Chương 3
“No.”
“What?”
“She’s alive.”
“No.”
“Apparently she called the restaurant tonight.”
“Claire.”
“She paid for dinner.”
Megan said nothing.
Claire kept going because if she stopped she might begin crying, and she did not want crying yet.
“He’s still married to her.”
“What do you mean still married?”
“I mean exactly what it sounds like.”
“No. Wait. He married you.”
“Yes.”
“Legally?”
Claire opened her mouth.
Closed it.
They had obtained a license.
They had stood in front of eighty-two people at a vineyard in Virginia.
A judge who was a friend of Daniel’s family had performed the ceremony.
Claire had signed documents.
She had changed her name on some accounts but not professionally. Her Social Security record. Insurance. Beneficiary forms.
She suddenly felt nauseated.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Megan swore.
Claire walked into the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet.
“I slapped him.”
“What?”
“At the restaurant.”
“Okay.”
“That is not an okay thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You said okay.”
“I mean I heard you.”
Claire leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
“I hate that I did that.”
Megan was quiet.
Then, “Do you want me to come over?”
“No.”
“I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“I’m coming.”
Claire did not argue.
After hanging up, she opened the bathroom drawer because she suddenly needed a hair tie. She found one tangled around the handle of Daniel’s razor.
She sat there holding it.
Such a stupid thing.
A black elastic ring.
She remembered Daniel complaining three mornings ago that her hair ties reproduced in the house like mice.
She had told him they were marking territory.
He had said, Then I surrender.
Claire dropped the hair tie on the counter.
When Megan arrived, she brought two coffees even though it was almost eleven at night.
“You always want coffee when something terrible happens,” she said.
Claire took one.
“I’m going to regret this.”
“Probably.”
They sat at the kitchen island.
Megan was four years younger and had always been more visibly emotional. As children she cried during arguments Claire barely remembered. As an adult she could also become terrifyingly practical when frightened.
She took out her phone.
“Do you have the receipt?”
Claire handed it over.
Megan stared at Rebecca’s name.
“Could this be someone else?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Daniel told me Rebecca isn’t dead.”
Megan’s face hardened.
“Right.”
“He didn’t even pretend.”
“That’s probably the only intelligent thing he’s done tonight.”
Claire looked at her.
“I don’t want you turning him into a monster before I know what happened.”
Megan blinked.
“He invented a dead wife.”
“I know.”
“You just said you don’t want me—”
“I heard myself.”
Megan put the receipt down.
Claire drank coffee.
It tasted terrible.
Neither woman spoke for nearly a minute.
Then Megan said, “Do you remember her funeral?”
“No.”
“Did he say where she was buried?”
“I never asked.”
“Did you ever meet anyone who knew her?”
“A few people. I think.”
“You think?”
Claire put down the coffee.
“I was not conducting an investigation.”
“I know.”
“Stop looking at me like I failed some intelligence test.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Megan looked away.
That hurt more because it proved Claire was right.
“I’m sorry,” Megan said.
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“I knew he had been married. I knew he hated talking about it. I thought that was grief.”
“Did you meet his old friends?”
“Some.”
“From before?”
“Mostly work people.”
“Family?”
“His parents were dead before we met. His brother lives in Oregon.”
“Have you met the brother?”
“Once.”
“At your wedding?”
“Yes.”
Megan hesitated.
“Did his brother know?”
The question settled between them.
Claire did not answer.
At 11:37, the doorbell rang.
Both women froze.
Claire checked the security camera on her phone.
Daniel stood on the porch.
Megan stood.
“No.”
Claire remained seated.
Daniel rang again.
Then knocked.
“Claire, I know you’re in there.”
Megan looked at her.
“What do you want?”
Claire hated the question because it required knowing.
“I want him to leave.”
Megan opened the inner door but kept the storm door locked.
Daniel looked past her.
“I need to speak to Claire.”
“She doesn’t want to speak to you.”
“This is my house.”
Megan’s eyes narrowed.
“Not the line I’d lead with tonight.”
“Megan, I’m not doing this with you.”
“Good.”
Claire came into the hallway.
Daniel saw her.
Relief crossed his face.
It made her angry.
“Give me ten minutes,” he said.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You told Megan’s husband we had a fight.”
Daniel glanced at Megan.
“I didn’t know what to say.”
“How about, ‘My first wife called during dinner and unfortunately she’s less dead than I previously reported’?”
He winced.
Megan made a small choking sound that might have been a laugh.
Claire disliked herself for enjoying it.
Daniel put his hand against the glass.
“Rebecca and I separated eleven years ago.”
“Why isn’t she dead?”
He stared at her.
Claire waited.
“I know how that sounds.”
“No. You know how it is.”
“I lied.”
There it was.
Small.
Plain.
Almost insulting in its inadequacy.
“Why?”
His mouth moved.
“I met you at a terrible time.”
“Try again.”
“I was trying to get out of that marriage.”
“You told me you were already out because she was in a cemetery.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Daniel looked down.
Megan crossed her arms.
Claire said, “Are you legally married to Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
Megan whispered, “Jesus.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“And when we got married?”
“Yes.”
“Were you legally married to her then?”
“Yes.”
There was nothing dramatic in his delivery.
That somehow made it unbearable.
Claire unlocked the storm door.
Megan turned sharply.
“Claire.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
“I want to hear him.”
Daniel stepped inside.
He smelled faintly of restaurant smoke and his cedar cologne.
Claire had bought that cologne for his birthday.
She hated noticing.
They returned to the kitchen.
Daniel did not sit until Claire did.
May you like
Megan remained standing.
“So,” Claire said. “Explain how I became your wife while you already had one.”
