Chapter 16

16

Poppy is waiting for me by my front door when I get home from the cemetery, ready to hear the entire sordid tale. Fortunately, she doesn't have a casserole with her.

"What did that woman tell you?" she asks as I unlock my front door.

"I think she's telling the truth. The children… They looked a lot like Grant. And there were photos of the family everywhere."

I don't mention how many kids there were. I still can't quite get over it. The blue-and-black dresses were bad enough, but the eight children I didn't know about are the icing on the cake.

"What a horrible experience," Poppy murmurs. "Can I get you something? How about some tea?"

I just shake my head.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I… I think I should give her some of the inheritance." I place a hand on my abdomen, knowing that I must save some of the money for the child growing inside me as well. "I'll ask for DNA tests, of course. But if they really are Grant's children, they deserve part of the money."

"I just can't believe it." She shakes her head. "Grant seemed like such a wonderful man. He was so kind and honest and handsome. How could he have been leading a double life?"

You have no idea, Poppy.

"Actually," I find myself saying, "he wasn't as kind and honest as you thought."

She laughs like I made a joke. "What are you talking about? You and Grant were the perfect couple."

"No." I drop my eyes. "We weren't. Our perfect marriage… It was all a lie."

She notices the expression on my face, and the smile slides off her lips. "What do you mean, Alice?"

It's like turning on a faucet, and I can't get it to stop. Before I know it, I have told her everything. About the blue-and-black dress. About… well, that's pretty much all of it. But my God, he was such a jerk about that dress.

Poppy listens to the entire story, her face growing paler. Tears spring to her eyes as I describe the state of my closet.

"You poor thing." She reaches out to clasp my hand. Hers is warm and comforting. "Alice, I had no idea. I wish you had told me. I would have…"

"I couldn't take a chance." I wipe a tear from my own eyes. "What if you thought the dress was blue and black too?"

"Never!" Poppy cries. "That dress was white and gold! Anyone who thought otherwise definitely had defective rods or cones or whatever."

Hearing those words is enough to make me burst into tears. Poppy wraps her arms around me, and we remain in an embrace for several minutes, both of us sobbing our eyes out. I wish I had trusted her enough to come to her sooner. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have had to kill Grant.

"You know what we really need?" Poppy finally pulls away from me, rubbing her pink nose. "A stiff drink! Let me make us a couple of vodka and tonics."

"You can't," I say miserably. "Because… I'm pregnant."

Poppy gasps. "Alice, I had no idea. You don't look it at all, honestly! How far along are you? Seven months? Eight months?"

I glare at her. " Six weeks ."

"Oh." She looks down at my midsection and blinks in surprise. "That's it? Well… okay. If you say so."

"I took precautions to keep it from happening." I let out a wretched sob. "I put LED lights in every closet, but I still got pregnant. I don't understand it."

She cocks her head to the side. "LED lights?"

I nod. "I read online that if you have LEDs placed, they are over ninety-eight percent effective in preventing pregnancy."

Poppy stares at me for several beats, a confused look on her face. "Do you mean… IUDs?"

"What's an IUD?"

"An intrauterine device. A doctor inserts it into your uterus, and it is used to prevent pregnancy."

Wow, that makes so much more sense than the lights. Stupid Google search.

"What am I going to do, Poppy?" I wail. "My husband was a monster. Now he's dead, and I've got his child growing inside me. And not only that…" I glance nervously at the window, where I half expect to see Grant's face peering out at me. "I'm seeing him everywhere I go."

"Alice." She squeezes my hand in hers. "You're not seeing Grant. Grant is dead, sweetie. This is simply all the stress catching up with you."

I nod, reluctantly accepting that this might be true. I want so badly for it to be true. I need this nightmare to be over.

After Poppy leaves, I try to relax. I decide to go upstairs to take a shower, hoping the scalding-hot water will ease some of my tension. When I get in, I turn the heat up as high as it will go. I still feel tense, so I turn it in the other direction, as cold as it will go.

Just as I'm emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my chest, the doorbell rings downstairs. God, I hope it's not Poppy with another casserole. I peek out the bedroom window at the driveway, and my heart does a somersault when I see what is waiting downstairs.

It's a police car.