CHAPTER 17 - Molly

CHAPTER 17MollyWEN I GET HOME, THE SECURITY GUY IS PULLING AWAY FROM THE curb. Corrine is in the kitchen, laptop open, cycling through screens.“How’d it go?” she asks without looking up.“Okay. They showed me video they got from the Fergusons’ security camera. It shows a guy walking past their house headed in our direction Saturday night. They wanted to know if he was the same man I saw last night.”“Was it?”“Might’ve been. It happened so fast.”“Well, look.” She tips her computer toward me, and I see my backyard in black and white, startlingly clear. Corrine clicks through screens, and I see the office, with its yellow tape a sickly gray, one piece fluttering in the wind. Then she switches to the backyard, fence and trees, the side yard, the driveway, and finally the front porch and street view. She clicks more keys, and all shots shrink into tiny rectangles and fill the screen.“You can see everything at once,” Corrine says. “Or one shot, or a couple at a time. She stands, runs a hand through her hair. “Same for inside. Wherever you have your phone or computer, you can see both inside and outside.”“Wow.”“Secure as Fort Knox.”“Will they bill me monthly? How does that work?”She blows out a breath. “Rich and I are paying for it.”“I can’t let you do that.”“Not an option. It’s done.” She picks up her Coach purse and swings the strap over her shoulder.I appreciate her generosity but feel unsettled. This is just another thing she thinks I can’t do for myself.“Look, Molly. It’s no big deal for us, okay? We want to help.”This I know. They both earn big salaries, and Rich has family money besides.“How are you set financially?” Corrine asks. “Mom and Dad are worried, and I told them I’d talk to you.”“I’m fine. You guys don’t need to be concerned about me.”“Now that Jay’s income is gone . . . did he have life insurance? Savings?”“Yes, of course.” Though I’m not sure how much. I wasn’t worried about making ends meet before. I turn and walk to the back door, where I can see the office.“You could sell the mountain house,” Corrine says. “You don’t use it that much anyway.”The mountain house in New Hampshire. Jay inherited the property from his mother. It was all she had to leave him. It had been in her family for years, originally built as a hunting lodge. Apparently, her great-grandfather had made money in shipping, but each succeeding generation had squandered a little more until they’d sold off everything except their vacation home in the mountains. It’s a beautiful place up a steep mountain road with majestic views, a couple of rivers and lakes nearby. We go up a few times a year and often invite friends.But I was never comfortable in the house. When Jay first took me there, animal heads were mounted on the walls in odd spots, catching you unawares with their glassy eyes. And then, of course, there was the basement.Jay loved the house though. I think it reminded him of his mother and the time they spent there together while his father hunted. She died so young that Jay didn’t have much time with her. He told me about the cocoa she used to make from scratch and the jigsaw puzzles they’d worked together up there. Memories of her, I think, made the mountain house a special place for him.To an outsider, the house looks imposing, sitting on its peak, lording over the trees and river, full of dark paneling and plaid wallpaper. I picture it as the kind of place where the gentry used to go to indulge in hunting and other vigorous winter sports to prove to themselves perhaps that they weren’t all fluff and money.So, for Jay’s sake, I tried to fit in, tried to enjoy our time there. We invited friends along whenever we could. We rarely went up there on our own, just the two of us. But even with Jay beside me, the house overwhelmed me. It felt sinister, alive with the blood spilled by men who took pleasure in the hunt and the kill.I sigh. “I can’t think about that now.” Dealing with real estate agents, contracts, and fussy buyers.“Well, it’s an option if you need cash.”“Yeah. I know, but I’ll be all right.” I walk Corrine to the door, where she gives me a quick hug and leaves.I sit at the table, flipping through screens like a stalker. In the backyard, a squirrel tiptoes past the bird feeder. It stops, listens, looks both ways before clambering up the bare maple tree to reach the goodies suspended in the feeder. I’m afraid it’ll be disappointed. I haven’t refilled it in a few days. I watch the squirrel, get lost in its world until the doorbell rings, and I’m pulled back to real life.I switch screens to see who’s there. This is kind of cool if I don’t think about why I need this technology. Hayes and Alice wait patiently on my porch. I close my laptop and answer the door.