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“It’s deceiving, huh?” Lane buttons his coat and looks me straight in the eyes as if he knows something.
“What’s deceiving?” I look at him in confusion as my heart beats heavily in my throat. How long has he been looking my way? Did he see my text?
Lane points toward the blue sky. “The temperature. From the inside looking out, it legit seemed much warmer than this.”
I sigh in relief; he doesn’t have a clue about what I just read, and I’m being paranoid. “A hundred percent. It’s so sunny and bright, right? I thought I might be able to get away with a lighter coat today, but nope.”
“Yeah, we’re basically into strict winter weather now. Won’t be seeing any light coats for a while. If you’d rather move our meeting inside, that’s perfectly fine.”
I look around at the surrounding bare trees and inhale the crisp air, which temporarily soothes my worries. “No way. This fresh air is just what I had in mind today. I can take it if you can.”
“I’m perfectly fine. I love the cold weather, actually. Or I don’t mind it. ‘Love’ may be an overstatement.” He snickers. “I’m sorry I had to move the time on you today. I have to go out of town tonight, unfortunately. So we’ll have to raincheck the dinner we discussed.”
“No problem,” I say, although I hope I won’t need to see him again after today. This time, I’m not going to let him leave without getting answers about the school incident and without addressing the fact that others paint him a stalker. I don’t want to get stuck at dinner with someone who might become obsessed with me.
“So, I’m going to jump right in. Hopefully, we can get through all my questions today. Can you talk to me about your relationship with Allegra after your breakup?”
Lane takes a deep breath and laughs as he exhales. “Oh, okay. We’ll get straight to the tough part, then, won’t we?” He fidgets in his seat, seeming uneasy. “Um, Allegra claimed Mason ‘tricked’ her into having dinner with Connor one evening, and that’s how things got started with them. She said Mason really took to Connor when they met at her mom’s house, and the whole explanation really irked me for a couple of reasons.”
I cringe with secondhand embarrassment, mortified for Lane as he names the reasons one by one, holding fingers up for each item on the list. “One, she never let me meet Mason, which was a huge point of contention for me. Yet she allowed Connor to play with him several times over at her mom’s house while he was working. I didn’t get that. I was her exclusive boyfriend, and he was just some contractor. I mean, I know she couldn’t control that he was there, but in my mind, it was a big slap in the face. Two, she wouldn’t have appreciated it if I hadn’t been exclusive with her, so why should she have a different set of rules for herself? And three, Connor knew we were together, yet he went along with it. Not only that, he really went for it! Apparently, he went for it so hard, Allegra dumped me the very next day. She said she wanted to pursue things with Connor and didn’t think it was fair to date me any longer. After just one date!”
Lane’s eyes roll so far back in his head that all I see is white, and he has a point. If I omit his alleged compulsive tendencies from the equation, it sounds like he was pushed aside because of Connor. Like he might have had a shot at a relationship with Allegra, otherwise.
I purse my lips, contemplating the possibility of his skewed perception as I take it all in. “So you’d rather she go out with him and feel something but not let you know?”
He grimaces. “Obviously not. I was glad she was honest. I was just surprised and hurt she’d throw our whole relationship away after one measly date and that she felt compelled to go on the date at all. She could’ve at least tested the waters a bit. I would rather she’d dated us both for a while, to compare, to give me a fair chance.”
I nod. “I get why you’d feel that way. I do. Did you and Allegra communicate after she broke up with you?” But what I really want to ask is: Did you or didn’t you stalk her around town like a total creep after she severed ties?
Lane scratches the back of his head as if he’s trying to recall something I suspect he knows. “No, not really. She pretty much cut me off cold turkey. I needed closure, though. I wanted to make sure she was happy and that Connor wasn’t just keeping her from talking to me, which I suspected at the time and still do. I tried my best to contact her, but she always refused my calls. I ran into her several times on purpose, just to check on her, but she always brushed me off. It was pretty awkward. I finally gave up, and we lost touch completely.”
Lane takes in a breath of cold air as tears form behind his eyes. “When I found out she’d passed, after all these years, I was torn up about it, as if we’d remained friends all this time. I truly loved and cared for Allegra. She was such a great woman. I wish things had gone differently for us.”
