The House Next Door Read online

  Chapter 24

  Why on earth did I agree to this?

  I know why. I thought it might clear my head to get away for a day.

  Besides, it sounded lovely on paper. A bus ride into the city. An afternoon on the water. A picnic lunch at the Statue of Liberty.

  Of course, I forgot about the downside: I would be chaperoning ten noisy, rambunctious second-graders on a class trip, a group that doesn’t even include my own kids. A bunch of kids who delight in being annoying and obnoxious, from the time we board the bus at school all the way down to Battery Park.

  I brought a Vogue and a Vanity Fair to read on the bus. That’s a laugh. I spend the entire ride breaking up fights. Making sure Dylan doesn’t pick his nose—or, if he does, not to wipe it on Sophie. Getting vomit bags ready for Lacey, who gets carsick.

  If I think a ride on the ferry will quiet them down, I am wrong. The water is rough. On the ride over, both Lacey and Tyler need vomit bags. Like an overtaxed mother hen, I get dizzy trying to keep an eye on my ten charges. They scatter between the benches and the rails. It’s my job to make sure no one falls overboard.

  And then I see the guy in the black suit.

  He is sitting a few rows in front of me. A young man, mid-thirties, dressed like an undertaker. Black shoes, white shirt, black tie. He is wearing dark sunglasses and reading a newspaper.

  The only person on the entire ferry who’s completely alone.

  Every so often, out of the corner of my eye, I see him move the paper to the side and look at me. The one time our eyes meet, he quickly turns away.

  Call me crazy, but I could swear the guy is watching us. Watching me.

  An admirer? A stalker? A pervert? This is New York. He could be all three. He is good-looking, if a bit bland. Certainly ten years younger than I am. So it’s flattering. But odd.

  Once the ferry docks at Liberty Island, he disappears in the crowd.

  I help my group of kids off the boat and stand guard as they make bathroom visits. Mrs. Bolton, the teacher, announces that tickets to the top of the torch have been sold out for months. So we’re only climbing as high as the pedestal.

  This meets with a lot of groans, but I’m delighted. I’m carrying all their lunches. Two shopping bags filled with sandwiches, juice boxes, chips, and fruit, to lug up all the stairs.

  When the photo taking is finished—a few New York harbor shots, and several hundred selfies—we head back down for lunch. Mrs. Bolton and I sit at a picnic table to eat. The kids prefer eating on the grass.

  Then they line up for the final leg of our historical journey: a visit to the gift shop.

  But as the kids make a beeline to all the Statue of Liberty green foam crowns, the rubber souvenir bracelets, and the I ♥ Lady Liberty T-shirts, I see him again: my Man in Black. Just standing there.

  It’s as if he’s been waiting for me to show up.

  Who is he? What does he want? Nothing to be afraid of, I tell myself. There are hundreds of people milling around. This is a public place.

  Unless he’s a sniper. Or a hit man. Or a terrorist.

  Come on, Laura. Get a grip.

  We board the ferry back. I look around and breathe a sigh of relief. My stalker is nowhere in sight. It’s rush hour, so the bus ride back takes forever. Some of the kids start to doze off. The rest are tired, hot, and cranky. By the time we pull into the school parking lot, I’m feeling that way, too.

  And then I see him again. In the school parking lot.

  Same man. Same suit. Same sunglasses. Only this time, he’s sitting in a parked Subaru in front of the school.

  Okay. Now I’m really scared. Who is he? What’s he doing in front of an elementary school at 6:00 p.m.?

  And what do I do if he follows me home?

  I don’t give him a chance. Once the last kid is off the bus, I run into the school. I’m looking for someone who’ll come with me, so I don’t have to walk out alone.

  I’m in luck. Mr. O’Brien, the gym teacher, is still there. He’s over six feet tall, and a weight lifter. If anyone can protect me, he’s the one.

  But when we get outside, the man is gone.

