Chapter 25

PENNY

The evening’s festivities are the final hurdle to our plans. We’ll go, we’ll smile, all the while secretly planning to sail off together when the residents of Boat Street are fast asleep or simply sedated by one too many martinis.

I haven’t been able to find Collin all afternoon. The sailboat is still out, but I don’t fret. He won’t let Dex’s return disrupt our plans.

I put on a yellow gingham dress, and when I cinch the belt around my waist, I think about the new life inside. I’ll wait till we’re safe in each other’s arms, gazing out at turquoise water, before I’ll tell Collin. It will be better then, I tell myself.

I glance at my reflection in the dressing table mirror, and as I’m powdering my nose, I hear Dex on the stairs. A moment later he stands behind me and leans in to plant a kiss on the back of my neck. At first, I bristle at his touch. But I must play along so as not to arouse any suspicion. I don’t want a fight. And most of all, I don’t want a scene. Not on Boat Street. Not in front of the neighbors. I couldn’t bear the shame of it.

“How could I stay away so long?” Dex asks, turning my chin to him. “How could I leave such beauty behind?”

I smile briefly, then turn back to the mirror, busying myself with my mascara, but Dex doesn’t relent. He unzips his trousers and I watch in the mirror as they fall to the floor, revealing his strong tanned legs. He presses himself against my back, and I feel the pressure against me as he reaches his hand into the bodice of my dress. I close my eyes, reveling in the feeling of his touch, as it might be the last time his strong hands caress my skin. Like a skilled violinist plays and plucks his instrument, Dex has always been able to manipulate my body with symphonic skill. I hesitate as he turns me toward him, but I am putty in his arms. I think of all the times I craved this attention from him, the times I longed for him to come home from his studio and pull me toward him exactly like this. But now? I peel his hands off my chest, and shake my head. “I have a lasagna in the oven.”

“Let it burn,” Dex replies, pulling me toward the bed. I want to give myself to him. After all, I am still his wife, and yes, part of me still loves him, and may always love him. But I climb down the ladder to the kitchen. I belong to Collin now, every inch of me.

Dex and I walk out to the dock at five. Collin’s sailboat is docked in its place now, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe he saw that Dex was home and didn’t want to come over? I hoped to talk to him before Bach on the Dock, to solidify our plans, and mostly to promise him I’d be there this evening, like we planned. I’ll find him at the party. I’ll reassure him.

I place the lasagna on a card table set against Naomi and Gene’s deck. She flashes us a plastic smile. “Oh, Dexter,” she says, ignoring me. “You’re home from California!”

He gives her an air-kiss. “Yes, flew home this morning.”

Gene walks over to shake Dex’s hand. “Nice night for a party,” Dex says. But Gene doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns to me. “How are you, Penny?” He’s smiling, but I can tell something’s bothering him. His left eye twitches a little.

“Oh, fine, thanks,” I lie. I watch Dex weave from one person to the next, ever the social butterfly. Naomi disappears into the house and returns holding a plate of pastries. She looks at me, then sets them on the table. “Dex,” she calls. “Your favorite.”

Naomi hands him a chocolate éclair, and he takes a bite. “Did you make these? They’re out of this world.”

She nods self-consciously. “They’re nothing special, just a recipe I picked up a from a French friend.”

I look around for Collin but don’t see him anywhere. Lenora and Tom and the others filter in. They ask how I am. But they mostly channel their attention toward Dex, who recounts his time in California, segueing into a story about a pool party at Lana’s where Cary Grant and Lauren Bacall were in attendance.

I can’t listen. It’s as if I’ve become immune to his bravado. I look away and catch a glimpse of Jimmy. He peers around the corner in jeans and a pair of tennis shoes, one with the laces untied. He smiles at me before Naomi shoos him back into the house. He turns around with slumped shoulders.

I think of the child growing in my belly, and I promise never to view him as a nuisance but always as a great blessing. I place my hand on my stomach and look at Dexter. His face is animated. He speaks further about California, and the little crowd on the dock erupts in laughter. I could never be Mrs. Dexter Wentworth without losing myself in his shadow. I know that now.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Lenora asks a few minutes later. Everyone’s hovering around a makeshift bar that Naomi and Gene have set up.

“Oh,” I say, looking up quickly. “Nothing.”

“You look a little pale,” she continues.

