The Secrets You Keep

We take a minute to peruse the dinner menus, and by the time the waitress returns with our drinks, we’re ready to order. Nick mentions he’s not bothering with an appetizer, that we should go ahead if we want, though of course we follow his lead, and I’m relieved. It will mean a relatively early night. I just need to use it my advantage. I want to gain a better sense of Kim, and whether she has it out for me.

And something else. I want to learn for sure that Guy’s told me the truth about attending the dance museum fund-raiser with Nick. It will be one more way to bolster my trust in him.

During cocktails, Nick launches into the history of the club—where the land came from, how it was developed, new plans for expansion, his possible involvement in that expansion. The guy either loves the sound of his own voice or is simply enthralled with any aspect of real estate—or most likely a combo of both. Guy listens enthusiastically, because that’s what his job demands, and I force myself to look attentive.

From time to time, I steal a glance at Kim. She seems to be eating up everything Nick says, as if she’s his biggest fan—or she’s faking it brilliantly.

Guy shoots a bunch of questions Nick’s way, which he gladly answers. It’s not until the food arrives that Nick finally quiets down. He picks up his fork and steak knife and directs his full attention to the shoebox-sized piece of beef on his plate.

“How are the kids, Kim?” I ask. “Will you be taking a family vacation this summer?”

She twitches a little in her seat, clearly eager for the chance to finally sneak a word in. “We’ve got a cabin on Lake George, and spend weekends there, as well as most of August.”

“Guy and I took a drive up to the lake once last year. It’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it? The kids are now total rock stars on their water skis, and they can’t wait for Fridays. Do you water ski?”

“Not since I was a girl.” As I say the words, an idea forms, a way to possibly flush her out and determine if she left the burnt matches. “And unfortunately it’s out of the question these days. I was in a car accident a few months ago, and I’m still on the mend.”

I read the surprise in Guy’s eyes. The accident is a subject I never bring up in public, so I’m sure he’s wondering why I’ve raised it now.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she says. “It didn’t happen up here, did it?”

She either knows nothing about the accident or she’s doing a good job pretending not to.

“No, when I was traveling on business.”

Nick raises his head, like a jungle cat whose attention on a bloody carcass has been diverted by a sound from the brush.

“That’s dreadful,” Nick says. “I assume that living in New York means you have access to top-notch docs, but Albany Medical has some terrific people, too. If you need any referrals, just let me know.”

“Thank you, that’s good to have in my back pocket.” I say, keeping one eye on Kim, who looks all sympathetic.

“You’re on the board there, aren’t you, Nick?” Guy asks. From there Nick launches into a lengthy discussion of the center and his disdain for Obamacare. Guy indulges him, lobbing thoughtful questions. Kim beams. Plates are cleared and coffee is ordered. There’s still another piece of information I crave, but I can’t imagine how I’m going to tease it out.

As we sip our coffee, I hear the faint buzz of Guy’s phone in his pants pocket. I assume that for courtesy’s sake he’ll let the call go to voicemail, but he excuses himself and disappears into the restaurant.

“Well, this has been fun,” Nick announces.

“I’m so pleased you asked us.” I grab a second to compose my next comment so that it won’t seem obvious that I’m fishing. “I know Guy has really enjoyed the time the two of you have spent together.”

“It’s mutual. And I appreciate you letting me steal him last week for that dance museum event, and then keeping him so late.”

Reeling in the truth turns out to be far easier than I’d imagined. I experience a flash of guilt from having checked up on Guy but instantly give myself a pass. I had to know that he was where he said he was. And he was.

“No problem whatsoever,” I say. “Guy had a terrific time.”

“Yeah, he said he enjoyed the dance performances, though I never got much of a look at them. I was there mainly to schmooze.”

Guy returns to the table and says that if everyone’s set, he’ll signal for the check. Nick informs him that he made arrangements to have the bill paid before we even sat down. We both offer thank-yous, though Guy’s mind seems to be elsewhere. He gnaws briefly on the edge of his thumb.

“Shall we?” Nick says, rising.

We cross the terrace and exit through the wood-paneled dining room, still half full with customers. Nick quizzes Guy about the opera schedule, and I end up walking alongside Kim.

“How’s your friend Derek?” she asks, her voice as low as a purr. “He seems very charming.”

“He’s not actually my friend. He’s someone Guy met through work and thought would be fun in the mix.”

“Oh, really? You seemed so nice and cozy together, I assumed that you’d known each other for ages.”

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