The Girl Next Door (10 page)

Gemma turned and started as she recognized her father-in-law. “Dr. Avery.”

“Hello, dear,” Duncan said.

“Call the cops on him,” Simon insisted.

The older Spanish-speaking woman sighed and extended a hand to Cody. Grasping her
brown hand, Cody clambered out of the pond. The woman began to chatter disapprovingly
at him in Spanish.

Gemma turned on the woman. “Elena, you were supposed to be watching them. I told you
I was going to be working. What were you thinking?”

The older woman frowned at Gemma and shook her head sharply. Clearly angry, Gemma
launched into rapid-fire Spanish. She spoke like a native after spending her early
years in South America. She questioned the older woman, who glared at her and replied
in a wounded tone. Gemma shook her head and pointed toward the house. “Go in the house
with Elena, both of you. Cody, change out of those clothes and don’t leave them on
the floor of your room.”

They walked a few steps and then Cody pushed Simon out of the way and took off running.
Simon yelped and started after him. Elena, with a withering glance at Gemma, lumbered
up the lawn after them.

Gemma shook her head. “This is why I’m having so much trouble getting the book together,”
she said. “Elena was supposed to be watching them.” Gemma watched her sons as they
disappeared into the house. The back door of the house
slammed and Gemma turned to Nina and Duncan, looking ill at ease. “I didn’t know
you were coming for a visit.”

“It’s not exactly a visit. My father wanted to see the twins,” said Nina.

“Why didn’t you just come to the door?”

Patrick, Nina wanted to say, but she didn’t. “Dad just wanted to have a look at them.
They’re cute, aren’t they, Dad? He’s been looking forward to this.”

An awkward silence descended. “Well,” said Gemma. “Shall we all go inside?”

Nina didn’t want to put Gemma in an impossible position. Obviously, she had her hands
full between the twins and her work. Plus Patrick could be home at any minute. “No.
We need to go.”

Gemma smiled tensely, twisting her rings. “All right. If you have to.”

Nina turned to her father.

Duncan stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the surface of the pond.

“Dad?” she said.

Duncan frowned. “It’s dangerous to let those boys play by themselves so close to the
water,” he said.

Gemma’s smile faded. “I didn’t let them,” she protested. “The housekeeper was supposed
to be watching them while I was working. That’s her job.”

“Besides, the water is knee-high on them,” Nina said, exasperated.

“That’s all it takes,” Duncan persisted, peering intently at Gemma. “Just a minute’s
carelessness and your life is ruined.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Nina said, scowling. She turned very deliberately to her
sister-in-law. “Gemma, I’m sorry we bothered you. We’re going to go now.”

“It’s all right,” said Gemma.

“No, it’s not,” said Nina. Without another word to her father, Nina began stalking
up the lawn toward the gate.

“Hey,” Duncan said, following behind and catching up to her at the car. He jerked
the car door open. He was the one scowling now. “There’s no need to be rude to me,
young lady.”

Nina turned on him. “Rude to you? You’re the one who was rude. To Gemma.”

“Hey, let me tell you something, Nina. You don’t know everything. I understood that
conversation. She told us that the housekeeper was supposed to be watching them, but
the housekeeper said it was her afternoon off.”

“They were speaking Spanish,” Nina said impatiently. “Since when do you speak Spanish?”

“For your information, Nina, the doctor at the prison was Spanish-speaking. He taught
me,” said Duncan. “Dr. Quinteros. He was at the parole hearing.”

For a fleeting moment, Nina recalled the handsome doctor catching her eye, offering
her reassurance. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She turned on her father. “Spanish
or no Spanish, it was a misunderstanding. Why are you believing the housekeeper over
Gemma? It seemed to me that woman had a bad attitude.”

“Maybe she had a right to have that attitude. Listen, Nina, those are my grandsons.
I don’t want anything …”

“Yes, those are your grandsons,” Nina cried. “And in case you haven’t noticed, their
mother is one of the few people who’s been nice to you. You haven’t got all that many
people being decent to you. You might try not alienating the few people who are.”

“Don’t tell me how to act,” Duncan said, pointing a finger at her.