“Hi, guys. Come on in.” Hayes catches me in a hug, and Alice nudges him aside.“We brought you these, Molly.” She holds up a box tied with string. “Lemon poppy-seed muffins. I made them.”“Thanks, Alice.” I take the box and drape my arm around her shoulders.“How are you?” Hayes asks, unwrapping his scarf. He’s wearing a black turtleneck, his dark curly hair in disarray.“I’m okay.” I set the box on the table and collect their coats. Alice pulls off her red hat with its pom-pom on top and pats it onto the pile in my arms.We sit at the kitchen table with tea and Alice’s muffins. Her long fair hair is plaited in two braids that she’s wrapped around her head like a little Swiss girl. Her huge gray eyes are grave, as usual. She’s eleven going on forty-five, as Hayes likes to say.He takes my hand. “You’re really all right?”I nod. “As well as can be expected.”“Don’t worry about the store. You come back whenever you’re ready.”Alice frowns. “Sharon is more than happy to work your hours, Molly.”That makes me smile. Alice and Sharon have an uneasy, slightly adversarial relationship. Sharon, sixty-two years old and a self-proclaimed expert on all things child-rearing, thinks that Alice needs to get out of the bookstore, go to the mall with a gaggle of squealing preteens, and ogle boys. Alice finds the idea immature and beneath her.“Well, I was thinking of coming in on Friday, actually,” I say, although up until this moment I hadn’t decided on a definite return date. “I could use the distraction.” I get up from the table, retrieve my laptop, which I’d left on the foyer table.“Have the police found anything?” Hayes asks when I return.“Not yet, but they have video of a man walking toward the house Saturday night, and”—I swallow—“I saw a man in Jay’s office last night. He ran toward the street, and I called 911.”“Oh my God, Molly. You should’ve called me. I would’ve come right over.”“It’s okay. The cops came and stayed with me until morning. Then I went to the police station and gave them a statement.”“You must’ve been so scared!” Alice says. “What’s that?” She points to the images on my screen, which I’ve pulled up and am clicking through like a kid with a new toy.“My security system. Now I can see if anyone’s near the house. Inside too.”Hayes sighs. “That’s good.” He runs his hand through his hair, which only serves to dishevel it further.“It makes me feel better. But I’m thinking of getting a dog too.”“Yes,” Alice says. “A dog would be even better.”“Hayes.” I clear my throat. “The police showed me Jay’s calendar, and he had lunch with you noted last Thursday. What was that about?”He colors slightly, adjusts his dark-framed glasses. “Jay wanted to talk to me about your anniversary.”“Oh. Right. It’s coming up,” I say, and that thought has my heart sinking.Jay and I got married on Valentine’s Day. Kind of hokey, I know, but we decided quickly, didn’t want a big wedding that involved months of planning, so we decided to have our friends and family up to the mountain house for the ceremony and reception. I wasn’t crazy about getting married up there, but Jay’s townhouse and my apartment were definitely not going to work, and we didn’t want to go to the trouble of finding a venue at the last minute. Jay thought the mountain house was a great idea, and I was trying so hard to be like everyone else. A house, no matter its original purpose, shouldn’t faze the me I was trying to be, someone for whom old structures and dark basements held no power, so I readily agreed to the plan.“Why did he want to talk to you?” I ask, my voice hoarse.“He wanted to surprise you with a trip. He thought I might have some ideas.” Hayes is our most well-traveled friend. He and Alice have toured the world, bringing back all manner of souvenirs for me and Jay. Teacups from London. Woolen blankets from Ireland. His and hers kimonos from Japan.“Oh.” Tears start to collect in my eyes again. Jay and I liked to travel too, but we hadn’t had a chance to do as much of that as we would have liked. A week in Paris two years ago was the highlight of our travel thus far. I dab my eyes with a tissue, sip my tea.Hayes pats my hand. “We’re all here for you, Molly.”