“The parents swore they’d be home by eleven, so expect them at midnight. And watch out for Hannibal Lecter when you tell him it’s bedtime. Last time he tried to gnaw on my wrist when I took away his Play-Doh.”
Sam nicknamed all the kids in her class: Hannibal was the biter, Yoda the tiny philosopher, Darth Vader the mouth breather. But when it came to cajoling a kid out of a tantrum, no one could do it better than Sam. And she’d convinced Linda to spring for rocking chairs so that teachers could soothe kids who suffered from separation anxiety.
A horn tooted and Nellie looked up to see Richard’s BMW convertible pulling up. He double-parked next to a white Toyota with a parking ticket on the windshield.
“Nice ride,” Sam called out.
“Yeah?” Richard shouted back. “Let me know if you want to borrow it someday.”
Nellie caught Sam rolling her eyes. More than once, Nellie had wondered if Sam had a nickname for Richard. But Nellie had never asked. “Come on. He’s trying.”
Sam squinted as she looked at Richard again.
Nellie hugged her quickly, then hurried down the steps and toward the car as Richard got out to open the passenger-side door.
He wore aviator sunglasses and a black shirt with jeans, a look Nellie loved. “Hi, beautiful.” He gave her a long kiss.
“Hi yourself.” As she got into the car and twisted around to grab her seat belt, she noticed Samantha hadn’t moved from the doorway. Nellie waved, then turned back to Richard. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.” He started the car and pulled away from the curb, heading east onto the FDR Drive.
Richard was quiet during the ride, but Nellie kept seeing the edges of his mouth curl up.
When they exited the Hutchinson River Parkway, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a sleep eye-mask. He tossed it onto her lap. “No peeking until when we get there.”
“This feels a little kinky,” Nellie joked.
“Come on. Put it on.”
She stretched the elastic band across the back of her head. It was too tight for her to peek out the bottom.
Richard made a sharp turn and she was pressed against the door. Without visual clues, she couldn’t brace her body against the vehicle’s movements. And Richard was driving fast, as usual.
“How much longer?”
“Five or ten minutes.”
She felt her pulse quicken. She’d tried to wear a sleep mask on an airplane before, hoping it would help ease her fear. But it had the opposite effect: She’d felt more claustrophobic than ever. Sweat pricked her armpits and she realized she was clutching the door handle. She almost asked Richard if she could just shut her eyes, but then she remembered the way he’d smiled—that boyish grin—as he tossed the mask on her lap. Five minutes. Sixty times five was three hundred. She tried to distract herself by counting the seconds in her head, visualizing the second hand of a clock sweeping around in a circle. She let out a gasp when Richard squeezed her knee. She knew he’d meant it affectionately, but her muscles were tense and his fingers had dug into sensitive spots right above her kneecap.
“Just another minute,” he said.
The BMW stopped abruptly and she heard the motor die. She reached to rip off the mask, but Richard’s voice stopped her: “Not yet.”
She heard him open his door, then he came around to let her out, taking her arm to guide her as they walked on something that felt hard beneath her shoes. Not grass. Pavement? A sidewalk? Nellie was so accustomed to the noise constantly surrounding her in the city that its absence was jarring. A bird started to trill, then its notes abruptly died. They’d only been driving for thirty minutes or so, but she felt as if they’d traveled to a different planet.
“Almost there.” Richard’s breath was warm against her ear. “Ready?”
She nodded. She’d have agreed to anything to take off the mask.
Richard lifted it up and Nellie blinked as sharp sunlight blinded her. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself staring up at a large brick house with a SOLD! sign staked in the front yard.
“It’s your wedding present, Nellie.” She turned to look at him. He was beaming.
“You bought this?” She gaped.
The house was set back from the street and sprawled across a lot that was at least an acre. Nellie didn’t know much about homes—the modest single-floor brick house she’d grown up in in South Florida could be described as “rectangular”—but this one was obviously luxurious. The details as much as the size were the giveaways: an enormous wood door with a stained-glass window and brass handle, manicured gardens rimming the lawn, tall lanterns flanking the walk like sentries. Everything looked pristine, untouched.
“I’m . . . speechless.”
“Never thought I’d see that,” Richard joked. “I was going to save it until after the wedding, but the settlement went through early, and I couldn’t wait.”
He handed her the key. “Shall we?”
Nellie walked up the front steps and fit it into the lock. The door glided open and she stepped into a two-story foyer, hearing her footsteps echo against the glossy floor. To her left she could see a wood-paneled study with a gas fireplace. To her right, an oval-shaped room with a deep window seat.
“There’s a lot still to be done. I want you to feel like a part of this, too.” Richard took her hand. “The best part is the back. The great room. Come on.”
He led the way as Nellie followed, trailing her fingertips along the floral wallpaper until she caught herself and yanked them away before she left a smudge.
The room’s name was an understatement. The kitchen, with its sand-colored granite counters and bar featuring a flush cooktop and wine refrigerator, flowed into a dining area capped with a modern cut-glass chandelier. The sunken living room had a recessed ceiling with wood detail, a stone fireplace, and wainscoting on the walls. Richard unlocked the back door and led her to the second-story deck. In the distance, a double hammock swayed under a tree.
Richard was looking at her. “Do you like it?” A crease formed between his eyebrows.
“It’s . . . unbelievable,” she managed. “I’m scared to touch anything!” She gave a little laugh. “It’s so perfect.”
“I know you wanted to live in the suburbs. The city is so loud and stressful.”
Had she told him that? Nellie wondered. She’d complained about the chaos of Manhattan but couldn’t recall saying she wanted to move. Maybe she had, though, when she’d talked about growing up on a residential street; she’d probably mentioned a desire to replicate that environment for their children.
“My Nellie.” He walked over and enveloped her in his arms. “Wait till you see the upstairs.”
He took her hand and led her up the split staircase, then down a hallway past several smaller bedrooms. “I thought we could turn this one into a guest room for Maureen.” He pointed. Then he opened the door to the master suite. They stepped through side-by-side walk-in closets, then into the skylight-filled master bathroom. Beneath a row of windows was a Jacuzzi for two, and the separate shower was enclosed in glass.
One hour ago, she’d been inhaling the smell of the onions her neighbor was frying and stubbing her toe on the case of Diet Coke Samantha had left inside their door. She, who was thrilled when she got a 25 percent tip or discovered a cute pair of Hudson jeans at a secondhand store, had somehow wandered into yet another life.
She looked out the bathroom window. A row of thick green hedges blocked the view of the neighbors’ house. In New York, she could hear through the radiator the couple who lived one floor above arguing about the Giants game. Here, the sound of her own breathing seemed loud.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “Just someone walking over my grave. Creepy expression, right? My father used to say that.”
“It’s so quiet.” Richard took in a slow, deep breath. “So peaceful.” Then he gently turned her toward him. “The alarm company is coming next week.”
“Thank you.” Of course Richard had thought of that detail.
She wrapped her arms around him and felt herself relax against his solid chest.