The corners of my mouth turn down, and I can almost feel his pain. Whether it’s the truth or not, I sense he believes what he says. He truly thinks he had Allegra’s best interests at heart when he was trying to run into her. He thinks he had a reason to check on her.
“Listen, Lane, I can tell you truly cherished her and the time you two had together.”
He sniffs and wipes his eyes. “I did. I really did.”
I lean in and whisper softly while he’s in a state of mind to open up. “Was there ever a time, when you were close with Allegra, that she told you she was afraid of anyone? Or was there anyone that you can think of who wouldn’t wish her well?”
Lane leans in farther, as if he’s going to divulge something important. “The only person around Allegra who gave me a weird vibe was Connor. I don’t think he’s all he’s cracked up to be.”
I narrow my eyes, suspecting that all Lane has to base that on is his general dislike for Connor. “And why is that?”
Lane sits upright and crosses his arms. “Just a vibe, a gut feeling. She seemed jumpy around me after we broke up, like he made her scared of me or something. Maybe she felt like she’d get in trouble with him if she talked to me or any other man. I don’t know.”
“So you’re saying Connor was the jealous type?” I wonder if Lane is simply still miffed or if any shred of this could possibly be true. I certainly didn’t get a jealous vibe when I spoke with Connor. He could’ve easily pointed me toward Lane as a suspect if he’d been bitter, but he said he didn’t think Lane was a threat.
Lane shrugs. “I’m saying it’s definitely possible he was jealous and controlling. Maybe he had some woman on the side, even. I wouldn’t put anything past him. When the school placed their youngest son, Garrett, in my classroom last year, they went berserk and had him removed immediately, like I was carrying the bubonic plague or something. That really humiliated me, and I have no doubt it was all Connor’s doing.”
The school incident clearly struck a nerve with Lane, but was it enough for him to do something drastic? I scribble down my notes as I ask one final, important question. “So was the incident with Garrett last year the last encounter you had with Allegra?”
Lane shifts in his seat, looks down, and answers softly, “Unfortunately, yes, it was.”
He’s hiding something. I’m sure of it. His demeanor completely changes when he answers that question versus the others. He might not have killed Allegra, but they definitely had another run-in before she died.
***
“YOU WANT TO DO WHAT?” I ask Violet the next day as I slam down my cup of hot green tea. Liquid splashes on her white coffee table, but I don’t care.
Vi waves her arms up and down to caution me. “Shh, you’ll wake Brighton up.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.” I roll my eyes at her over-the-top idea.
“Listen, you said he’s cute and you don’t know whether to believe him or Lane’s wild accusations. So let’s put him to the test. Then you’ll know who’s trustworthy.” Violet sips her tea as if trying to prove that flirting with a man whose wife has just died is a perfectly ordinary thing to do.
“That won’t prove anything, Vi. His wife’s dead.” I gulp my tea, wishing it were something stronger.
Violet leans in close to me on the couch. “Yes, but she hasn’t been dead for long, so it’ll still feel wrong to him on some level—or it should. And as far as he knows, I have no idea who he is or that his famous wife just died. I’m just some lonely, horny housewife.” She winks. “If he was ever a wanderer before, he’ll take the bait. Guys like that don’t change overnight, babe.”
My eyes widen at the balls this woman has. “Aren’t you forgetting two things?”
“What?” Violet asks before she sips her tea.
“Um, remember Nick, your husband? And your child, Brighton? What would they say?”
A coy grin grows on Violet’s face as she pushes her boobs up in the mirror. If anyone can get a man going, it’s Violet. Back in the day, she was one of the best—a legend—when it came to flirting. She even managed to charm Bryce Miller, the hunky quarterback at the University of Tennessee, with the classic line “I seem to have lost my number. Can I have yours?” Plus, she’s still as gorgeous as ever, even when she’s wearing sweats and a messy mom bun. “Nick won’t ever have to know. It’s only investigative flirting, and Brighton will be at preschool.”
I rub my forehead to press away the tension as I imagine this insane scenario playing out. So many things could go wrong. “And what if he wants to get down and dirty with you?”
She whips her head around. “Then I’ll go all mental and scare him away at the last minute. I’ve been watching a lot of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills on Hulu. I think I can go from sexy to crazy on a dime.”
“Ugh, let’s just get it over with, then.” I slump into the couch and cover my face with one of her throw pillows.
