Woman in Black (37 page)

But Lila also knew that if she were to make up some lie, she'd be caught at it eventually, so she had no choice but to give an honest answer. “I work up at Rose Hill,” she said, tensing a bit in anticipation of Barb's response.

Barb's entire demeanor changed, and Lila could see that she was belatedly connecting the dots. Barb gaped at her, unable to mask her surprise. “Goodness. I had no idea it was
you
. I probably should have recognized you, but you look different than in your newspaper photos.” She blushed, as if realizing too late that Lila might not want to be reminded of all that.

“I suppose I
have
changed.” Lila gave a rueful grimace. “A lot's happened since then.”

This is where I'll be shown the door
, she thought. Wasn't that partly what had landed her in this backwater in the first place—the notoriety that had prevented her from getting a job elsewhere?

But Barb surprised her by replying kindly, “Well, I'm not one to judge. Half of what the newspapers print is nothing but a pack of lies, in my opinion. And you seem like a nice person, so I'll tell you what, the offer still stands. I'll talk to my boss as soon as she gets in tomorrow.”

Lila swallowed against the lump in her throat. It probably wouldn't amount to anything, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Thank you. That's very kind of you.”

“Don't mention it.” Barb walked her to the door. “I suppose you'll be at the big do tomorrow night?” she asked as Lila was leaving.

Lila was momentarily at a loss; then she recalled the benefit at the yacht club on Saturday. Kent was one of the organizers, and he'd been nice enough to set aside tickets for her and Neal—tickets that would have cost her a hundred dollars a head had she had to pay for them. Not that she was exactly dying to go. This would be her first social event since moving to Stone Harbor, and she feared the reception wouldn't be as warm as the one Barb had given her.

“Of course. I'm looking forward to it,” she lied.

Barb smiled as she handed Lila her coat. “Well, in that case, I guess I'll see you there. I had to twist my husband's arm—the only thing Joe hates more than spending money is dressing up to go out at night. But I told him we were going if I had to drag him kicking and screaming all the way.

Lila knew just how Barb's husband felt. This would be more like a trial by fire than the event of the social season for her. Already she was bracing herself for being stared at and whispered about. She'd have given it a pass if Kent hadn't talked her into going.

“Don't forget, you're flying under my flag,” he'd said with a wink when she'd shared her fears with him. “Whatever anyone might think, they won't dare say a word.”

On her way back to the house, after stopping at the dry cleaner's and at L'Epicerie to pick up the items on Abigail's shopping list, Lila's thoughts returned to Kent. It wasn't just that he treated her with respect. With him, she could forget for whole chunks of time that she was the household help; he always acted as though she were someone he'd have enjoyed spending time with under any circumstances. In the evenings before Abigail got home, he'd often sit and chat with her over a glass of wine while she cooked dinner. He would tell her about his day, usually managing to work in an amusing story about some patient—never referring to them by name, of course. He'd always remember to ask how Lila's day had gone, too. As if the only thing to break up the monotony of her routine on any given day weren't the UPS guy showing up at the door. And if something was on his mind, he'd often run it by her.

Just yesterday, he'd asked her, “So what do you make of this business with Phoebe and Neal? Do you think it's serious?”

Lila paused in the midst of chopping scallions to eye him across the kitchen counter. “I don't know. What's your take on it?”

Kent, seated on a bar stool at the counter, took a thoughtful sip of his wine. “I'm not sure, to be honest. They're certainly thick as thieves these days.”

The way he said it made her wonder if it hadn't been just a poor choice of words. “Are you worried that they're having sex?” she asked, knowing she didn't have to tiptoe around Kent.

“Worried? No. I assume they're up to something.” At the shocked expression she must have worn, he smiled. “Don't forget, I'm a doctor, so I've seen it all. I've had girls as young as thirteen coming to me for pregnancy tests. It's not so much whether or not my daughter is having sex that concerns me as whether it's
irresponsible
sex. I just hope whatever they're doing, they're being careful about it.”

