Watch Out for Her, page 8
Charlie walks away then, going right past Holly without even noticing her. When he’s gone, Daniel slides out a phone from inside his suit jacket and taps. She watches as he furiously presses keys, beads of sweat forming at his temples.
Whatever happened between these two men, Daniel looks so stressed. He works at a computer software firm, so maybe he and Charlie do business together and something’s gone sour? Or it could even be about a stupid golf game. With these men, you never know. She can’t believe how intense her father gets about his handicap.
Holly steps out of the alcove, and Daniel’s face changes, recovering quickly. He slips the phone back into his suit jacket pocket, flashing her a grin. “Holly! So nice to see you.”
“Is Sarah here?” Holly asks. “I mean it’s nice to see you, too, but where’s Sarah?”
Daniel laughs. “In the ballroom, I think. What a fun party. We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Stan’s an old friend.” He looks pleased with himself. “And your dad and I have started golfing this summer. Did you know that? It’s been really great.”
“He told me. He’s glad you’re playing with him and Stan.”
Daniel doesn’t acknowledge the phone or the tense conversation with Charlie. Instead, he says, “I needed a break from that crowded room and to check in with the babysitter.” He runs his fingers through his thick hair, his eyes skimming her tight dress.
Holly never minds when men check her out. It’s a primal reaction, and it gives her power. But Daniel’s doing so makes her feel a twinge of something else. Something like disgust. She feels protective of Sarah.
There’s no denying that Daniel’s an attractive man—tall and slim, though with a slight dad stomach, and strong-looking hands. His suit is tailored, and his shoes shine. She’s surprised how good he looks all dressed up. He’s more put together than Sarah, who’s heading down the hallway toward them.
“Holly! You look so beautiful.” Sarah snakes an arm around Daniel’s waist. Her black sheath dress has no shape, swallowing her generous curves, and she attempted an updo, but it isn’t tight enough, so strands fall haphazardly around her face. Holly wants to brush them into place for her.
“Lisette insists on my glamour,” Holly says, then immediately wants to slap her own hand over her mouth. She didn’t mean to voice that so directly, but that’s the way Sarah always makes her feel—like for once in her life, she can speak the truth.
Sarah chuckles and turns to Daniel. “Did you reach the sitter?” Before he can answer, she touches Holly’s arm. “Jacob was really upset you weren’t babysitting tonight. He seems to think you belong to him.” She laughs.
Daniel turns to his wife. “I just talked to Nora. Everything’s fine at home.”
Interesting. He never made a call home, but Holly’s not about to stir up trouble. At least Sarah is a proper mother, concerned about her son, talking about babysitters and worrying about Jacob because he’s an important part of her life.
Daniel kisses Sarah’s cheek. “I’m going to the men’s room. I’ll see you ladies back in the ballroom.”
“Sure, honey.” Sarah smiles at Holly. “I’m heading to the ladies’ room.”
“Me too.” Holly follows her down the hall to the first door on the right, where a bloodred plush banquet chair and full-length mirror greet them. Her stomach cramps have passed now that she’s with Sarah.
Holly points to Sarah’s hair. “Can I fix that? It’s coming loose.”
Sarah looks in the mirror. “Is it? Sure. Thanks.” She sighs, and Holly hears the weight of the world in her breath. “I wish I was young like you. It’s so much harder to do this when you’re my age. I wish I had hair like yours.”
Holly’s used to the compliment about her hair. Her long auburn waves always get a lot of attention. It’s the one gift her mother gave her. She doesn’t have to reach up because she’s a good five inches taller than Sarah, so she leans down and removes the pins. She redoes Sarah’s hair in a perfect, classic chignon. Then she rummages in her silver clutch and pulls out a highlighter makeup stick.
“May I?” she asks. “Just a little touch-up.”
Sarah nods, and Holly adds a pink glow to her cheeks.
Sarah glances in the mirror. “I look terrible, I know. I was downplaying how upset Jacob was that you weren’t babysitting tonight. He had a complete meltdown.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You have to be with your family.”