“For your sake, I hope he passes.” Violet grins as she grabs my phone then copies and stores his number.
“What do you mean, for my sake?” I peek out from the side of the pillow.
“You’re crushing on him, hard. Hey, maybe something could happen for you guys, eventually. I mean, way down the road, of course, assuming he’s not a complete skeeze or a wife murderer.”
“Gee, thanks, Vi. I’m so glad to have your sweet, demented blessing.” I bury my embarrassed face under the pillow again and groan. It must be obvious that I have a crush on Connor, and that’s causing me to have a biased opinion of him. “A source” did ask me who I was going to believe, so I guess I need to decide. This wild scheme of Vi’s seems to be the only way to get a clear answer about Connor’s loyalty to Allegra. But if I’m being honest, I’m going to be disappointed if Connor fails the test.
“I can’t be here for this. I have to go home and see my son. Text me later when he gives you an appointment date, okay?”
“Okay, babe. I’ll text you.” Vi gives me a friendly wave. She’s enjoying this project a tad too much.
***
MOM, GRAHAM, AND I have plans for dinner at her house, and I’m hoping a home-cooked meal in my childhood home will distract me from the Connor-and-Violet thing. I pull up to Mom’s all-brick basement rancher, built in the seventies. She’s been saving for years and can almost afford to give it the makeover she’s always wanted: a new sunroom in the back, new tile and hardwood floors, and several coats of paint inside and out.
I rap on the pineapple door knocker that’s been there since I was born. Since the doorbell is out of order and no one comes to the door, I reach under the third landscaping rock to the left of the small front porch and grab the hideaway key. I unlock the door, return the key to its place, and walk into Mom’s foyer.
They’ve got the radio blaring in the back toward the kitchen, and the smell of marinara sauce fills my nostrils, making me feel at home and more relaxed. “Mommy, Mommy, I made the skeetos, and Meems helped a little!” Graham yells when he sees me.
At first puzzled, I realize Graham associates Mom’s spaghetti with my own specialty from a can, SpaghettiOs, which he calls skeetos.
“Great job, bub!” I exclaim as he leaps into my arms for a monster hug and fifteen kisses. “I missed you, baby. Did you miss me too?”
“I did, Mommy. I really missed our hugs the most.” He smiles and tilts his head with apparent adoration. It’s as if he’s tugging my heart out from my chest by a tiny rope. The happiness I feel with him, especially when he’s this sweet, is almost too much to handle. Many times, I can’t help but think it’s unfair. His dad never knew him, and he never knew his dad. Why am I the one who gets to raise him and love him? How did I end up being the one who receives his special hugs and kisses? Will I always be enough for him, and will I always fear I’m going to lose him too?
“Our hugs are the best, aren’t they, baby?” I beam with love and kiss his head, knowing how important it is to cherish moments like this because nothing lasts forever. Sometimes, I can’t help picturing what life might look like if Clayton were still here. I imagine an alternate world in which my dad never left and my parents are still in love all these years later, stealing knowing glances at each other from across the dinner table. Clayton’s cutting up Graham’s spaghetti for him and promising to play catch in the yard later if he cleans his plate. The truth is that while there are gaps in our family, Mom and I have managed to fill them with extra love of our own.
***
LATER THAT EVENING, after I tuck Graham into bed and we say his prayers, I hear the faint ding of my phone in the living room. When I check, I’m glad to see it’s Vi because I’ve been dying to know what happened with Connor.
Hey, babe. So, Connor answered, and he’s coming by tomorrow morning for a quote on my en suite. I’ll give you the play-by-play when he leaves. You sure you’re okay with this?
My finger hovers over the reply box. Am I okay with this?
Another text comes in and startles me as I’m deep in thought. Focus on the investigation, Mad. Not your schoolgirl crush on Connor. I don’t want to have to get ugly here—a source.
After a twinge of hesitation and fear, I type my reply to Violet before “a source” changes my mind. Yes, I have to know who to believe. This is the only way. You’re the only person I can trust to do it.
Vi replies. I mean, he’ll eventually learn we’re friends. I can’t let him think I truly hit on him. You know?
She’s right, but I seriously doubt we’d ever date in a million years. He’s way out of my league, and this is purely business. I promised to get to the bottom of this story. My life may even depend on it. We’ll cross that bridge when we don’t get there.