Nina felt far beyond the point where she would accept a scolding from her father.
Not after all that had happened. “Fine,
Dad. You stop embarrassing me and I’ll stop telling you how to act,” she blurted
out.

Duncan looked at her ruefully. “You know, if I’m becoming a burden to you, Nina, you
can go on back to your own life and not worry about me. I can manage.”

“Just get in the car and don’t be ridiculous. You can man-age,” she scoffed. “You’ve
done a great job of managing so far.”

The minute she said it, Nina wished she hadn’t. It had sounded terrible and she hadn’t
meant it. She was just tired, and worried about him. But she could tell by the injured
look in Duncan’s eyes that now he felt betrayed by her, too. He opened the car door
and climbed in without a word. She hadn’t meant to hurt him or insult him. She wanted
to tell him that, but somehow she knew he wouldn’t want to hear it. It was already
said, and it was too late to take it back.

T
HEY
spent an uncomfortable evening speaking to one another only when necessary. But the
next morning, when Nina began taking her aunt’s room apart, Duncan appeared in the
doorway and started pushing furniture away from the wall. As she bundled up the curtains
and started to carry them out to the washer, Duncan said, “Where’s the paint?”

She pointed it out to him, and left him opening the can on the newspaper and stirring
it with a wooden stick. When she returned, he had already begun cutting in the color
around the windows. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.

“No problem,” he said. They worked side by side making desultory conversation until
Duncan asked if he could turn on the radio, and the music, along with the sun outside,
breaking through the gray clouds, made the day seem brighter.

Before she knew it, Nina was looking at her watch and realizing it was time to clean
up and get ready to leave. All day, she
had kept an ear cocked for the phone, waiting to hear from some of the realtors they
had met, hoping someone would have a lead on an apartment for Duncan. But no one called
while they were painting. As one realtor had explained to them the day before, it
was a problem of limited supply and great demand. Hoffman was so close to New York
City that every available space seemed to be rented, or available only for a huge
price. Nina could tell that the search would have to be continued when she returned
from New York.

She needed to catch the bus back to the city, and that afternoon Duncan was scheduled
to begin his first shift at the clinic in Newark. Armed with his temporary license,
Duncan planned to drive to work. For her part, Nina had to be back in her apartment
to pick out her clothes and get to sleep early so she would look her best for her
auditions, which began early the next morning.

“Are you sure you don’t need some more money?” she asked her father an hour later
as he drove her to the bus stop on his way to Newark. It was strange to see him behind
the wheel again, to be a passenger beside him.

“I’ve got enough money. God, there’s so much more traffic than there used to be,”
he said. He had been driving carefully, almost too slowly.

“You have to keep moving, Dad,” said Nina.

“I know that, Nina.”

“Sorry,” she said.

For a few minutes they rode in silence. Then he said, “Good luck with your auditions.”

“Thanks. I’ll only be gone a few days. If somebody calls about an apartment, make
an appointment for us to see it over the weekend. And don’t forget, you have to meet
with your parole officer Thursday morning at ten. There’s food in the refrigerator
and if you need anything, you have my cell phone
number and my service number. I call the service all the time …”

Duncan shook his head. “Nina, stop it. How often do I have to tell you?”

They had pulled into a parking spot on Lafayette Street right near the bus stop. Nina
hated it when he used that tone with her. She knew he was annoyed with her. But all
she was trying to do was let him know she was in his corner. And now the peace between
them that they had reestablished that morning suddenly felt fragile. She glanced in
the sideview mirror, trying to see if the large green and silver bus was in view.

“I will miss you, though,” he said apologetically.

Instantly, she felt better. Relieved. “I’ll miss you, too,” she said. She glanced
again in the sideview mirror and looked across the street at Lindsay Farrell’s store.
With a little jolt of surprise she realized that there was a familiar car parked at
the meter in front of the store. A silver-blue Jaguar. How many of those could there
be in this town? she thought.

Duncan glanced at his watch. “Honey, I’d better be on my way. I don’t want to be late
on my first day.”

Nina was not about to mention her suspicions to her father. “No problem,” said Nina.
“I’ll wait under the shelter. The bus will be along soon.”