“I’d rather babysit, to be honest.” Holly puts the highlighter back in her purse. “I pretty much count the minutes until these events are over.”
Sarah smiles. “Really? Me too. But we do what we have to do.”
Holly feels those words in her soul. “I wish…” She stops.
“You wish what?” Sarah asks.
“Nothing. Never mind.” She fakes a grin. “I should get back before Lisette and my dad send a search party. Plus, my stepsister is on her own in there.”
“I’d love to meet her,” Sarah says.
Holly’s chest tightens. She doesn’t want to introduce Alexis to Sarah. She wants to keep Sarah to herself. At least for tonight.
She’s in luck, because when they return to the ballroom, Alexis is nowhere in sight.
“I think I’m done for the night. I just want to go home and get back to Jacob. I don’t like leaving him for long when he’s upset. You know?”
“Of course,” Holly says. “He’s still young, and the last thing you want is for him to be traumatized when you go out.”
“Exactly,” she says. “Ugh, once I find Daniel, I’m out of here.” Her eyes search for him. He doesn’t seem to be in the ballroom. “At least I talked to Gloria and Stan, which is the main thing. And Daniel can just tell everyone Jacob was having a meltdown.” She wraps Holly in a hug. “If I don’t see you later, I’ll see you on Monday.”
Tears spring to Holly’s eyes at the simple gesture. She hugs Sarah back, then Sarah exits the ballroom in search of Daniel. As soon as she’s gone, Holly feels someone watching her. She swivels toward the bar. Charlie Lang catches her eye. It’s time.
She walks over, touches his arm. She checks to make sure her father is paying attention. He is. He’s standing with Stan at the buffet table and raises his martini glass to her.
She turns to her mission for the night. “Hello, Charlie.”
“Ms. Monroe.” His nearly black eyes roam the length of her body. “What’s your poison?” He gestures to the bar. “I’m buying.” He laughs like he’s so clever.
She laughs back, hating herself the whole time. “Just a Coke, please. I’m driving.”
He orders for her and sips from his highball of Macallan. She watches his strong fingers grip the glass, her own skin feeling hot and tight.
“Have you had a chance to tour the Ritofan lab? We’re ready to start phase three of the clinical trials.” She makes sure to hold his gaze, as though he’s the only person in the room to whom she wants to talk.
“I have. It’s impressive.”
She’s feeling off her game tonight, not quite sure what to say. Or is it the dress? It’s a fine line to toe, between looking sexy yet sophisticated: the pious daughter on the one hand; on the other, a young and available ingenue eager for instruction. Maybe it’s not the dress, though. Maybe it was seeing Sarah and Daniel here, her worlds colliding in a way she doesn’t want them to.
Holly runs her finger around the rim of her glass. “I’m sure my father told you that he’s seeking FDA approval of Ritofan now that importation to the US has been approved?” She twinkles her eyes at him. “It’s very exciting.”
“It’s promising. And expensive.” He raises his bushy eyebrows. He’s looking at her mouth. “Tell me more.”
She glances around the room. “Is your wife here?” she asks, knowing full well she’s in Lake Louise with their teenagers. It’s why Lisette keeps pressing the importance of tonight to clinch the deal.
He smiles slowly. “No. It’s just me. All alone.”
Holly suppresses a shudder. “Do you want to take a walk? It’s a beautiful night, and it’s too loud to talk about something so private here.”
Charlie puts his glass on the bar and lets his hand fall to graze the small of her back. Holly scans the room again for Alexis and spots her with Lisette, chatting with Nadia and her fiancé. Lisette turns to Holly over her shoulder, nodding once with satisfaction. Then she puts her hand on Alexis’s back and pivots her away to chat with another cluster of guests.
When Holly and Charlie exit the ballroom together, Holly glances behind her, hoping her father might see her, might either stop her from leaving the party or come along with her, but he’s chatting with Daniel. He waves at her, then continues talking. Holly looks around for Sarah, but she’s not with her husband. She probably went home alone.