  Mr. O’Brien smiles and walks back inside. I jump in my car and lock the doors. Have I ever made it home in less time? I don’t think so. Just to be sure I haven’t been followed, I drive around the block a few times before pulling into my garage.

  Who was he? I have no idea.

  But something tells me he knows who I am.

  Chapter 25

  Safety valve. Safety net. Safety first.

  Every time Archie Monahan hears the word safety, he has to smile. A “safety” was what they called a condom back in the 1940s, when his father first opened Monahan Drugs.

  Archie remembers all the young men who came in, asking to speak to his father. How they looked around nervously as his dad opened a drawer in the back. Then paid and left quickly, hoping they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew. How shocked his dad would be, Archie thinks, if he could see how things have changed. An entire shelf of condoms with names like Skyn, Rough Rider, and Pleasure Plus. Textured, ribbed, and studded. Some even glow in the dark.

  And right next to them: Lubricants. Ovulation kits. Home sperm tests. Contraceptives. Vibrators.

  Archie hears the front bell ring. That means a customer. He’s prepared to give his usual welcome…when he sees who it is. He frowns.

  “Hello again, Archie,” says the man.

  “Hello, Vince,” Archie says.

  The man extends his hand to shake. Archie ignores it.

  “I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to think about the offer I made the last time we talked,” Vince says. Archie makes a face.

  “I thought about it. The answer is still no.”

  “Hmmm. Perhaps I didn’t explain it well,” says Vince. “What I’m promising is…”

  “I know what you’re promising,” Archie says. “And I don’t want any part of it.”

  Vince shrugs and wanders around the store. Archie stands and watches him. Vince picks up a tube of toothpaste and a bottle of avocado-scented shampoo. Then he circles back to the pharmacy counter to pay.

  “You see, the thing is…I would understand your reluctance, under ordinary circumstances,” Vince says to him. “Except, as of last month, your circumstances are anything but ordinary. Am I right?”

  Stunned, Archie looks at him for a moment. Then he turns away.

  “Sorry to hear about your boy,” Vince says solemnly. “Damn shame, after all those commendation medals. A real hero he was, too. Where’d it happen? Afghanistan?”

  “Iraq,” Archie says. He practically spits out the word.

  “Your son, God rest his soul, isn’t around anymore to take over the store. And those two lovely grandchildren of yours—Luke and Justy? They’re gonna need you, Archie. Now more than ever.”

  Archie says nothing. He just stands and stares. His eyes and his mind are somewhere far away.

  “Stella can’t handle them alone. Certainly not financially. And let’s face it—business isn’t what it used to be. Those big chain stores are killin’ guys like you.”

  Archie has heard all this before. Slowly, he walks over to the phone.

  “Forgive me, but you’re not a young man anymore, Archie,” Vince adds. “What’s going to happen to all of them when you’re gone?”

  “I want you out of here,” Archie says quietly. “I’m gonna count to three. If you’re not out, I’m calling the police.”

  “And tell them what?” Vince laughs. “That a man came in and offered you a deal that’ll put you on Easy Street? So you and Millie can travel, buy things for the grandkids, save for their college? Go ahead, Archie. Call them. And put the phone on speaker, so I can hear them laugh!”

  Vince takes a step toward him. Is he going to hit me? Archie wonders. No, he thinks. People like Vince don’t do that. They kill you with words, not fists.

  Vince leans in closer, so they’re almost eye to eye. “Let me ask
you something,” Vince says. “What would your dad have done, with an offer like this?”

  “Don’t you dare bring my father into this!” Archie is yelling now. “I’ll have you know, my father was the most decent…honorable…”

  “Easy, old man.” Vince backs off a little. “All I meant was: Did he ever take a vacation? Buy a car that wasn’t second-hand?”

  “You know what my dad would do? He would toss you out on your ass!”

  Vince shakes his head in disbelief.

  “You’re throwing away a golden opportunity,” he says. He takes a few dollars out of his wallet and pays for the toothpaste and the shampoo. “Nobody has to know about it. It’ll be our little secret. You’d be the silent partner here. I’m the one taking all the risks.”

