The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [110]
“A surprise?” She mused over the matter for a bit. “Is it Toy Story?”
Her eyes were so bright, he felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t thought to buy her the movie. He didn’t have time to attend to such things now. Last night’s unfortunate rendezvous with Theresa had already added days he couldn’t afford to his master plan. Also, beneath his long-sleeved black turtleneck, his shoulder throbbed from the bullet wound. He moved stiffly and resented it fiercely.
“It’s not Toy Story,” he said, his voice tighter.
Samantha cringed and he forced himself to smile. He’d forgotten just how sensitive children could be. The minute he relaxed, so did she. Her eyes grew contemplative once more.
“Did . . . did . . .” Her face grew very bright. “Did you get me a new brother or sister?”
In spite of himself, Jim blinked his eyes in shock. “No,” he said slowly. “Has Mommy talked about getting you a new brother or sister?”
Sam shook her head glumly. “No, but I’ve always wanted one.”
He smiled, and for a change the gesture was genuine on his face. From the moment he’d first seen Samantha nestled against Theresa’s breast, he’d been enraptured by his daughter. She was half him, half his genes. He could see himself in her bright blue eyes. Already she showed promise of great intelligence and great resilience. Even as a baby she hadn’t cried as much as other babies cried. She was better than all that. Sweet, genuine, and strong. She was the better part of him.
“Daddy,” she demanded, impatient now.
That made his smile grow. He was pleased that she’d called him Daddy. “It’s better than a brother or sister. I got you a new grandma.”
“Grandma? You mean Grandma Matthews is here?” She looked very puzzled.
“No, a new grandma. Now you have two.”
She slowly nodded. “Two grandmas. When do I get her?”
“In the morning.” He brushed back her hair. “I have to go away for a while, but you’ll meet your grandma when you wake up. She’s tall and heavy, and speaks with a light accent I’m sure you’ll find funny. Do what she says, Sam. She’ll take good care of you.”
Sam didn’t look convinced.
His thumb brushed her cheek. “Do you trust me, Sammy?”
More slowly this time, she nodded.
“Good. I’ll take care of everything. In just a few days I’ll be back. And then we’re going to leave. I think we’ll go someplace very warm, what do you think of that?”
“Will Mommy come with us?” she whispered.
“No.”
“Grandma and Grandpa Matthews?”
“No.”
“The . . . the new grandma?”
His eyes grew unreadable. “Maybe,” he said at last. “I haven’t decided yet.”
EDITH HAD JUST sat down on her patio with her morning cup of tea and a wool blanket, when Martha’s front door opened. For a moment Edith was startled. It was still dark out; Edith had always been an early riser, and these days her insomnia had her up before even the sun. In the first hours of dawn the air in the community was almost normal again, almost peaceful.
But the door opened, and the air was shattered. Edith felt goose bumps rise on the back of her neck. She clutched her warm mug tighter.
Martha stepped out and looked at her from across the way.
There was tension between them. It had been growing ever since Martha’s return, taking shape and substance from the myriad small lies that had inexplicably fallen from their lips. It had gained permanence yesterday, when Martha had simply disappeared. Edith had gone over for their nightly cigar and found the house empty. Just empty. Martha didn’t owe her an explanation, of course. The woman was responsible for her own life, but the mysterious absence, the undefined disappearance, had dealt the final blow to the fragile friendship between them.
It made Edith think of just how little she knew Martha, just how little the woman spoke of herself. She’d moved into the neighborhood two years earlier, been around for a bit, then hightailed it to Florida with barely a by-your-leave. The phone calls in between had made the absence less conspicuous, but Edith was paying attention now. She was realizing she really didn’t know her neighbor at