—
Thursday the library was open until eight p.m. When Bonny from the circulation desk asked if Darcy could do her evening shift, Darcy was glad to agree. She’d been too busy during the day to think about Clive or Nash, and she wanted to keep busy and let her thoughts churn away at the back of her mind. Maybe they’d offer her a decision on a platter: Sleep with only Nash? Sleep with Clive and Nash? Tell Nash about Clive? But what if Nash slept with another woman—and she knew plenty of women who wanted to sleep with him—would she be riddled with jealousy? She kind of thought she would.
The children’s library was crazy busy all evening. Darcy didn’t have a moment to think about herself, and it was with relief she locked up and hurried home. She poured herself a glass of red wine, kicked off her shoes, and went out to her garden. The grass beneath her bare feet was cool and oddly cheering. Sinking onto her lounger, she took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. It was dusk. The sky was slowly withdrawing the clear blue of day, allowing night to arrive. The light was on in Clive’s window and music softly drifted into the air.
She knew she had messages on her cellphone, but she hadn’t brought it out with her. She needed to be alone for a while. She wanted to relax and sort out her thoughts. Clive was a player, she was pretty sure about that. But Nash hadn’t expressed any desire for a long-term relationship. If she told him about Clive, would Nash think she was pushing him for some kind of commitment?
“I thought your yard was strangely quiet.”
Darcy almost jumped off her chair. The voice was so near her, she thought for a moment that someone was standing next to her.
“And thank God for that.” It was a man, on the Brueckners’ side of the hedge. So it was Otto.
“Where are your sons?” Now Darcy could place the voice: Autumn’s.
“Susan’s brother and his family are stopping in Boston on their way to London. Susan took the boys up to see their cousins. They’ll be gone for three, maybe four, days.”
“Oooh, interesting. You know, Boyz is in Boston, too. He won’t be home until Saturday.”
A moment of silence. Darcy could feel herself holding her breath.
“How do you like your rental?” Autumn asked. “Is it large enough for you and your family?”
“It is large enough.” Otto replied. “And you, do you like your rental house?”
“Very much. I’d invite you over to see it, but I’ve given Willow this night to watch something on television.”
“Would you like to see mine?”
“Very much.”
“Perhaps I can offer you a glass of wine.”
Their voices trailed away as they crossed the yard. Darcy held back the urge to stand on top of her patio table to peer over the hedge and call out, “I can hear you!” She didn’t care if Autumn was unfaithful to Boyz, but she hated the idea of Otto cheating on Susan.
But what business was it of hers? Plus, why would she even suspect they were cheating? Maybe he was only going to show her the house and she was only going to tour it.
Darcy chuckled softly, remembering the summer a group of parents rented the house next door for five of their college-age sons. The boys went to the beach all day and partied all night. Darcy had never called the cops even as the summer deepened and the parties grew louder. She could have; a town regulation required all loud noise and music to stop at eleven o’clock. But she had kind of enjoyed the boys. Kind of envied their carefree lives, their maniacal laughter, their freedom to revel in the summer. Her only defensive action had been to walk around her garden in the morning, pick up the beer bottles and cans that had been tossed over the hedge, and rather gleefully throw them back in the boys’ yard.
Why had she changed? Why did she care if Otto Brueckner slept with Autumn or if Willow had sex with Logan?
Well…Nash was a new element. Lust was easy; lust felt good, it made her blood pound and her worries disappear behind a fog of desire. But love…she wasn’t sure she had a handle on love yet, not even after having been married.
Darcy knew Lala and Lala’s family had loved her when she was a baby and a little girl. She had photo albums; she had memories. But Lala wasn’t about love, not really, she was about being pursued, being caught, being adored. She was like a seductress with an extremely short attention span. Lala wanted nothing as confining as marriage. She wanted to be gorgeous and naughty and desired. She reveled in the gifts men gave her, the trips she enjoyed with them, the flowers and phone calls and nights out. The seduction, the lure, the intrigue, the catch.
As a young girl, Darcy had been mesmerized by her fabulous mother. She had thrilled to the moment the door opened and Lala swept in, carrying with her a flotilla of fragrance that filled every corner of the room and lasted long after Lala had left.
“Darling child, Mama’s beauty, I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams.” Lala would kiss Darcy’s forehead and drift away.
That bright, twinkling, precarious appearance, that sparkle, had been what Darcy thought was love. No wonder she had married the sparkling Boyz. He and his family were an entire chandelier of sparkle.
Penny had loved Darcy, too, in her own calm, reliable way. She had made Darcy feel safe and cared for.
So maybe that was what love was, part sparkle, part safety.
Autumn, Boyz’s new wife, was definitely sparkle. Who knew what kind of unspoken agreement she had with her husband about fidelity? Certainly fidelity had not been included in Boyz’s definition of marriage with Darcy. But she’d bet it was part of Susan Brueckner’s understanding of marriage. Or maybe not. What did she know? Maybe Susan was meeting her boy toy in Boston while her sons played with their cousins.