Chapter 32

After feeding Isa and putting her down in her crib, Marley returns to our bedroom. Ned, who got ready in record time for the black-tie event, is in his office working. I’m still in bed.

“Are you sure about this?” asks Marley. There’s a slight edge to her voice, the first time I’ve seen her confidence waver.

“Totally. This is an important night, and Ned needs someone by his side. It would look bad if a seat at his table was empty. Especially the one next to him.”

“You’re a good wife, Ava. Better than Ned deserves.”

I say nothing. Little does she know.

I glance down at my swollen belly. “And even if I were up for it, I have nothing that fits me. Nothing to wear…”

Marley’s face falls. “I have nothing to wear either. In my profession, I don’t go to black-tie affairs. Or own ball gowns.”

I want to laugh but bite down on my lip. “No worries. You and I are about the same size.” At least what I used to be. “You can borrow one of my designer gowns. Ned bought me a slew of them while we were engaged to impress his clients and the paparazzi. To make an ‘it couple’ statement.”

“What was that like?”

“Honestly, I hated it. I don’t like being in the limelight. And I much prefer shopping at Ross Dress for Less than Neiman Marcus…or should I say Needless Markup.”

She lets out a laugh.

“It will mean so much to Ned that you’re accompanying him tonight. And who knows, you may meet people who can help you with your movie.”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, Ava, yes, you’re right!”

I silently snicker as she enters my closet. I can’t stop thinking about how Ned stood there dumbfounded, contemplating whether he should take Marley to the gala as he picked at imaginary lint on his suit. I swear if his life depended on every piece he found, he’d be in the poorhouse.

Or in his grave.

Twenty minutes later, Nurse Marley looks like a princess. Hollywood royalty. She’s poured into the iridescent lavender-gray Versace I wore when Ned announced our engagement to his friends and the press on the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria. The night I began to have regrets.

The body-hugging strapless gown shows off her toned, svelte body and brings out her exquisite amethyst eyes. Truth is, she looks better in this gown than I ever did. The bodice was always too tight on me, and I never filled out the top. Her platinum hair is tied back in an elegant chignon, her makeup heavier than usual—mascara, eyeliner, sparkly eyeshadow, and bright-red lipstick that accentuates her sensual full lips. The only piece of jewelry she’s wearing is that rosary-bead necklace with the silver locket. It brings attention to her cleavage and swan-like neck.

“You look incredible,” I say, breathing out my words. “The only thing you’re missing is a tiara.”

She lifts up her dress. She’s barefooted. “The only thing I’m missing is a pair of shoes.”

“What size do you wear?”

“A nine.”

“Perfect. The same as me. All my dressy shoes—and matching bags—are on a shelf in the back of my closet. Find some you like.”

A minute later, she returns wearing a pair of strappy metallic-silver heels and holding a small rhinestone-studded clutch. They tie in nicely with her sparkly silver necklace.

“Take a look at yourself.”

She pivots and gazes at herself in the full-length armoire mirror. Blinking, she looks more uncertain than in awe. A look of sadness sweeps over her, and I remember she had a difficult childhood. Losing her mother at an early age. Maybe, like me, she never had a mother who made her feel like a Disney princess.

“Wow. I look like a movie star.” Her voice is wistful, her eyes tearful. Like she’s looking at some make-believe alternate version of herself. A Cinderella who will turn back into her old self at midnight.

“Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

She turns to face me. “Are you still sure you want me to go with Ned?”

“Absolutely. He needs you there by his side tonight.”

“Will you be okay for dinner?”

I give a light laugh. “I know how to make pasta.”

“There’s also some fresh wild-caught salmon in the fridge. And some organic mixed greens.”

“Thanks, I’ll be fine. C’mon, let’s not keep Ned waiting.”

We head to the living room where Ned is awaiting us. Shimmering in his black- tie attire.

At the sight of Princess Marley, a wow spills from his lips. His eyes are practically popping out of their sockets.

Mentally, I poke them back in with my fingers. Hoping it hurts.

When they depart, I instantly feel much better, and very proud of myself for wrangling myself out of the gala. I faked my malaise and could have easily found something to wear online, even a deconstructed Yohji Yamamoto gown that would have wowed the Japanese. But I simply didn’t want to go. After setting up the baby monitor in the living room, I mosey to the kitchen and rifle through the mail that Nurse Marley brought in. Still no birth certificate. It must have gotten lost. I’ll deal with it in the morning.

Instead, I pick up my favorite magazine, Elle Décor, and as I do, a letter falls out of it onto the floor. The birth certificate? I bend down to pick it up. It’s a white, business-size envelope addressed to Marley from some place called Serenity in Fresno with a P.O. Box address. Barely sealed, I can’t help opening it. Inside is a folded piece of lined paper. A handwritten letter. I unfold it.

My darling Em,

Be careful. Stay true to the plan. The script.

I will see you soon.

May God be with you.

With all my love,

M

I stare at the letter. It’s written in jet-black block letters, except for the letter “M” at the end, which is bold and angular, making it hard to tell if it’s a man’s handwriting or a woman’s. Fresno, I recall, is where Marley’s from. Does she have a friend or relative who lives there? A writing partner? A boyfriend? And why is she addressed as “Em”? Is her real name Emily or Emma? And what plan is he or she referring to?

I’ve always suspected that our closed-off nanny is hiding a secret. Was I right? Is she not who she says she is?

There is something ominous about the letter. Something that makes me shiver. Carefully, I fold up the piece of paper and return it to the envelope, sealing it with some Scotch tape that I find in a drawer beneath the counter.

Maybe I should investigate her further? Though not tonight.

Taking my magazine with me, I retreat to the living room and curl up on the leather couch. I start flipping through it, but I’m still chilled from the mysterious letter. Using the remote, I turn on the gas fireplace. The fake logs glow and give off some warmth. I’m about to turn a page when an intrusive voice interrupts my blissful evening.

“Ava, put that magazine down and look at me.”

My mother.