My mind careens back to the ugly tidbit she shared. It could be confirmation of my fears, that Guy was sleeping with Eve. No, I tell myself. The rumor has to be about someone else. Whatever frustrations Guy might have because of my accident, I can’t believe he’s felt like I’ve sucked the joy from his life.
The coffee arrives, and after a minute I realize my stomach is roiling, so much that I have no desire for it anymore. I extract a credit card from my purse and glance through the window, searching for the waitress. As my gaze sweeps over the dining room, I’m met with a surprise. Guy’s assistant, Miranda, is sitting at one of the tables, her red hair lifted slightly by the breeze from an overhead fan. She’s with two other women her age, probably enjoying a Saturday girls’ lunch with her friends.
I raise my arm about to wave, but then catch myself. She’s listening intently to one of the other women and hasn’t even noticed me. It’s just as well. If she saw me she might feel compelled to say hello, and that’s the last thing I need today. I’m sure Guy hasn’t divulged that he’s been living back at his apartment, but knowing Miranda, she’d detect from talking to me that all isn’t right with my world.
I pay the bill and make my way to the parking lot. Right as I’m about to start the car, my phone rings, and I catch my breath when I spot “Dallas, TX” on the screen. Gavin Bloom is calling me.
“Are you somewhere you can talk?” he asks as soon as I answer. “Privately?”
So I was right yesterday. Bloom wasn’t being honest with me, and he’s clearly calling back to come clean.
“Yes, I can talk now.”
“You caught me off guard yesterday. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry I phoned out of the blue—there didn’t seem to be a way around it.” Keep it slow and easy, I tell myself. Don’t rush him. “I appreciate hearing from you.”
“There’s actually some information I’d like to pass on to you, information I wasn’t prepared to divulge before. I needed to discuss the matter with my wife first.”
This sounds significant. Maybe Paul was suffering from depression and Bloom was privy to that.
“Okay.” Every muscle in my body seems to vibrate in anticipation. I may finally have a clue to what happened to me on that dreary stretch of highway out of Boston.
“No offense, Ms. Harper, but Paul didn’t have any romantic interest in you. He was crazy about Stephanie—and by the way, I’ve called and reassured her since the two of us spoke yesterday. But there was something he felt he needed to share with you.”
“I’ve wondered if that was the case.” Maybe it was a career crisis after all.
“I doubt he concocted the Boston trip in order to tell you. Rather, I suspect that he decided to take advantage of the fact that you were both there on business, away from the fray of New York. From what you’ve said, it doesn’t sound like he had the chance to bring it up the night of your speech. My guess is that he was going to discuss it with you during the car trip home.”
“Was it about his work?”
“His work?” he says, obviously surprised by the question.
“I’ve wondered if he was at a crossroads professionally and wanted to bat ideas around with me.” But clearly not. So just tell me, I think. I realize I’ve started to perspire in the hot car, and I crack open the door a few inches to catch the fresh air.
“No, everything was good in that department. Look, Ms. Harper, I need you to know that I’m going out on a limb here. It’s . . . it’s awkward. But my wife and I feel Paul would want me to pass this along. Because that’s what he’d intended to do.”
“What is it?” I exclaim. I don’t have the patience anymore to go slow.
“It’s about your husband.”
Everything that had started to race a few moments ago—my heart, my breathing—now freezes. It takes me a moment to even make my lips move.
“What do you mean, my husband?”
“Like I said, this is very awkward. Are you aware that your husband lived in Dallas once?”
“Dallas? No, he never lived in Dallas.”
“Your husband worked in Dallas for about two years as the president of a charity that employed my wife as well—a community foundation called Dallas Gives. He left about seven years ago. Paul didn’t think you were aware of it, and he felt he had to let you know.”
My exasperation intensifies.
“You clearly have him mixed up with someone else.”
“Look, I feel terrible telling you this, but I’m sure I’m right.”
“But what are you basing this on? How would you even know who I was married to?”