She regains her focus on the task at hand. “Come,” she says, as she fakes her enrapture with Charlie and leads him out of the club and toward the farthest parking lot, where Holly left her Jeep. It takes them about three long minutes to get from the crowded party to the remote and quiet lot, which is mostly empty and pitch-dark. She clicks open the locks. Holly slides into the front seat while Charlie’s large, imposing frame fills the passenger seat like it’s his car and he’s letting Holly take it for a spin.
He reaches over, his meaty hand heavy on her neck. She grabs his hand, removes it from her body.
“You seem like an eager investor. Are you really?”
“Oh, I am,” he says. “I promise you that I am.”
Only then does Holly release his hand. It immediately wanders back to her neck, where she strokes her fingers across it. As she lowers her head, she looks out her windshield toward the bushes lining the far end of the parking lot. Her body jolts.
It’s just for a moment before they disappear, but she could swear a pair of eyes were trained right on her.
CHAPTER SEVEN SARAH
Now
It’s Sunday morning, and when I open my eyes, I’m confused about why I’m smooshed next to Jacob in his bed, the bottoms of my pajamas cold and damp. Then I remember we’re in Toronto, in our new house, and I saw someone in our backyard last night.
Jacob’s still sleeping, with Mr. Blinkers in his arms. I hold him close, listening to him breathe. I used to be so worried about his defiance with his teachers, how easily he distracted his friends, disrupting every class he was in. Constant individual assessment plans, sports therapy—nothing worked to help him focus. Educational psychologists were convinced it wasn’t attention-deficit or oppositional defiance disorder. Jacob simply enjoyed being the star of his own show.
I regret my impatience with his mischief and desperately hope the excitement of yesterday is here to stay, no more wallowing in sadness.
I stretch my sore muscles, extricate my arm from under Jacob’s waist, and get out of the bed as quietly as possible.
I look through the slatted blinds. It rained heavily after I searched the backyard in the middle of the night, and the footsteps marked on the path are gone. Only pools of water remain. Sun dapples through the wet leaves of the Manitoba maple, and the grass looks lush. Even though the heat is on, I tug the window up, breathing in the fresh, clean air. Today is a new day.
“I smell bacon.”
I startle at Jacob’s croaky voice. He’s lying on his side, looking at me.
I sniff the air and smile. “I think you’re right.”
He hops out of bed with more energy than I’ve seen from him in weeks. “I have to pee!” he calls out before running to his bathroom, taking the bunny with him.
I laugh, but it stings a little, too. We’ve gone from diapers and Pull-Ups to Jacob doing so much by himself. One day he won’t need me. I both want that and don’t want it.
I head to the kitchen, where there’s a plate of fluffy pancakes stacked high, and bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove. I’m shocked. I didn’t even know Daniel could make pancakes. The decor is dark, but light filters through the sliding doors, making everything feel safe. I feel silly for being so scared last night. Maybe I didn’t really see someone out there. I know my imagination plays tricks on me.
“New skill you’ve picked up?” I joke and kiss Daniel’s cheek.
He kisses me on the mouth, and I drift into it, grateful for his attention and newfound willingness to share the household responsibilities. Maybe it’s real that he does want to change, wants to regain the closeness we once had.
He turns back to the stove, his muscles stretching across the white T-shirt he sleeps in. “When I was little, my mom taught me to make pancakes. I don’t know why I never did this for you guys before.”
Because I took on that role and you were happy enough to just be served. I think it but don’t say it because we’re finally in a better place in our marriage, better than a month ago at least.
“From now on, you’re the breakfast maker,” I say. A weight lifts from my shoulders. It’s that easy to cede control. To accept help. I catch irritation on his face before it morphs into a consenting nod.
While Jacob is still upstairs, I fix myself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter. It’s weird trying to find mugs and spoons in my own house. I take a few sips, then tell Daniel about the bang I heard in the night, the person and footsteps I think I saw in our yard.
He sighs and puts down the spatula. “Just one day. That’s all I want,” he mutters under his breath.