  “Get out!” Archie says. He points to the door. His voice cracks.

  Vince shakes his head in disbelief. He shrugs.

  “I thought we could do this the easy way,” Vince says. He heads to the door. “But if you’re determined to make it hard for me…”

  He leaves before he finishes the sentence.

  Chapter 26

  By Tuesday night, we’re already arguing about it.

  “Nobody your age needs his own car,” I say. “They won’t even let you have one at school till you’re a senior. So what’s the big rush?”

  “What will I drive when I go out with my friends?” he asks. “Not your crappy Volvo.”

  I resist the urge to tell him that he and his siblings are the ones who made it crappy. Sticky car seats. Potato chip crumbs. Muddy shoes.

  “And Dad won’t let me drive his new BMW,” he says.

  I am in the middle of sweeping. I stop. I put the broom down. I lean against a wall.

  His new what?

  “Uh, what makes you think Dad is getting a new BMW?” I ask.

  “He told me,” Joey says. “I asked if I could drive his car, and he said no, he’s trading it in.”

  This can’t be right. Ned is getting a new car? We just paid for an emissions checkup on the old one.

  “So if I can’t drive your cars,” Joey says, smearing peanut butter on three slices of bread for his pre-dinner snack, “I guess I’ll just have to use Vince’s.”

  He sees the shock on my face. He misreads it as confusion.

  “You know. Vince. The guy next door? He said when I got a license, I could use his car anytime I want.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. He stares at me, waiting for a reason. I say the first thing that comes into my mind. “I doubt his insurance would cover a second driver.”

  But Joey is already shaking his head.

  “Chill, Mom. It does. I’ve been driving his car for a couple of weeks now,” he says. “Helping him make deliveries.”

  (Note to self: that fluttering sound you hear is your whole life, spinning out of control…)

  “I thought…you were helping him…with his computer,” I say. It’s getting hard to put together a cohesive sentence.

  “Yeah. That took, like, an hour. But then he hired me to help with his business.”

  I’m still leaning against the kitchen wall, trying to process all this. Ned told me nothing about his new car. Vince told me nothing about Joey. And Joey—who usually tells me nothing, ever—spilled the beans about both of them.

  I look at the clock. It’s almost seven. Where the hell is Ned, when I desperately need to talk to him? How many asshole client meetings can one mid-level executive have?

  When he walks in, he’s in an unusually chipper mood.

  “Hi,” he says, all smiles. “Smells good. How was your day?”

  I know I should wait. I know he likes to check the mail and pour himself a drink before he listens to my daily Family News Wrap-Up. But the anger is bubbling up inside me. I can’t control myself. If I don’t say something now, I’m going to explode.

  “When do you get to pick up your new car?”

  He freezes mid-pour. “How do you know about that?”

  “Joey told me.”

  “I was going to surprise you,” he says. He takes a sip of the bourbon. Then another.

  “You were going to surprise me…with a new car for you?”

  The irony of this seems to escape him.

  “Wait’ll you see it!” he says. He’s like a kid in a candy store. “It’s the five-twenty-eight-i sedan. Black sapphire. Mocha leather seats…”

  I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time. He goes on and on about enhanced Bluetooth, key memory, even a moon roof. And all I can think of is the years I’ve wasted clipping coupons.

  “It’s a beauty,” he says. He is all smiles.

  “And what does this little beauty cost?” I ask.

  “Zero percent down,” he says. Even he knows that this is not an answer.

  “Ned—is this something we can afford?”

  “I told you—I’ve got a new client. His portfolio is huge.”

  “Are you talking about…Vince?”

  That’s when it turns ugly.

  “What do you care where the money comes from?” he yells. “Goddamnit, Laura. I make it all! I should be allowed to spend it the way I want!”

  Bourbon in hand, he goes upstairs and slams the bedroom door.

  Years ago, as a joke (sort of), I started making a list of all the things we fight about. Careless things (being out of stamps). Annoying things (his habit of leaving used dental floss on the bathroom sink). His mother. My brother. His drinking. My eating. On and on and on.

