulder.
“Lauren, I wanted to introduce you to my stepson Connor. He’s in town for a few days looking to buy a beachfront house.”
April had more stepchildren than she had fingers. According to Nora, she apparently kept in touch with almost all of them.
Connor was tall and blond and could have been April’s own son. He was handsome in a 1950s-movie-star kind of way. He was also at least ten years older than Lauren, and she’d gotten April’s not-so-subtle hint that he wasn’t exactly hurting for money.
“Nice to meet you,” Lauren said, trying to find the balance between polite and discouraging. God, she hated attempted setups. Hated the fake casualness of the introduction, the way the introducer would drift away (as April did immediately) and the way the guy would look at her intently, ask a barrage of superficial questions, and then, when Lauren made her getaway excuse, say something about getting together sometime.
Connor didn’t even have time to ask a question before Lauren excused herself with a quick “Just going to get some air.”
Outside, seagulls squawked. A stray cat dashed across Nora’s small front lawn, rustling a bush as it made its hasty retreat. The bay-side houses in Ventnor, two towns over but just ten minutes from Longport, felt secluded because of the narrow side streets buffering them from the busier throughway avenues.
Lauren settled onto Nora’s front-porch rollback bench swing. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the solitude.
Headlights caught her eye as a car rounded the corner onto Nora’s street. It moved slowly, clearly steered by a driver who was searching for an address. Then the car turned into Nora’s short driveway. A door opened and slammed shut; she heard footsteps on gravel.
