The flirting had picked up once she’d gone to work with Tom. In fact, she’d been slightly concerned about it before she accepted the job. But they were friends. It was harmless. She needed the work. Two years of working together had flown by with real inside jokes this time, but limits, too. They didn’t eat together. The door always stayed open if she was in his office. They never carpooled. Safe boundaries they’d put in place without talking about them. Without thought. Because that’s what you say when you’re acting subconsciously, isn’t it? That some other part of you was in control the whole time, and you never knew it.
Then they’d had to stay up all night working on a project leading up to the launch of some new software. The office had been alive with people. That atmosphere you only get when you mix stress, sleep deprivation, and the slightly off scent of take-out Chinese and pizza. They’d finished up around two in the morning, but Kaitlyn had volunteered to stay behind with Tom to help clear up the office. Kaitlyn had cleaned the break room, then sat down on the couch for a moment to rest. The next thing she knew it was morning. Her neck was stiff and Tom was shaking her gently. Someone had draped a blanket over her.
“Time to get up, sleepyhead,” Tom said. His face was unshaven, his hair mussed. He looked tired but amused. Sexy in his rumpled shirt.
“What happened?”
“You fell asleep.”
“Oh no. Joshua—”
“Don’t worry. I texted him.”
“Good. Thank you.” She checked her watch. It was just after seven. The break room faced east. The sun was beaming in through the windows. “I should get home.”
“I’ll take you.”
They gathered their things, then drove home in near silence, the traffic all the other way. The thrum of the tires on the pavement lulled Kaitlyn back to sleep. Tom nudged her again when they were at her front door. Joshua’s car was gone. She must’ve just missed him and the girls on their way to school.
“Home sweet home.”
“Yes,” she said, looking at the solid brick, the sashed windows. She should do something about the flower garden. Her perennials were getting unruly.
“Take the day off,” Tom said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m going to.”
“Well, all right then.”
“Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Anytime.”
Kaitlyn reached for her seat belt and came up against Tom’s lips on her cheek, just left of her mouth. She pulled back.
“What was that for?”
“Thank you.”
“I was only doing my job.”
He shrugged. Kaitlyn felt uncomfortable, alert.
“I should get some sleep,” she said.
“We both should.”
Kaitlyn got out of the car and told herself not to look back. Not to be the girl who watched a man drive away. But what was she even thinking of? This was Tom. Her friend. Her friend’s husband. It must be the exhaustion. It must be all in her head. She would rinse it out immediately with a good shower and be done with it.
Inside, her house was deeply quiet. The type of quiet it never was. She peeled the clothes from her body and climbed into the oldest, softest pajamas she could find. She fell quickly into a dead sleep. The buzzing of her phone woke her hours later. It was Joshua calling, checking in. She felt annoyed that he woke her, then muzzled the feeling. He was being thoughtful. She was still too tired to control her emotions. Feel the proper feelings. She thanked him for his concern. Made a joke about the office. Said she needed some more sleep. They hung up, and that’s when she saw it. An e-mail from Tom labeled You.
She opened it.
You look adorable in the morning.
There was no more sleeping after that.
Kate wished she’d had more time in the bathroom to think out how to explain herself. She’d come to Cecily on instinct, unable to face her own house. Her own life. She’d had plenty of time, though. She could’ve worked this out on the bus ride. Instead, she’d stared out the window, her heart leaping around like a frog caught on a road. But she’d run out of road, and here she was. She felt as if the Kate persona she’d been living the last year had washed away, sliding down the drain of the sink she was standing at. She looked at herself in the mirror. She even looked like Kaitlyn again. She might as well accept it.
“How much do you want to know?” she said to Cecily when they were back in the living room. She wished she could ask Cecily for a drink. Something she’d avoided since her near blackout with the bottles of red wine in her hotel room that first week in Montreal. But there wasn’t anything that could blunt this task. She had to face it head-on. Sober.
“About you and Tom? All of it. The minimum.”
“I can’t do both.”
“I know. You know what? I wish I didn’t know any of it.”
“I wish there wasn’t anything to know.”
Cecily pulled one of the couch cushions into her lap. She wrapped her arms around it. “Do you mean that? How can you?”
The tone of Cecily’s voice was a blow. Back when she’d been two things—Tom’s and Cecily’s—she’d built up some defenses. She’d had to. But they were all washed away now. By time. Knowledge. The pain in Cecily’s voice.
“You have no reason to believe anything I’m saying,” Kaitlyn said. “But I came to you. I was free and clear. I didn’t need to come back. Does that count for something?”
“Maybe. Maybe it counts for a little.”
“So what do you want to know?”
“I’m not ready to hear about the Tom stuff. Not now.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you here? What’s the big plan?”
This Kaitlyn had given some thought to in the hours after she’d read that article about Franny in Vanity Fair. Had learned that she’d wormed her way into her family and was about to take her place. In those moments, she knew exactly what to do. Get to her family. Stop Franny.
“We need to find a way to let Joshua know Franny isn’t who she says she is.”
“Why do you care?”
“Seriously? How can you ask me that?”
“You ran out on him. You ran out on your kids.”
Kaitlyn felt ashamed, but not as much as she ought to. This wasn’t new information, after all. She’d been living with it for a long time. “I know what I did.”
“They think you died, Kaitlyn. They’ve had to deal with that. Added to that, now there’s Franny in the mix. And you’re not dead. How are they going to process all of this?”
“You can’t tell them I’m alive.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“They don’t have to know. There must be a way. Please.”
“What? I have to keep your secrets now? That’s the big plan?”
“I don’t have a plan. None of this was planned.”
“I feel like we’re going around in circles.”
“We have to stop Franny. That’s why I’m here. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t stand the pained expression on Cecily’s face any longer. She broke eye contact and tried to focus on something else. The pictures on the mantel, the four of them together. Looking like the perfect family they weren’t anymore. Because of her. Because of Tom. She should’ve deleted that first e-mail from him. She should’ve shut down any attempt to follow through. But instead she wrote back: You don’t look so bad yourself.
And sealed her fate. Cecily’s, too.
“How are we supposed to do that if you’re not going to come forward?” Cecily asked. “I mean, why would anyone believe me? I haven’t got any evidence.”
“We’ll have to get some, then. Investigate her. Look into her past. I’ve been reading a lot online, and I don’t think anyone’s done that yet.”
A spark of hope crossed Cecily’s face for the first time. “I might know someone who can help us with that.”
Interview Transcript
TJ: That’s your real name, isn’t it, Franny? Eileen. Eileen Warner.
FM: So what if it is?
TJ: Well, I’m interested in why you might have changed it, for one.
FM: Haven’t you ever wanted to change something in your life? You know, start over, start fresh?
TJ: I’m sure it’s a common feeling. But most people don’t act on it.
FM: Well, I’m not most people.
TJ: Are you referring to something specific?
FM: What did she say?
TJ: Who?
FM: Her. Sherrie. What else did she say when you spoke to her?
TJ: She mentioned you’d been in some trouble.
FM: Typical. Tell me something, is this how the rest of this interview’s going to go?
TJ: How do you mean?
FM: Are you going to pull out pieces of information one by one and spring them on me? Do you think I’m going to sit through that?
TJ: You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
FM: That is such a joke.