  I thought we’d pretty much covered the gamut of things to argue about. But tonight, eighteen years into our marriage, there’s a new one: a fifty-thousand-dollar car that I knew nothing about.

  I am trying to sort this all out when the phone rings. It’s Darcy. “Boy, I’m glad you called,” I say. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Me first,” she says. And then she shares a startling piece of news.

  Coach Mike, our friend, our mainstay, our hero…has just been arrested for dealing drugs.

  Chapter 27

  The next morning, I text Vince.

  Very upset. Must talk. Call when you can.

  Seven minutes later, he rings my bell. He’s holding flowers.

  “You haven’t been answering my texts again,” he says. There is the beginning of a frown. “But see how quickly I answered yours?” Back to a smile. “May I come in?”

  I take a quick look up and down the street to see if any of my neighbors are watching. There’s no one around. Just me and the man I’m crazy about, standing on my doorstep.

  And I’m crazy enough to let him in.

  He hands me the bouquet. “Where did you get these?” I ask.

  “Darcy’s garden. I didn’t think she’d mind.”

  He sits down on the couch. Do I sit there, too? He sees me hesitate. He pats the spot next to him and smiles.

  I decide to sit on a chair. He shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “What’s going on?”

  I cut to the chase. “Exactly when did you go to see Ned?”

  This startles him. “Why do you ask?”

  “Was it this past Wednesday?”

  He looks confused.

  “Wednesday I was with you.” He gives me his sweetest heart-melting smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already…”

  But I’m in no mood for charm.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to see him? And what’s with you and Joey? Why are you driving my kid around, sneaking behind my back?”

  “Whoa,” he says, holding his hands up in front of him. “One thing at a time. About Joey: he wants to buy his own car. And I know you’re not crazy about that idea. So yeah, he’s working for me. But we decided not to mention anything about it for a while.”

  That makes sense. But I still don’t like it.

  “The Ned thing? Look: I know it hasn’t been great between you two lately.”

  “You heard us arguing last night?”

  “Honey—
the truth? I hear you arguing a lot,” he says. “I thought I could maybe do something to help. And I didn’t tell you because…I wanted to surprise you.”

  Why the hell does everyone want to surprise me?

  “Besides,” he says, “I thought it was Ned’s place to say something, not mine.”

  Good answer. Smooth answer. The guy should run for office. He’s totally unflappable.

  “I just thought, if I threw a little money his way, things might get easier for the two of you.”

  Okay. Now I’m angry. I get up quickly, holding the flowers.

  “Laura—wait…”

  “I need to put these in water,” I say. I hurry to the kitchen to get a vase. Is that what this is all about? I’m some sort of…charity case?

  “Get back here!” he calls out to me. And when I don’t, he comes into the kitchen. I reach up to a shelf for a vase. He grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face him.

  “Listen,” he says.

  “No. You listen!” I say. “You hijacked my family! I don’t understand what’s going on. Joey is even more distant. Ned has begun lying to me, for the first time ever. I can’t deal with any of this.” I start to pull away. “I want…” I hesitate.

  “What?” he asks. “Tell me. Anything.”

  “I want my life to go back to the way it was! Before I met you!”

  Suddenly I see fear in his eyes.

  “You don’t mean that,” he says. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t do this to me.”

  And then he does something he’s never done before. He pulls me toward him and kisses me on the lips. Slowly.

  I whimper quietly. Or is that him? I’m not sure. I open my eyes. His eyes are still closed.

  “Laura,” he says, gently. “I’ve waited forever to do that.” Great. Now, on the list of Vince’s Positive Attributes, I can add one more: Mind Reader.

  He takes my hand and leads me back to the living room. My heart is beating so fast, I’m having trouble breathing. I’m scared, because I don’t know if I can trust him.

  No. That’s just part of it.

  I’m scared because I’ve never been kissed like that by anybody, ever.