“I’m sorry to leave you like this,” Duncan said.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Nina leaned across the seat and kissed him on the cheek.

He nodded absently and glanced again at the map of Newark. She knew he was anxious
about finding his way to the clinic. “Good luck with the job,” she said, as she got
out of the car and took her bag from the backseat. “And, Dad, I’m sorry about what
I said to you yesterday out at Patrick’s. I didn’t mean it.”

He smiled sadly at her and squeezed her hand. “Nina,
you’ve been a lifesaver to me. No man could have a better daughter.”

She squeezed his hand back, not trusting herself to speak. She slammed the car door
shut and waved at him. “See you soon. Friday at the latest.”

Waving and looking carefully in all directions, he pulled away from the curb and merged
with the traffic. Nina sighed, and sat down on the bench to await the bus.

She thought about running through her lines for the table reading she was doing tomorrow
afternoon, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Instead, she sat watching
the people going by on the busy street. And staring at the blue Jag. After about five
minutes, the door of Lindsay Farrell’s shop opened, and a man and a woman emerged.
The woman was slim but voluptuous, wearing a short purple leather skirt and matching
spiked heels, with a brilliant red silk kimono top embroidered with brilliant, jewel-colored
butterflies. It was Lindsay Farrell. Lindsay’s platinum hair was still long, but in
a fashionable asymmetric cut. She looked even more dazzling than she had in high school.

Lindsay was resting one long elegant hand on the jacket sleeve of the man she was
with—Patrick. Patrick was speaking to her earnestly, inclining his salt-and-pepper
head toward her so that their faces almost touched. She was nodding solemnly as Patrick
spoke. They brushed cheeks and Patrick walked around the car, getting into the driver’s
seat of the blue Jag. Lindsay waved as he revved the engine.

Nina quickly bent over and rummaged in her bag. She stayed that way until she could
see that the parking space was empty. But when she zipped the bag and straightened
up, she caught sight of Lindsay, still standing outside the store, hands on her hips,
head at an angle, gazing curiously in her direction.

All of a sudden she heard her own name. “Nina?”

Nina feigned confusion and looked around, as if wondering where the voice might be
coming from. She finally looked at Lindsay, but allowed no recognition to show in
her face. Lindsay checked out the traffic and then strode across the street in her
stiletto heels toward the bus stop. Two male drivers stopped to let her pass and stared.
They were each rewarded with a flash of her dimpled smile. Lindsay stepped up on the
curve and stood right in front of Nina.

“Nina,” she said. “Don’t you remember me? Lindsay Farrell.”

Nina looked at her blankly, and then pretended a delayed recognition. “Oh, sure,”
she said slowly. “Lindsay.”

“That’s right,” Lindsay said. “That’s my shop across the street. Your brother, Patrick,
was just here. Didn’t you see him?”

“I didn’t notice,” Nina lied.

“He loves antiques. He has a really good eye.”

A really roving eye, Nina thought disgustedly. “What are you doing here? I thought
you left Hoffman,” Nina said blandly.

Lindsay shook her head. “I did. I lived in Europe for a long time. But I had to come
back. Messy divorce. I had to regroup. Anyway, I opened an antiques store. A girl’s
got to support herself somehow. You know how that is. I heard you’re still single.”
There was a grating hint of condolence in her voice and in her huge blue eyes.

“Right,” said Nina, smiling thinly.

“Patrick told me they let your father out of jail. Is that why you’re here?” Lindsay
asked.

It’s none of your business, Nina thought angrily. Was it possible that Patrick was
betraying Gemma with this vapid bimbo? It couldn’t be. Patrick had been lucky to get
away from her in the first place. He had to know that. Whatever Gemma might lack in
terms of warmth or sociability, her loyalty was unquestionable. How could he even
think about hurting her like that?

“Nina?”

“Oh yes, my dad. I’m really happy about it,” said Nina.

Lindsay tossed her silvery blond hair and it gleamed in the fading autumn sunlight.
“Really? Patrick doesn’t seem to feel that way.”

Nina glanced down the street and, to her immense relief, saw the bus approaching.

She stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. “He’s entitled to his own feelings,”
she said. “Sorry. I have to run. My bus is here.”