Chapter 6

"Is this Martha?"

"It is. Hi, Lily. Long time." Martha could tell that her voice was shaky. She was in her office at the library and got up to close her door.

"It is a long time. But it's nice to hear your voice," Lily said, and Martha felt that she was being genuine.

"It's nice to hear yours, too. You're back living with your parents?"

"I am. It's a long story, but the short version of it is that they got divorced but my father can't be alone, and my mother doesn't have enough money to support herself, so they need to live together. I'm there to keep them from killing one another."

"Sounds like a lot," Martha said, settling into the conversation, realizing that she'd missed Lily over the years.

"It's not too bad," Lily said.

"Are you working?"

"Do you know Winslow College in Massachusetts? I got a job there about a year after we both finished school. It was good, but I left a couple of years ago to come back here, and now I am mostly unemployed, although I'm busy working on my father's archives."

"Oh, how's that?" Martha said, happy to keep the focus on Lily for a while.

"He keeps threatening to burn them in the fireplace, but he's all bark and no bite. He kept everything, including some pretty scandalous journals. How about you? Working?"

"I'm the director of a public library in Kittery right now. Before that I was doing archival work at Boston University, but I don't mind being back in a classic library setting."

"No, of course not."

Martha didn't say anything right away. Part of her just wanted to keep talking about what they'd been doing since they'd known each other all those years earlier, but she also wanted to get to the point. Finally, she said, "So, I called you for a reason."

"Okay," Lily said. "I'm listening." The way she said it made Martha feel as though they were hanging out in her dormitory room in Maryland all over again.

"So, I got married."

"Oh yeah? When was this?"

"A little over a year ago. Alan is slightly older than me. He sells educational materials, so he's always traveling." Martha didn't really want to go into what he sold just yet because people always had a lot of questions.

"And has he broken your love curse?"

"Oh, you remember that?"

"Of course I do. In fact, I was pretty sure you were calling about something to do with Ethan Saltz."

"Ugh, that name. Just hearing it makes me shiver."

"You haven't heard from him?"

"No, thank God. I'm calling about my husband. I think I just need to tell someone what's going on with him."

"Is he hurting you?"

"No, no. Not at all. He's this totally sweet guy, at least I think he is. Hey, I wasn't going to ask this, but now that we're having this conversation... Do you think... Is there any possibility we could meet up and do this face-to-face?"

"Sure," Lily said. "You live in Maine?"

"I live in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, but I work in Maine. I could come to you, though. Alan's away on one of his trips. I'm at work, but we are well staffed and I could leave anytime." Suddenly, more than anything, Martha wanted to actually see Lily. She didn't want to have this conversation over the phone.

"I'm happy to meet halfway. I wouldn't mind taking a drive today."

Martha brought up a map on her desktop computer and they decided to meet for an early dinner in Worcester, Massachusetts. She picked an Irish pub called Tipsy McStaggers because it was located right off the interstate, and they agreed to meet at four in the afternoon.

After hanging up Martha felt so relieved that she burst into sudden unexpected tears. She hadn't known what to expect from the phone call, and part of her had wondered if Lily even remembered her. The fact that she had, and that she'd even remembered the love curse, was somehow a huge relief. And now they were going to meet in person and Martha could tell Lily what she suspected, and hopefully Lily would laugh the whole thing off, talk her down off the ledge. And that would be the end of that.

After the crying jag, Martha sat for a moment and composed herself. She sent a quick email to her staff saying that she would be leaving early that day, then tried to get some emails done that she'd been avoiding. Mary, the oldest librarian on staff, popped her head into Martha's office to ask a question, and then, after Martha had answered it, said, "Hon, are you okay?"

Martha reflexively swiped at an eye and said, "Yes, fine." When Mary didn't immediately leave the room, she added, "I just talked to a friend who's going through a very rough time in her marriage. That's why I'm leaving early, to go and meet her."

"Oh, that's too bad," Mary said, and frowned.

After Mary left the office, apparently satisfied with the half-truth, Martha decided it was time to leave. She stopped off at home to get her notebook, and decided to change. What was the right thing to wear when you were meeting an old friend to talk to her about your suspicious husband? She finally selected her best jeans, the slightly worn ones, and a printed top that one of the younger librarians had once referred to as "boho."

Tipsy McStaggers was an enormous restaurant on an acre of parking lot, its front paneled in green-painted wood and festooned with flags and strung lights and Guinness signs. It was bright outside in the parking lot, and Martha's eyes took a moment to adjust as she stepped into the dark interior of the restaurant. It was like a Walt Disney version of an Irish pub, every nook and cranny plastered with a shamrock or a leprechaun or another Guinness ad. A hostess ambled over and asked if it was just her.

"I'm meeting someone but I'm early."

"You can sit wherever you want."

She wandered into the confusing restaurant, passing two alcoves that each had a small bar and seating area, then went up two steps to what seemed to her to be the main bar area. She climbed onto a padded stool, ordered a Guinness from the college-age bartender, and waited. From where she was, she could look back toward the front entrance of the restaurant, and she found herself alternating between tiny sips of her drink and glances at the door. Earlier in the day she'd been so relieved about this meeting, but now that it was about to happen, she felt both nervous and slightly embarrassed. Had she really just asked someone she hardly knew to drive two hours to hear a wild theory?

She finished her beer and asked for a water. It was close to four and a few single drinkers had come into the restaurant, plus one group of college boys, two of whom wore Holy Cross sweatshirts. Her phone vibrated; it was Alan, calling again from North Carolina. She rejected the call and sent a Can I call you later? message. He responded with a thumbs-up emoji.

She turned to look at the entrance again and found herself looking at Lily, standing two feet away. Martha had wondered if she'd changed, but she hadn't. Long red hair, pale skin, those intense green eyes. They hugged, and for a moment Martha thought she might cry again, but she controlled herself.

"Let's grab a table, or a booth," Martha said.

"Okay," Lily said, and they signaled a passing waitress to indicate they were moving to a booth in one of the alcoves. They sat across from each other.

"You look the same," Martha said.

"Do I? I don't feel the same. You look different."

Martha laughed. She remembered this about Lily, that she didn't say the things that everyone was supposed to say in social situations. "In what way?"

"You look more confident, like you've reached the age you were born to be."

"Ha. You're probably right, although I'm not feeling particularly confident."

A waitress showed up and Martha ordered another Guinness while Lily asked for the same. After she left with their order, Lily said, "So what is going on with your husband?"

Before going into the bloodstain and the time she spied on him in the driveway and the deaths she'd found online, Martha found herself just talking about Alan, about their courtship and his job, and what he was like. She even told Lily how, although they'd gotten married, she still felt as though she didn't know him at all. That he was a stranger to her. Lily was nodding.

"Do you know what I mean?"

"Do I know what you mean when you say someone's a stranger to you?"

"Not just someone. Sometimes I think everyone is a stranger to me, that I'm doomed to never really understand another living soul."

Lily took a sip of her beer, her eyes on the low ceiling. "I'd say that's a pretty universal emotion. People who think they know everything about someone are probably deceiving themselves."

Martha nodded. Lily said, "So what is it that you think your husband is doing behind your back? Do you think he's cheating on you?"

"No, it's not that." Martha took a breath. "I think he might be a whole lot worse."