Page 79 of The Husband Hour
“Yes. I mean, I didn’t tell her why I was saying not to trust him—I couldn’t.”
“Let me interview you on camera one more time,” he said.
“No fucking way.”
Lauren spotted Stephanie and Matt in heated conversation. What on earth was that all about?
“Let’s go find Gran,” she said to Ethan. She led him to the picnic table on the front lawn where her mother and Nora were busy laying out a buffet spread of dessert, and then she quickly headed back alone to the perplexing tête-à-tête by the water.
Matt and Stephanie didn’t notice her walking over, not even when she was close enough to touch Stephanie’s shoulder.
“Am I interrupting something?” Lauren said, and from the look on Stephanie’s face, she saw that she was. But what? There had been a time, not so long ago, when she would have freaked out. But she felt in a better place with her sister. She trusted her.
“No,” Stephanie said. “I’m just getting ready to leave.”
“Why? Everyone’s going to head over to the fireworks soon.”
“Where’s Ethan?”
“Out front with Mom.”
Stephanie brushed past her without another word.
Lauren looked at Matt. “What was that all about?”
“I’m busy enough trying to figure out your late husband. I can’t begin to decode your sister,” he said.
Lauren didn’t know how to respond except to say, “Yeah. That makes two of us.” And then, “So how’s the film going?”
“It’s going.” He held up his empty mason jar. “I need a refill. Care to join me?”
As they weaved their way through the crowd to the kitchen, Lauren had a faint, shimmering memory of a house party years ago. She was following Rory, feeling like she would lose him, but then he had reached a hand behind his back and found hers without even looking.
A few people recognized her from the restaurant and greeted her with intoxicated smiles. She felt a sudden urge to be very drunk, an impulse she rarely gave in to. The temporary high was not worth the crash that always followed. But it was a holiday, and she felt an unusually strong desire to share in the feelings of revelry around her. She wanted, just for an hour, to be like everyone else.
In the kitchen, five-gallon glass dispensers were filled with red or white sangria.
“Restaurateurs really know how to throw parties,” Matt said. “Pick your poison.” She pointed to the red, and he filled two large plastic cups.
Someone behind her touched her arm.
“Hey there, stranger.”
Neil Hanes smiled, standing a little too close to her for comfort. He looked at her with an intimacy that suggested much more than their innocent evening of dinner with her parents and conversation justified.
“Oh, hi. What are you doing here?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound ungracious, but she really couldn’t imagine how he ended up at Nora’s house.
“Your mother invited me,” he said.
Matt moved closer, passing her a cup. “Hey,” Matt said, holding out a hand to Neil. “Matt Brio.”
“Neil Hanes,” he said with a flicker of recognition. “Have we met?”
“I saw you at Robert’s.”
“Right!” Neil said. Lauren looked between them, confused. “You a summer guy, Matt? Or year-round?”
“Neither,” Matt said. “I’m just passing through.”
