As Abby pulled into the drop-off line at Cannondale Elementary, she looked in the rearview mirror and smiled when she saw her children, third-grader Quinn and first-grader Lily, contently staring out the windows. They were absorbed in a recording of Roald Dahl’s BFG.
As they get closer to the unloading area, Lily started yelling: “Hannah! Hannah! Mom, there’s my new friend, Hannah. Roll down the window. Quick! I want to say hi! Hannah!”
“Lily, settle down,” Abby said. “You’re about to get out. You can say hello to her then. Please make sure you have everything.” Abby directed their car toward one of the nicer teachers, who helped the kids debark.
“Bye, Lily. Bye, Quinn,” Abby said as they jumped out of the car one at a time, competing to see who could land the farthest out. “Have a good day.”
“Bye, Mom,” they both said in unison. “Love you,” Lily added.
Abby’s phone rang then, and she pulled into a parking spot. It was her voice mail service forwarding a message from her office phone. As she sat and listened, Abby watched Quinn and Lily head toward the entrance door. Lily had met up with Hannah, and they were holding hands and swinging their arms as they walked. Quinn and a boy Abby didn’t recognize were throwing a tennis ball back and forth.
They adjusted so quickly, she thought. This was a good move for them. They were definitely craving more space.
Watching them enter the building smiling and laughing, one would never know that their father had killed himself under a year ago. I wish I’d considered the move earlier, Abby mused. Maybe it would have taken some of the financial pressure off Colin.
Abby was ready to pull out of the parking lot when she realized Lily had left her lunch in the car. Grabbing it, Abby walked to the school lobby. While waiting for a pass to gain access to Lily’s classroom, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Abby turned around to find Leigh Gilding standing there, smiling at her. “Leigh, what a surprise,” she said, although it really wasn’t. An image of Jack flashed in Abby’s mind as she remembered her conversation with Elizabeth in Brioche.
“Kate thinks a woman named Leigh Gilding is a client, but she isn’t positive,” Elizabeth had said. “Petite, blonde, pretty, and can be a total bitch.”
“Abby, I can’t believe it’s you,” said Leigh. “It’s been at least ten years. I didn’t know you lived here. Did you just move?”
“Yes,” responded Abby. “How about you? How long have you lived here? “
“We moved to Cannondale about a year ago—once our oldest was ready for kindergarten,” said Leigh. “We sold our apartment and got out of Manhattan just before the crash.”
“Lucky you,” Abby responded.
“I’m sorry about what you’ve been going through lately,” continued Leigh. “I saw it on the news. I meant to give you a call, but… You know how busy life can be.”
Once striking with the wholesome beauty of a J. Crew model, Leigh had gained about fifteen pounds and cut her previously long blonde hair to chin length. She was still pretty but no longer in an intimidating way. The weight gain and time had robbed her of her once-effortless good looks. She was obviously trying to compensate by being impeccably dressed and accessorized even at this early hour.
“Thanks, Leigh,” Abby said. “The kids and I are doing okay now.”
“Of all places to move, what brings you to Cannondale?” Leigh asked.
“Work,” said Abby. “I’m managing White’s Realty. And my sister, Elizabeth Kelly, lives here with her family.”
“Oh, our realtor works at White’s, and I’ve met your sister through my kids’ soccer league,” she said. “Small world.”
“Yes, it is,” responded Abby. “Feels like it gets smaller every day.”
“We love our realtor—Cecily Morgan,” Leigh said, grinning. “She’s a great agent and such a resource for local tradespeople.”
“That’s good to know,” responded Abby. “Which house did you buy through her?”
“The castle in Kings Lord Manor,” she said. “House number three.”
“Oh, one of the new homes built on the old Sterling estate?” Abby said, surprise coloring her voice.
“Yes,” Leigh responded. “Richie and I like new construction, so the development is perfect for us.”
Although Abby hadn’t seen any of the development’s homes yet, she knew of them. White’s Realty had handled the listing for the property’s original seller, Richard Sterling III, and was subsequently handling the listing for the homes that Whole Development Construction Co. built on the property. At a time when few homes worth more than $2 million were moving in Fairfield County, the homes on the Sterling estate did, which was good for the firm. But the transactions were also a bit of a black eye for White’s Realty—the town had been outraged when the original 1890s Stanford White-designed home and Fredrick Law Olmstead-designed landscaping were bulldozed to make room for the newer homes.
During a better economy, the Sterling estate would have been purchased before it even officially went on the market, but its upkeep and taxes made it a prohibitive buy. Cannondale residents tried raising money to turn it into a park but were unsuccessful. Other developers were initially interested, but despite the large lot, much of the property was wetlands and therefore unusable. In the end, the Sterling family donated twenty of the wetland acres to the town’s local nature conservancy. The remaining sixteen acres were sold to Whole Development Construction Co.
Whole Development had a reputation for buying prime lots and ripping down perfectly situated, distinguished homes so it could build as many new, humongous homes as the property’s zoning laws allowed.
Wedged together, its bulky McMansions made standard ones look quaint. The structures often had between three- and six-garage bays built at the front of the home, which awkwardly competed with the formal entrances. In Kings Lord Manor’s case, the homes were grouped together in a half circle with the remaining property in the back. Abby had heard that the homes offered no privacy, which the developer thought would create a neighborhood feeling and be attractive to buyers.
When Whole Development named their projects, they favored cutesy, small-town Americana references, or for their high-end properties, as many imperial-related terms as possible—hence Kings Lord Manor.
With the exception of one home purchased by a local couple named Edward and Brianna Worth, the majority of houses listed in Kings Lord Manor were bought by out-of-towners, which apparently included the Gildings. Abby figured they either hadn’t heard about the uproar in town or simply didn’t care.
“Where are you living now and what did you do with your fabulous Park Avenue apartment?” Leigh asked Abby.
“We’re renting a home on Millstone. I held onto the apartment and am renting it for now,” she responded.
“Renting,” said Leigh curiously. “Oh, of course. You can’t afford to buy a home—Colin jumped because you were wiped out, and it was a suicide so you didn’t receive any life insurance. He certainly left you in a bind, didn’t he? How many kids do you have? Men can be such selfish assholes.”
“Mrs. Powers,” the school secretary—who’d overheard the exchange—interrupted and shot Leigh a nasty look. “Here’s your pass. You can go in now.”
“Bye, Leigh,” said Abby as she started to walk away. My God! She is still a bitch, Abby thought. A total fucking bitch.
“Wait,” said Leigh, running up alongside her. “If I recall correctly, you grew up around here, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Abby snapped. “I grew up in Stamford, about thirty minutes from here.”
“You must know a lot of people who live here,” Leigh continued. “I’ve heard Fairfield County is a place people move back to as adults. Would you be willing to tell your friends and White’s clients about my landscaping company? I can have you over so you can see my work.”
“Okay… How is your landscaping business?” Abby asked, trying to figure out how serious Leigh was about working.
“I’ve been consistently busy,” said Leigh. “And I need to be. I still have home and landscaping improvements planned, and Richie just told me I have to start paying for them. He said I’ve been spending too much money since we moved here, and aside from the basics and stuff for our kids, he basically cut me off.”
As they parted, Leigh handed Abby a tall stack of thick, attractive—and ridiculous—cardstock business cards. “Would you place them in the lobby of White’s?” she asked.
As Abby walked toward Lily’s classroom, looking for the nearest trashcan to dump the cards into, she thought, Leigh is a quick study. People in this town are easily impressed by anything expensive that conveys good taste.