There had to be an explanation. David would never cheat.
She sat up. Searched the other jacket pockets. Got up and pulled every jacket, sweater, coat, shirt, pair of pants, robe, pajamas, sweatshirt from the closet and searched every single pocket and sock and shoe and pair of boxershorts. Nothing. Not a penny, business card, or matchbook.
She pulled out David’s family photo album and thumbed to the page titled,Second Grade. She compared David’s school picture with Luca’s photo. They looked like twins.
Turning on the bedside lamp, she examined Luca’s photo. The boy stood next to an elaborately carved wooden sign with the words,Château Soltner. The vineyard had to be in France. If it was in America, Sophie would have used the word, “harvest,” not “vendange.” The soil was chalky white, the grapes green, the grape leaves yellow and red. White wines were produced there, wherevertherewas.
Dread slid down and sat in the pit of her stomach like wine sediment at the bottom of a bottle. She hadn’t been in David’s office since she closed the door after the paramedics removed his body. How long had he possessed the photo?
The child was now a year older. Why hadn’t Sophie called David or sent him a letter? The image of a pile of unopened mail puddled in her mind. She’d opened all the bills, statements, tax documents, and anything else that appeared official and trashed the rest. But nothing had arrived for David in the past six months.
The doorbell rang.
She groaned. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever. She would not answer. It was probably some missionaries, anyway.
A banging on the door echoed in the foyer.
She willed whoever it was to go away. But it could be Holly, the mom next door who had four children. She hoped not, but she couldn’t ignore an emergency. She stumbled to the hall and saw a tall, slender, dripping wet Marti peering in through the side window, and she’d spotted Claire. Claire bumped the heel of her hand to her forehead. She’d forgotten their Tuesday lunch.
Just what she needed, her best friend since they were college roommates, from whom she kept nothing.
Chapter 3
“Areyouallright?”Marti shouted. Her red curls sprayed raindrops as she pummeled the door.
Claire stood rigid as Marti embraced her. “When you didn’t show up for lunch, I called your cell and got a weird message saying the number wasn’t in service, and then I called your office and they said you didn’t work there anymore, and then I called your landline, and it’s now a septic tank removal service!”
“Crap.”
“Exactly. Why don’t you have a landline?”
“I never used it, and I’m trying to save money.”
“What’s going on?” Marti backed away. Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Why’re you wearing David’s jacket?”
“David has…had a son.” Claire hadn’t dared say it aloud, but she’d said it. Her heart felt like a rock, its weight weakening her knees.
Marti hung up her raincoat and wrapped her arm around Claire’s waist. “We need a drink.” She pulled Claire to the couch, sat her down, and handed her a tissue. “White okay, or does this call for bourbon?” She headed for the kitchen.
“White,” whimpered Claire. “Bring the bottle.”
“Why is there no food in the fridge, except for cheese and olives?”
“I’ve been working late at the office.”
“Uh huh.” Marti handed her a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and set down napkins and a plate of cheese and olives. “Houndstooth is definitely not your color. Why do you think David had a son?” She sat next to her.
Claire handed her the photo.
“Jeesh, he’s the spitting image of David.” She sipped her wine. “A doppelganger?”
“Too young.”
She flipped the photo and read the back. “OurLuca?” Marti’s sparkling brown eyes bored into Claire. “David wasn’t the type to cheat. He adored you. There must be an explanation. Have you looked through his laptop?”
“As confirmation that my husband had an affair?” Claire’s hand shook, splashing her wine.
“No.” Marti stood. “I’m defending your husband, who I know worshipped you since the day he followed us all over Paris until I left you for five seconds, and he spilled lemonade all over you and fell in love with you.” She grabbed a napkin and wiped up the spill. “Could he have donated sperm, I mean for money, when he was a college student?”