“Neal's always been responsible,” she told him. A little too responsible at times. “I don't know anything about his sex life—he'd bite my head off if I ever stuck my nose in
there
—but I feel it's safe to say that he's not going to make me a grandparent anytime soon.”

Kent chuckled. “Good. Because that would make me one, too.”

“The main thing is, he and Phoebe seem to be making each other happy, so I don't see the harm in it.”

She wondered if “happy” was the right word. Neal was still moody, and Phoebe, though perhaps a little less withdrawn these days, was hardly a ray of sunshine. It was more like whatever was eating at Neal, he'd found a kindred spirit in Phoebe, and vice versa.

Just as Lila had found one in Kent.

If only Abby were as easy!
she thought. For a while, it had seemed as though Abigail were softening toward her. There had been moments when it had almost been like old times, the two of them in the kitchen together, Abigail instructing her in the intricacies of some recipe or, on occasion, helping her clean up after a meal, the two of them chatting while Abigail washed and Lila dried. And there had been that scary incident a few days after Christmas, when Gillian had phoned to say that Vaughn was on his way to the hospital with a fever of 105. Though it had been late at night, Abigail hadn't hesitated to jump into her car and drive Lila all the way into the city. In their shared concern over Vaughn, all grievances had been temporarily shelved. More than that, Lila had derived real comfort from Abigail's presence as they'd sat huddled together outside Vaughn's hospital room, waiting for the doctor to complete his examination.

“Do you think he'll be all right?” Lila asked anxiously at one point.

“Of course. He's survived far worse, hasn't he?” Abigail reminded her, sounding more confident than Lila suspected she felt. “What's something like this compared to a sniper's bullet?”

“He told you about that?”

Abigail nodded. “He even showed me the scar.”

“Remember the time he broke his arm falling off the hay mower out at old Mr. Hutchins's farm?” Lila recalled, thinking of how reckless Vaughn had been as a boy—really, it was a wonder he'd made it this far in one piece. “I thought Mr. Hutchins was going to have a heart attack, but Vaughn kept insisting he wasn't hurt, that it was just a sprain. He was so mad when they put his arm in a cast because it meant he couldn't play ball for the entire summer.”

“How could I forget? He spent the time coaching everyone else on the team on how to up their game.”

Abigail and Lila shared a smile at the memory. And for a little while, Lila felt as close to Abigail as in the old days as they sat there, side by side. By the time the doctor emerged to report that Vaughn would be all right, that he was suffering from nothing worse than a touch of pneumonia and they'd already started him on a course of antibiotics, Lila had already known somehow that it was going to be okay.

But these past couple of months, the coolness Abigail had shown toward her in the beginning had returned. Lila had become uncomfortably aware, too, of Abigail's watching her more closely as she went about her tasks, the way she might have if she'd suspected that Lila were stealing from her. (What déjà vu
that
would have been!) Lila wondered what had prompted it—had she said or done something to make Abigail distrust her?—but when she'd asked Kent about it, he'd brushed aside her concerns, saying, “I wouldn't make too much of it if I were you. She's probably just keeping an eagle eye out for some spot or stray piece of lint that you might have missed.”

If Abigail had been around more, it might have been intolerable, but these days she usually didn't get home from work until late, often not until well after Kent and Phoebe had gone to bed. On more than one occasion, Lila had been roused from sleep by the crunch of tires in the driveway and had peered out her window to see a lone female figure making a dash for the front door, shoulders hunched against the cold. Lila might have suspected Abigail of having an affair and wondered if her ungodly hours had more to do with late-night rendezvous than her brutal schedule, but she knew better. The “other man” was Vaughn, and he was too sick to lift his head off the pillow half the time, much less climb under the covers with Abigail. (Not that he would have under any circumstances, not with a married woman.) So that pretty much ruled out any hanky-panky. As for what else Abigail was up to, Lila thought it might have something do with a sticky situation at work—she'd overheard snatches of conversation the few times she'd been in the same room as Abigail while she'd been on the phone, something to do with her factory in Mexico, from what Lila could gather. Whatever it was, it had Abigail on edge. Maybe that was why she'd been behaving so strangely. Maybe it had nothing to do with
her
, Lila thought, hoping it was true.