I flinch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He faces me. “I’m sorry, Sarah. But we just got here yesterday, and it’s been one thing after another. I’d like to enjoy the day for even a minute before there’s some incident that scares you.”
I glare at him. “That’s so unfair. There were hidden cameras when we got here and—”
“I heard back from Courtney. She thinks the previous residents probably put those cameras inside the house,” he replies.
I frown. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
Daniel grabs a plate from the cupboard, placing it next to the stove. “I didn’t get a chance, Sarah. Jeez, you just got down here.”
He’s right. I have to give him a chance, stop second-guessing him all the time. “So… Courtney. She’s sure the cameras belonged to the previous tenants?”
“It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Who else could they belong to?” I hear a sharpness to his voice, and I know I’m being dismissed. “Also,” Daniel adds, “I installed the security cameras outside yesterday, so let’s just let it be.”
“About that,” I say. “Let’s check the cameras. I wasn’t thinking straight last night. Maybe I didn’t really see anyone in the yard, but can we look at the security app to be sure? The footprints were right under Jacob’s window, Dan.” I cock my chin at his phone on the island.
“I didn’t put a camera in the backyard, but there’s one at the side of the house leading to the gate.” He turns off the stove, moving the pan of bacon to another element, and grabs his phone. Then he punches into an app and angles the screen so we can both view it.
I gasp as someone, head down in a bulky hoodie pulled tightly around their face, skulks through the narrow passage between our house and Tara’s. He or she walks carefully, quickly, toward the backyard, I assume, and disappears off camera, not appearing again.
“Holy shit. You’re right,” Daniel says, drawing away from me and bringing the phone closer to his eyes. “I don’t get it. Where did they go?”
I move closer, feeling him flex and unflex his bicep. He’s nervous, which worries me even more. And I’m already having trouble controlling my distress. I didn’t want to be right. I feel like crying. “Maybe they hopped the back fence. I can’t identify a single feature. Can you?”
He shakes his head.
Fear skitters up my chest. “I think we should call the police about this backyard prowler,” I decide. “Maybe I’ll mention the inside cameras, too.”
“I’ll do it,” he says, and puts his phone on the counter. “I’ll call them.” Then he takes my hands in his. His palms are sweaty. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you saw someone out there last night.” Water rushes through the pipes from upstairs, and he glances at the ceiling. “Jacob will be down any minute, and he needs to feel good here. Happy. We all do.”
“I’m trying, Dan. I’m trying.”
He nods. “I know. But listen, I grew up here. People prowl. Sometimes it’s teens goofing around; sometimes it’s just petty criminals looking for something quick to steal and sell.”
I jerk, but he doesn’t notice and continues. “There are porch pirates who steal packages and people who sneak into backyards to take stuff, Sarah. Shit happens. It’s not the end of the world.”
I want to believe Daniel, but he’s not always right. He likes to think the worst won’t happen. I ignore the sick ripple in the pit of my stomach and smile brightly when Jacob finally comes downstairs in his Avengers pajamas, Mr. Blinkers dangling from one hand. Jacob’s blue eyes are so big, and his shaggy blond hair falls in his beautiful face. My first thought is I want to tether him to me and never let him out of my sight. But I know I can’t do that. It’s wrong. And futile.
“First family breakfast in our new house!” I make Jacob a plate of pancakes and bacon and hand it to him, swallowing my usual words of caution not to drop the plate. What does it matter if it breaks?
We sit at the kitchen table and all laugh as a squirrel looks inside from the door in the yard. It’s a perfect tableau I wish I could capture and hold forever. But I’ve left that part of me behind, so I force myself to simply be present, enjoy this moment until Daniel can call the police.
“I think if we get a dog, I’ll like it here even more,” Jacob says, then shovels bacon into his mouth.
“Small pieces, buddy,” Daniel tells him, and we exchange a smile. “I don’t think now’s the right time for a dog.”
Jacob’s face falls.
“I’ll bet that Emily woman we met yesterday would let you pet Roscoe again.”
He brightens. “Today? Right now?”
