After slipping off her own shoes, Karen sank her feet into the new ones. They were a little snug around the toes, but otherwise fit perfectly. If she and Clay ended up at dinner somewhere fancy, it would be nice to have some equally elegant footwear to put on, she thought. At present, her only dress shoes were a pair of boring black pumps that were best described as “business attire.” Karen quickly stuffed the heels in her tote bag. Then she returned the box to the top of the file cabinet, this time with the lid on. If someone asked what happened to them, she figured she could feign ignorance.
Once again, Karen prepared to leave the PTA office, but this time her mind returned to the Easter lunch she’d helped organize a few weekends before at the First Baptist Church of Christ Almighty. She pictured Jayyden in his baseball cap, then Aunt Carla in her sweatpants and shower shoes, both of them waiting patiently in line for their gravy and meat. Then she imagined Aunt Carla examining the charred remains of her apartment. On a whim, Karen reopened the second drawer of the desk, pulled out the checkbook, and wrote a check to herself for ten thousand dollars. She would send five thousand to the PTA of Betts, she decided, and five thousand to Carla Price, care of Fairview Gardens. Maybe Carla could use the money to replace some of the furnishings that had been damaged in the fire that Jayyden had or hadn’t set. Karen locked the door behind her and then walked back down the hall and out the front entrance of the school.
It had been a long time since Karen had been in the Hungry Kids office on a Friday. She found it nearly empty. A good number of her colleagues must have petitioned to work from home on Fridays too, she thought. The exception to the rule was Molly herself. She immediately came over to Karen’s desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she began, “did you hear anything back from Clayton Phipps about joining the board?”
“I’m planning to speak to him this afternoon,” Karen told her. “We’re actually meeting up.”
“Oh!” said Molly. “Well, that sounds promising.”
“Promising and possibly foolish, but we’ll see.” At least I’m not lying, Karen thought.
The morning dragged on. Karen went through the motions of doing her job, but she was counting the minutes until two o’clock. At one o’clock, she went to the bank and cashed her latest check. She dropped two envelopes in the mailbox outside. Then she walked into a nearby department store. It had been so long since she’d gone clothes shopping for herself that she wasn’t even sure what department to look in. Women’s? Contemporary? Studio? Eventually settling on Contemporary—she suspected the prices there might be lower than in Women’s—she picked out a new skirt, top, and matching bra and underwear. The total came to three hundred and eighty-nine dollars. The bathing suit would have to wait. While paying, she checked her watch and discovered that Clay’s car was due to arrive in ten minutes. Karen hurried back to the office.
His white Range Rover SUV was already out front, a driver at the wheel.
“Hello, world traveler,” said Clay, kissing Karen hello as she slid into the seat next to him. He was wearing the same pilled fleece pullover he had on the day they first met for lunch.
“I’m not talking to you until you tell me where we’re going,” she announced as the car sped off down the avenue.
“Don’t you trust me?” he asked.
“Why should I trust you?” said Karen.
“Why shouldn’t you trust me?” said Clay.
“Because,” said Karen, swallowing hard.
“Because nothing,” said Clay, pulling her toward him and nuzzling her neck. That was when Karen noticed the bottle chillers, then the individual climate controls. It was amazing how quickly one grew accustomed to luxury and even began to find it normal. Indeed, within minutes of climbing into Clay’s SUV, Karen couldn’t imagine how she’d ever been content driving around in her beat-up old Honda Civic with its vinyl seats and plastic dashboard. And how was it that the seeming entitlement of the Embellished Tunic Moms at Mather should so irk Karen while Clay’s unfathomable wealth met no resistance from her conscience? “I’ve missed you,” he murmured in her ear. “Kiss me.”
And she did. Wasn’t that why she was there? And then she did it some more. At Clay’s touch, Clay’s smell, Clay’s very proximity, Karen felt her insides growing soft and warm…
They took a private plane to a five-star resort on the tiny Caribbean island of Mustique. Clay had reserved them a sprawling villa with a terra-cotta floor, a thatched roof, and its own pool, chef, butler, and white sand beach. The first night, while dining on a patio overlooking the sea and under the stars, Karen wore the snakeskin heels that hadn’t sold at the Mather PTA benefit auction, along with her new outfit. “I have an idea,” he said, taking her hand under the table. “What about you and I moving down here and starting our own pizza boat like Scooter. I’m serious.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” Karen promised him. And for a second or two, she actually did…
Later that night, they got incredibly drunk and had incredible sex—at least from what she remembered the next day.
In the morning, they slept in, then went snorkeling and saw neon fish in shades of blue and orange. After lunch, they lounged around the pool. In the late afternoon, drunk on the sun, they collapsed on the bed. They’d just begun to make love again when Clay paused, crinkled up his eyes, and said, “Do you ever just think for a moment that the crazy people might actually be right, and the world is about to end or something? Like all that hokey stuff about the Messiah showing up and passing judgment is actually going to happen. And that God really is some old white guy with a long white beard. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”
“To be honest, I don’t spend that much time worrying about it,” said Karen, laughing. “But I do worry I’m one of the crazy people.”
“Well, then, come here, Crazy Karen Kipple from College,” said Clay, pulling her on top of him. He was laughing too.
At that same moment Karen saw her phone vibrating across the room. In her attempt to block out real life, Karen had turned off the ringer before she’d even gotten on the plane. At first, she tried to ignore it. Then it happened again. It was clear that someone was trying to reach her. But whatever it was, couldn’t it wait?
Clay was sliding down her bathing suit when, across the room, Karen saw her phone shimmying yet again. By then, she was deep in the throes of her own internal vibrations and able to block out the sight. Another ten minutes must have gone by. Or maybe it was twenty. Finally, she collapsed in a heap, and then so did Clay. Then she remembered again, slid off the bed. “Where are you going?” he murmured.
“One second,” she said.