She arrived back at the house to find the just-plowed drive dusted with another inch or so of new-fallen snow. As she climbed from her car, she waved to Karim, who was shoveling the walkway alongside the house. She was picking her way cautiously toward the back door, holding the bundle of dry cleaning high to keep its plastic shrouding from trailing on the ground, when she slipped on an icy patch of concrete and went sprawling backward onto her rear.

Before she could make a move, Karim was bending to help her to her feet.
My guardian angel!
she thought. He even looked like one—the photonegative of an angel, at any rate, with his dark eyes and dusky skin, wearing a navy parka and black watch cap, against the snowy backdrop.

“Are you all right?” he asked, peering at her with concern.

She brushed snow from her coat. “As much as anyone can be while looking like a complete fool,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “It's my fault. I should've watched where I was going.”

“Here, let me help with that,” he said as she bent to gather up the plastic-shrouded clothing lying in a heap on the ground. Together they sorted the tangle of hangers into an orderly bundle, which Karim, noticing that she was limping slightly from her fall, insisted on carrying inside for her. Lila was left with no choice but to follow meekly behind. He didn't relinquish the dry cleaning until they'd climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

“You seem to have a habit of showing up when I'm at my most helpless,” she observed as she emerged from the closet after hanging up the clothes. “I'm not always like this, I swear. I used to be fairly self-sufficient.” If you didn't count the doorman and the super at her former residence, she added silently.

“In my country, a woman would be severely reprimanded for such ideas,” he replied with mock seriousness. “But you've been punished enough for one day, so I shall let it go this time.” He cast a glance at the sore hip she was rubbing, his brown eyes crinkling in amusement.

Lila was suddenly conscious of the fact that they were standing in the bedroom. No one else was home. Phoebe was at school, and both Abigail and Kent were at work. It was just she and Karim, alone up here, with the snow swirling down outside, making her feel as though they were inside a giant snow globe. She felt slightly dizzy, partly from her fall but also due to Karim's nearness: the kind of vertigo she associated with climbing tall ladders … and falling in love.

Not that she had any intention of falling in love. For one thing, it was too soon. Her husband hadn't even been gone a year. Besides, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to feel that vulnerable again. It was enough just having Neal to worry about, without another person in her life over whom she would surely fret each time he was late coming home, knowing better than most how abruptly a loved one could be taken from you—a sudden illness, a heart attack, a car sliding out of control on an icy stretch of road. A loaded gun.

“I should bring in the groceries,” she said in a strange, high-pitched voice she hardly recognized as her own.

“Please, allow me,” Karim said.

Neither of them made a move. They just stood there, side by side, gazing out the window at the snow coming down, stealing glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes every now and then. Karim had taken off his jacket, and she saw that he had on the same burgundy knit pullover that he'd been wearing the day she'd gone into the woods with him in search of a Christmas tree … and had found something more than she'd bargained for.

Karim was the first to break the silence. He cleared his throat, asking, “So, this benefit tomorrow night, are you going?”

“As far as I know,” she said. She'd made plans to go into the city to visit her brother earlier in the day, but she would be back in plenty of time.

“In that case, I thought perhaps we could go together.” From his posture, so still and erect it was like a held breath, she could tell that it was more than the offer of a ride.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked, filled with a strange mixture of panic and pleasure at the thought.

“Yes, I suppose I am.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Forgive me if I'm going about it all wrong. I'm not very practiced at this. Where I come from, we don't ‘date.' A man must first approach the woman's parents, and nothing can happen without their blessing.”