I do my best to smile. “I suppose I’m just a bit tired.”

“Here,” she says. “Let’s get you a drink.”

She takes my arm and we walk to the bar. Naomi hands me a martini, but it tastes bitter. Later I pour it in the lake. A green olive bobs in the water until a female mallard swims over and scoops it into her beak.

I hardly notice that the music has begun when Dex finds me a little while later. “Come on,” he says, reaching for my hand. “Everyone’s dancing.” I take his hand obediently as he leads me closer to the little trio of musicians led by Gene on the violin. I don’t recognize the song. It’s stiff and classical. Dex wraps his arms around me, and I look up at the fairy lights overhead. My head is heavy, and I instinctively lean it against Dex’s chest. At first I don’t notice Collin standing a few feet ahead, but then I hear Naomi say his name. I lift my head as we make eye contact. Naomi hands him a martini, and he takes a long sip, throwing nearly the entire martini back in one fell swoop. He stares straight at me, just as Dex’s hands drop lower on my waist. Too low. I see the look in Collin’s eyes. Betrayal. My eyes plead with him to understand. Can’t he see that I must play along? Can’t he understand that Dex’s return changes nothing, nothing at all? We’ll sail away together, just like we planned. But Collin doesn’t stay to hear my explanation. Before the song ends, he’s gone.

By ten, Dex has had too much to drink. He’s more animated than ever, and Tom doesn’t even mind that he’s dancing with Lenora and clutching her waist in a way he’d never have dared before five martinis.

Disgusted, I walk to the end of the dock in front of our houseboat. Surely Dexter, in his state, wouldn’t notice if I packed my things and left early with Collin. But Collin isn’t there, or anywhere. And the sailboat is gone too. I feel a twinge of worry then. The once-waterproof plan we’d forged now had leaks in it. Did he leave without me?

I hardly notice Jimmy sitting on my deck, and I quickly dry the tears in my eyes so he won’t be frightened.

“Hi, honey,” I say, sitting beside him. “What are you doing up so late?”

“It’s too loud to sleep,” he says with shrug. When he looks up at me, I can see tears on his cheeks.

“Sweetie,” I say, “what’s the matter? You’ve been crying.”

Jimmy sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. I can tell he’s trying to be strong, trying to be a man, but the mere fact that I’ve asked him about his pain seems to have the opposite effect on him, and now tears spill freely onto his freckle-dotted cheeks. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wadded-up piece of paper, then hands it to me.

“What is this, honey?” I ask, unfolding it carefully.

“My comic strip,” he says. “I found it in the trash can.”

I think of how proud he was of his sketches. I remember the way he showed it to me so timidly and how I encouraged him to show it to Naomi and Gene. I thought they’d praise him. I only wanted Jimmy to feel some sense of happiness, some sense of worth. Here is a boy who aches for approval from his parents, especially his mother, and my meddling has only made things worse.

“Honey,” I say, searching for the right words. “It must have been a mistake. Surely your parents wouldn’t throw this away.” I smooth out the page, smiling at the way he drew the comic strip, trying so hard to keep his lines straight. “Look at how nice your printing is in the thought bubbles. And see how you drew the farm animals here? It’s magnificent.” I hand the comic back to him, but he shakes his head.

“I don’t want it,” he says.

“Well,” I say, “then I’ll keep it. I won’t let you, or anyone else, throw something so excellent away. Besides, you’ll want it back someday.”

“I will?” Jimmy asks, puzzled, but the idea intrigues him.

“Of course you will. When you’re a famous comic strip artist.”

The corners of his mouth turn up briefly, but his smile fades fast, and he folds his arms across his chest. I worry that it doesn’t matter what I say. The wound is too deep, and I fear it will scar this time.

“Want to rest on my couch?” I say. “It’s quieter down here.”

“It’s OK. I’d rather just look out at the lake.”

“Me, too,” I say, hoping that at any moment I’ll see Collin sailing up, just like we planned. I’ll run inside and get my suitcase and then jump aboard. We’ll wave to Jimmy as we cast off. I might not even leave a note. “Bon voyage,” I’ll whisper to Jimmy. He’d keep our secret.

But the sailboat isn’t anywhere in sight, and a moment later, I detect movement on the deck in front of Collin’s houseboat. It’s dark, but the porch light on his back deck illuminates two figures in the night. Two men in dark suits.