Her meeting with the Sherifs was scheduled for ten o’clock, so Natalie had plenty of time to swing by the bakery to pickup some Lebanese cookies. She didn’t know where Dr. Sherif was originally from, but she knew an Arabic accent when she heard one. When she’d lived in the Village, there were several Turkish families on her floor and the men sounded just like Dr. Sherif.
Even if he’s not impressed by the cookies, his wife will be, she thought as she drove slowly up the driveway. Tramp was outside and had a terrible habit of chasing their cars to the street.
At the top of her driveway, she paused, distracted by a slash of red to her left.
Glancing at Mrs. Smith’s house, Natalie saw a sports car parked in front of Mrs. Smith’s door. Not on the curb outside the electric gate, but right in front of the house.
Natalie recognized the car. It was Don’s garnet-red Aston Martin.
“What the hell?”
She hit the brakes and stared at Don’s empty car. He wasn’t in the car or on the front porch, so where was he?
He’sinside. Withher.
She waited a few minutes to see if he’d come out. When he didn’t, she wondered if she should knock on Elaine’s door and tell her about Don, but she couldn’t risk being late. She had important things to do today.
The bakery. The meeting with the Sherifs. Selling the McCreedy house.
Natalie hit the gas and drove up the winding road. When it flattened out near the top, she pulled into Beth’s driveway. She shoved the column shifter into Park, left the engine running, and raced to the front door.
She pounded on the thick wood. “Beth! Are you there? It’s Natalie!”
She knew it took Beth forever to get ready in the morningsand wouldn’t be surprised if her friend was still in the shower or lingering at her vanity while she painted her nails or nursed a cup of coffee.
“Beth!”Natalie jabbed the doorbell three times in succession. If that didn’t convey urgency, she didn’t know what would.
Finally, the door cracked. Natalie caught a glimpse of Beth’s swollen, tear-streaked face and immediately reached out for her friend.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Don.” Beth’s voice was hollow. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “We had an appointment at nine. At St. Mary’s, a Catholic orphanage. We were going to meet with one of the sisters so she could take us on a tour and introduce us to some of the children. Don doesn’t want to adopt, I know he doesn’t, but he said he’d go. For me. He said he’d go.”
“So, what happened?”
Beth leaned her head against the door frame. “The phone rang an hour ago. I was still in bed, but Don picked it up in the kitchen. He talked to someone for a minute or two and then he took a shower and got dressed. I thought he was getting ready for our appointment, so I got up, too. I was happy, you know? I was so excited to see the kids, but I could tell Don wasn’t. He looked mad.”
Nothing new there, Natalie thought.
“And?” she prompted.
Beth seemed to shrink. “He said that my only job was to give him a baby, and I’d failed. He said he wasn’t going to raise another man’s bastard kid—that he’d be better off finding a new wife. Then he left.”
“Oh, honey. No wonder you’re upset.” Natalie rubbed Beth’s arm. “Did you see which way he went?”
“What do you mean? He has work. He— Wait. Do you know where he is?”
“I saw his car as I was leaving my house. It’s parked across the street.”
Color leeched from Beth’s face and Natalie hurried to slip an arm around her in case she fainted.
“He’s withher?”
Natalie hated hurting her friend, but she couldn’t lie.
“His car is there. That’s all I know. Maybe he’s dropping off paperwork for the Porsche or something.”
Beth stared at her like she was an idiot. “You didn’t see him in the driveway, did you? They weren’t out there, chatting about the car. She doesn’t come out. That means he’sinsideher house. Isn’t he?”
