Gretchen and Hilary met at Sant Ambroeus every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before afternoon yoga. Over the years it had been a walk in the park, barre classes, for a little while a moms’ book club. These days the coffee was nonnegotiable whether or not they skipped the yoga, which Hilary was doing more frequently. This was not lost on Gretchen, nor was the fact that Hilary often ordered wine instead of a cappuccino, sometimes before noon. Stress at home, she said. Hilary’s boys werea lot,with the piercings and the bad sexual choices and nearly getting thrown out of Trinity every other week. And then there were the money problems, which Hilary had sworn Gretchen to secrecy about.
Scotty would be mortified if Richard found out, Hilary said. And she and Scotty were already at each other’s throats about it. But lately, Gretchen had noticed the fighting seemed to be about something more than money. She even wondered if there might be another man in Hilary’s life. But Gretchen had never asked outright. That was the thing about Richard and Scotty being so close. There were things it was better not to know.
Hilary was seated at a small round table in the back, clad in pricey, form-fitting yoga gear, her blond hair swept up in a high ponytail. Even at her age, Hilary was gorgeous and had a flawless figure, though her coarse edges could sometimes detract from her beauty. Not that Hilary could help it. In Gretchen’s experience, sophistication was a right of inheritance. It could be mimicked to some extent, but never truly learned. And besides, Gretchenloved that Hilary was occasionally crass. She had no problem telling someone they were being a bitch, or that their skirt was too short, or that they needed to chew with their mouth closed. Sometimes she could be mean—did someoneeverreally need to be told that they should start waxing their chin? But Hilary had no filter, and she’d be damned if she was going to apologize for being honest. As long as you stayed on the right side of her, it felt like love.
Gretchen made her way over to the table. She already knew she’d tell Hilary everything. Well, not absolutely everything—everythingrelevant. Gretchen trusted Hilary completely, as completely as she trusted anyone.
Hilary jumped to her feet as soon as she caught sight of Gretchen, rushing over and guiding her to the table by her elbow. “Come, come, sit.” Hilary pulled out a chair and snapped her fingers for the waiter. “Can we get a cappuccino and a glass of water? Quickly, please.”
“Thank you,” Gretchen managed as she sat down. She did suddenly feel very woozy again. Maybe she should take one of those Xanaxes the doctor had given her. She did not want to make another scene.
“Have you taken Xanax?” she asked Hilary.
“Do you mean today?” Hilary smiled and winked.
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “This situation with Richard—the doctor prescribed me some.” Technically for the situation with her ailing mother, but that was hardly the point.
“I would marry Xanax if I could,” Hilary said wistfully. “It’s the perfect companion—warm and comforting and so understanding. Thisdefinitelyqualifies as a time when it’s called for. How you are even upright is beyond me. Take one, for God’s sake, then we can talk.”
“It’s, um, in my purse.” Gretchen looked down at the Saint Laurent clutch in her lap. Her arms felt locked around it, fusing it to her.
Hilary plucked the bag from her grasp and snapped it open with the purposeful confidence of an emergency room physician.
“Here,” she said, tapping one of the peach-colored pills out intoGretchen’s hand. Hilary handed Gretchen her own water glass. “I haven’t touched this yet.”
“Will it—”
“Make everything survivable?” Hilary said. “Yes.”
Okaywas all Gretchen could think.I need survival.Gretchen took the pill and swallowed it down, chugging the entire glass of water.
“Okay, now, start at the beginning.” Hilary clasped Gretchen’s hands across the table.
Gretchen had to steel herself once more to get the words out, fervently hoping that confessing to Hilary would alleviate the shame in a way that sharing it with the children had not.
“Richard has been arrested for murdering the woman who was on that trip of theirs.”
“Well, I knowthatpart—Scotty told me.” Hilary barked out a laugh. “And that’s ridiculous, obviously.”
She was right. The murder part was absurd.
The bells on the café door tinkled. Gretchen looked toward the door as a woman entered, holding the hand of a blond toddler. The mother smiled down at her child as they approached the pastry case. Watching, Gretchen felt such a pang of longing. What if that kind of simple, charmed moment was over for her and Richard, for the children? And, God, her granddaughter. She shuddered, shifting around in her seat, trying to ignore a stab of fear.
“Gretchen?” Hilary snapped her fingers. “Focus.”
“I’m sorry. What?”
“Whydo they think he did it? I haven’t spoken to Scotty since he went to see Richard.”
“They have someone who says they saw Richard near her apartment. Also, they claim they found evidence. Atourapartment.”
Gretchen wasn’t mentioning the so-called statements. She’d already all but erased those from her mind. As Scotty had said, whatever they were had been a product of exhaustion, nothing more, and the police wouldn’t be able to use them anyway. But she was aware of how bad it sounded that they even existed. She didn’t much like how it felt, either.
“What did they find at the apartment?” Hilary asked.
“I don’t know. They haven’t said. I guess they don’t have to tell you the details until the arraignment.” Gretchen took a breath. “Arraignment. God, can you imagine? How is this real?”
Hilary was quiet for a long moment, squeezing Gretchen’s hands as she stared down at the table. Finally, she looked up, her gaze calm and steady.