***
WHAT A MORNING. I GET Graham to school, grab a coffee, then do a live interview with one of my new advertisers, Taylor Bowery, owner of Taylor’d Fit, a new clothing boutique in an all-red building across town. I drive back home, and once I’m inside, Violet calls. My phone barely has time to ring once before I answer it and jump up off the couch. My pulse races. “Tell me everything.”
Violet’s giggles sound like a machine gun. “Are you ready for it, Mad? Are you really ready for it?”
“Yes, I am. So for the love of God, just spill!” I raise my voice, because I’m in no mood for games. She loves to drive me insane by holding information over my head.
“Gosh, you’re no fun at all.” Violet huffs. “Okay, so I answered the door in my robe, which had a short, sexy nightgown underneath it. And I had on full makeup, and my hair was done, of course. He acted like the perfect gentleman when I apologized for not being fully dressed yet, and he even asked if he needed to give me a minute.”
She pauses, but I stay silent.
“Can you believe that?”
I pace from the front door to the kitchen as I bite my nails to the quick. “Keep going,” I beg, feeling like I’m going to jump out of my skin. “Did Connor pass or fail?”
“All right, all right. Well, I said no, of course, and showed him around the house as I explained how I wanted to add some square footage and create a larger master bedroom suite. Which I actually wouldn’t mind doing, by the way. I let my robe fall open a few times and drape down my shoulder, especially when we were in my bedroom. I mentioned I was a single mom and asked if he was single too. And you know what he said?”
“No, what?” My stomach knots up.
“He said he was married!” Violet shouts, and I smile into the phone.
“Good. He should say that,” I say as my stomach relaxes. I’m proud Connor was the stand-up guy I believed he was and didn’t hook up with some woman he doesn’t know.
Violet sighs. “Guess Lane was wrong, then. Doesn’t seem the type to have a woman on the side or anything.”
I wipe the grin off my face. “Why do you sound so disappointed?”
“Well, for two reasons. One, I didn’t get to go all Real Housewives on the guy. And two, the quote he gave me for the addition is actually so doable that I seriously want to talk Nick into it. Only I can’t now, because I totally came on to the guy.” Violet cackles.
I snort. “You know how I always say don’t ever lie about being sick because you’ll get sick? It’s like the boy who cried wolf, only you’re ‘the vixen who cried construction.’”
Violet huffs as if irritated. “Well, you’re welcome. Now my dream en suite is gone with the wind.”
“Get over it, Scarlett. After all, tomorrow is another day.” We laugh, then I get a beep on my phone. “You’re the best. Thanks so much for what you did. You get, like, a million best friend points today.”
Another beep.
“Only for you, babe,” she says as I look at the caller’s name.
“Oh my gosh! The beep on my phone, it’s Connor! Do you think he knows about what we did or that we’re friends? Did you say anything that might’ve tipped him off?” Beads of sweat form around my armpits.
“No, you nut! He’s just calling you. You need to relax. This is why your brain is trying to explode on you, you know. Take a deep breath and answer. It’s fine!”
I take a deep breath, count to three in my head, and let it back out. “Okay, I’ll text you after.”
I answer the other line quietly, as if I could hide on the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Madeleine. It’s Connor Hudson. I just got some really bad news. Do you think we could meet?”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m free right now, actually. Where would you like to meet?” I scramble to come up with a reason he might have bad news. Maybe he’s been bumped up to suspect number one despite his solid alibi. But surely not.
“My house, if that’s okay? The boys are at school still, so we can talk there. I’m headed that way now. It’ll take about five minutes for me to get there.”
I glance at my clock then down at the outfit I changed into when I got home. Nothing too fancy. I’m casually cute in leggings and a cozy peach sweater. “Yeah, okay. It’ll take me about fifteen. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Sounds good, thanks.” He hangs up.
I don’t get the impression he’s upset with me, but he’s definitely upset about something. Maybe he has cold feet about sharing information with me, or maybe he wants to quit the story entirely and let the police do their thing. He did tell Violet he was still married, so maybe he wants to let Allegra rest in peace and not do this anymore—for the boys’ sake. There’s only one way to find out, and it’s not by sitting on my butt.