“That’s why you stayed with Calvin even though you had all that money,” Violet said, taking it in and, Polly hoped, learning a thing or two.
“Yes,” Polly said. “I thought he made me better, more valid somehow.” She thought about it. “Well, I used to think that. When I got the call from your dad, I’d been thinking about leaving Calvin, was figuring out my next move.” She winked at Violet. “Then you came along and gave me just that.”
Violet grinned. “So you’re Lois?” she asked.
Polly raised her eyebrows. “Actually, I’m not. I have no idea who Lois is. That was by Norah’s design. She wanted anyone associated with her to have no further knowledge of the operation. Then if we were ever questioned, we’d have plausible deniability. So whoever Lois is, she got off, and she’s somewhere living her life, I guess. Which was the way your mom wanted it.”
“So you and my mom have been in touch all this time?” There was a note of accusation, and hurt, in her voice.
Polly shook her head. “No. That was also part of what Norah called ‘the beauty of it.’ Since we were estranged, I was the last person anyone would suspect. It was hard, knowing it meant we weren’t going to reconcile, but I was glad just to be in her life to whatever extent. I was always hopeful that one day it would lead to more.”
“And now it has,” Violet said.
“Now it has,” Polly said, and squeezed Violet’s hand. In the kitchen their guests laughed, reminding them of their hosting duties.
“Why don’t you go rescue Micah from making awkward small talk, and I’ll be right there. Just going to make sure I locked the front door.” Violet threw her arms around Polly for a quick hug, then darted away, leaving Polly to stand there stunned, and thrilled, for just a moment.
In the kitchen she heard Violet greet Micah and Bess. She heard Casey’s voice and realized that must’ve been who had come in the back door. They were all there. They were all OK. She exhaled and walked back to check the front door. She was headed back to the kitchen to deliver the good news about Norah to everyone else when she heard Casey pose a question, “So are we doing a scary face or a funny face on this pumpkin?”
“Scary,” said Micah.
“Funny,” said Casey, Bess, and Violet in unison.
“Hey,” she heard Micah concede. “That’s three to one. The ladies win.”
Indeed, Polly thought, they do.
Bess
Two Years Later
Bess took off the headset and put it on the desk. She reached up and finger-combed her hair, resisting the urge to put it into a ponytail like she often did. She still needed to get used to her long hair. Her girls loved it and begged her not to cut it back into the pixie style she’d had for all those years.
“It’s a new you,” Casey always told her.
Bess agreed that it was. She was still getting used to the new her. She gripped the extended hand of Bill Parsons, creator and host of the Nosy Neighbor podcast, grateful the recording was over. She’d gotten through unscathed, which had been her goal. Bill and his producers had hounded her to do the podcast until she finally had given in, with the stipulation that he not bring up the shooting, which had nothing to do with Norah’s case and wasn’t something she relished discussing. It was in the past, and Bess preferred to leave it there.
“Were you pleased,” Bill asked, “with how I handled everything?”
“Yes, thank you,” Bess said. “It was tasteful. I appreciate the chance to tell the real story. There were too many rumors flying around. Rumors that implicated people I care about—people who were innocent. It was important to us to set the record straight.”
“Us?” Bill’s eyebrows flew up toward his hairline.
“I mean to those of us who were involved. Neighbors and such.”
He smirked but didn’t press for clarification. “Glad we could do our part. I don’t know how far-reaching the podcast will be, but hopefully it will help.”
“Three million downloads is a good start,” she said.
“You did your research,” he said, preening a bit at her mention of his record.
“Why else did you think I agreed to do this?” She smiled to soften her words.
He smiled back, unfazed. He shifted on his feet, glanced toward the door, and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help but notice while we were recording that you weren’t wearing a ring, and I wondered . . . if maybe . . . you’d be interested in grabbing lunch with me.” He made a point of looking at his watch, as if his offer were an afterthought. “I mean, it’s lunchtime.”
Bess smiled sweetly. She was slowly getting used to being asked out. It didn’t happen all the time, but it happened enough. “I’ve actually got someone picking me up. I have to be somewhere.”
He looked crestfallen but recovered quickly, resting his hand on her bad shoulder. It still hurt from time to time, but nothing a little ibuprofen wouldn’t take care of.
“Well, the offer’s open. You know how to get in touch with me if you ever change your mind.”
Bess nodded. “I certainly do.” In her head she could hear Nicole’s voice saying, As if. She’d starred as Cher in a production of Clueless for her senior play, and, for better or worse, the phrase had become part of the whole family’s lexicon. “Well,” she said, “I better go. My ride is waiting.”
She made her exit before he could ask her anything else, hurrying out of the studio and down the sidewalk to the parking lot. She made a visor out of her hand and scanned the lot for the car, an older-model blue Ford Explorer. She spotted it and hurried over, tugging the door open and jumping inside with a relieved sigh.
“You survived,” Norah said.
“I survived,” Bess replied, and smiled at her best friend.
“No surprises? He didn’t spring anything on you that you didn’t expect?”
“Nope,” she said. “It went exactly as we discussed in the preproduction meeting.”
Norah backed the car out of the parking spot but kept talking as she drove. “Was he a complete blowhard? He seems like he’s impressed with himself.”
“Just another guy with a superhero complex, thinking he’s saving the world in his own special way.”
“A captain of industry,” Norah said.
“Leaping tall buildings in a single bound.” Bess gave her customary response.
“Looking for a Pepper to his Iron Man,” Norah said.
“Looking for a Lois to his Superman,” Bess replied, and they smiled at each other at the stoplight.
Norah launched into one of her diatribes on the male species again, but Bess tuned her out. She was only repeating the things they’d said on that night long ago, when it had all begun, the night Norah had confessed to Bess how she’d found a “growth opportunity,” as she’d called it, one that could make them both financially secure. “You could leave Steve,” she’d said. It had been one of those nights where the wine was flowing liberally. They’d both been drunk.
“Leave Steve,” Bess had repeated. And the rhyme had seemed hilarious. Though her life with Steve had been far from funny. At the time, leaving him had seemed impossible. She had no way of supporting herself. Her daughters were still young. How would she work and care for them, too? She admired Norah, but she didn’t think she could be like her.