“I’m okay, really,” she insists.
“I have to deliver an espresso to Amanda and see Henry off, and then I’ll be back, okay?”
When I return to the living room, white porcelain cup and saucer in hand, Amanda’s perched on one of the mint-colored armchairs, scanning the room with her eyes.
“Thanks,” she says when I hand her the cup. “I was sorry to hear about Claire, by the way. I expressed my sympathy to Gabe, of course, but I’ve picked up from Henry that you were close to her.”
“Yes. I was very fond of her.”
“You’re lucky,” she says, after taking a sip and licking a tiny bit of espresso foam from her pink-glossed upper lip. “His mother never took to me. Which meant it was no fun having to spend so much time with his parents.”
I knew Claire resented Amanda for the way she blew upthe marriage, but I had no idea that there was any issue prior to that.
“What makes you think she didn’t like you?” I ask, keeping my tone even.
“She never came right out and said it, of course. But she’d leave me out of conversations. Rarely made eye contact unless she had to. When it came to making plans with us, she’d only talk to Gabe about them. And the slights were so subtle, it was hard to convince Gabe it was going on.”
This is all news to me. “Do you have any idea why she acted that way?”
“I was never sure, no. I think she felt I wasn’t supportive enough of Gabe when he was launching the business—and that I didn’t leave enough time for him because of myownwork. And then... there was that little indiscretion of mine, and that was the nail in the coffin, of course.”
I bite my tongue. Who could blame Claire for being upset about her son being cheated on? Any mother would have been.
Amanda sets her cup on a side table with a clunk. “You may not be aware of this,” she adds, straightening her back, “but it was Claire who told Gabe I was having a fling.”
The revelation stuns me. Gabe never breathed a word of it to me.
“How—”
“How did she find out? Believe it or not, I’m pretty sure she had me tailed by a private investigator.”
This is getting more nuts by the minute. “She had youfollowed? That sounds like a fairly drastic step.”
“Not for a puppet master like Claire. She liked being incontrol, making sure everything ran the way she wanted it to. You know, it was only a fling, and if she hadn’t busted me and told Gabe, maybe we could have gotten through that rough patch.” Her expression turns wistful. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re much better for Gabe than I was, and I’m glad he found someone like you. But for Henry’s sake, I wish we’d never split.”
I need to end this conversation now. She’s not only bashing Claire but she’s also clearly rewriting history: Gabe told me he was willing to try to work things out, but that Amanda considered the so-called fling a symptom of a marriage that they’d both outgrown.
I rise, signaling I’m done, and right then Henry comes charging into the room, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder. He and I hug good-bye as Amanda heads out to start the car, and I almost can’t bear it when his arms finally drop. He’s been such a trouper throughout this whole nightmare.
“You didn’t sneak Bella into your duffel bag, did you?” I tease.
He shakes his head and laughs briefly before his face darkens. “Summer, are you and Dad going to be okay?”
“Of course, honey,” I say, feeling another pang. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t want you to get sick or anything.”
“We won’t, I promise.”
As they drive off a minute later, I watch from the stoop, then wander back to the living room and start pacing. I’m still feeling sick about my exchange with Gabe, but now I’m also troubled by Amanda’s comment that Claire was a puppet master.Wasshe? Was I so caught up in the thrill ofbeing accepted into this dazzling family that I never saw it? Is it possible that she hired an investigator to look into Hannah, too? Which reminds me: somehow in the middle of this nightmare, I’m going to have to figure out how to address my concerns about Claire’s death.
“There you are.”
I turn to see Blake in the entrance of the room, blazer-free now and cradling a snifter filled with an amber-colored liquid, brandy probably.
“Is Wendy doing okay?” I ask.
“She’s stressed, needless to say, but since the sonogram was fine, I’m not overly worried on that front. By the way, I heard from Marcus a minute ago. He and Keira decided to stop off someplace for a drink. I’m sure they’re desperate for a change of scenery.”
