You Deserve to Know

Chapter 20

20

NOW

Aimee sticks the shovel into the ground and gives it a satisfying thrust before lifting out another clump of dirt. More like clay, the kind used to make ceramics. The Washington area is notorious for it. Thick, water-logged, and heavy—only certain plants could thrive in this soil unless it was amended. But she’s planting one of those clay busters now, a false indigo that will grow four feet tall and just as wide. In the spring and summer, it will explode in loads of tiny purple flowers that attract bees. And the leaves will provide food for several types of butterflies, from wild indigo Duskywings to silver-spotted skippers.

Aimee stops and wipes her brow, sure she’s streaking dirt across her forehead. Manual labor usually distracts her, but it isn’t cutting it today. Her mind is muddled. She’s consumed with thoughts about friendship and all the people whose lives intersected with her own over the years. Her best friend from childhood would be a complete stranger if it weren’t for Facebook and Instagram and the yearly exchange of holiday cards. Others have come and gone, too. Friends she really liked, even loved at the time, and swore she would always stay in touch with. They were merely in the right place at the right time.

She thinks of the other moms in the neighborhood like work colleagues. Together, they are all in the business of raising kids and sending them to the local public school. And just like at any job, there are bound to be people you get along with more than others, but you try to be cordial to everyone to make the workplace pleasant.

But she considers Lisa and Gwen real friends. Their bonds are based on mutual affection, not just shared school schedules. So why is she feeling this barrier between Gwen and herself? Yesterday at the house, there was that moment when Gwen seemed to imply that Scott was involved in Anton’s death. It was a flash of insight into Gwen’s psyche, and it occurred to Aimee that she really didn’t know the woman who lived next door to her that well at all. After all, she didn’t know that Anton had been a cheater. What else didn’t she know about her neighbors?

“You ready?” Tim asks, lugging over the large false indigo.

Together they set it into the hole.

“One down, two to go.”

She’s eating lunch in her truck when her phone alerts her that thanks to flooding in the cafeteria, school is letting out early. Aimee drives over to pick everyone up. Benji and Max run out, yelling about how they want to go to a friend’s house. The other boy’s mother, a woman named Janet that Aimee has spoken to a handful of times, stands on the sidewalk and waves. Aimee waves back, sending them on their way. But when she turns back, she sees Michelle J. marching over in her signature OBX baseball cap, her long hair trailing down her back in a scraggly ponytail.

“Hi, Aimee. I hope you don’t think this is forward, but we need to talk. I mean, I am just so devastated about what has happened to Anton.” She leans against the passenger side of Aimee’s truck and peers through the open window.

“Yes, it is terrible.” Aimee doesn’t want to get caught up in a conversation with Michelle J., whose mood swings are legendary. She once made their beloved mailman, Kenny, cry because he had misdelivered a package from Garnet Hill. Aimee spots Noa amid the crowd, a solitary figure weighed down by an immense backpack, and waves her over.

“Do the police think it was random?” Michelle J. cocks her head to one side. “I’m only asking because I run by Villain her nails were always a disaster. She always felt a little too unkempt for the working-mom crowd and too harried and career-oriented for the stay-at-home moms. Until she met Lisa, that is. They clicked right away.

Aimee takes one last look at the scene of parents and kids as she drives away. She doesn’t see Gwen anywhere, or George or Rafi, and wonders if they went to school today.

“Hey, sweetie. It looks like it’s you and me, kid, and you’re in luck. Guess where I’m headed to drop off a proposal?”

Noa looks up, a smile spreading across her face. “Cathy’s?”

“You got it. I can’t stay long, but at least you can have a quick visit with the kittens.”

Noa beams, and Aimee is glad to be able to deliver some good news. Fourth grade has been tough so far. This is a cusp year , the teacher said during the parent conference. We don’t hold their hands in fourth grade. They need to start taking more responsibility. The way these kittens have brightened up Noa’s days has her reconsidering her ban on a family pet. Maybe a hamster.

When they arrive at Cathy’s, Noa dashes out of the car and through the front door. Aimee grabs the manila envelope containing the preliminary sketches and plans she has come up with for Cathy’s front yard, and heads to the house.

“You can look at these whenever you get a chance and let me know what you think,” Aimee says, handing Cathy the envelope at the door. “I can put you on the schedule for mid-October, which is great for transplanting shrubs.”

“Thanks, I look forward to seeing what you’ve come up with.” Cathy adjusts her big glasses that give her an owlish look. “How is your friend doing?”

“As good as can be expected, I guess. In fact, I should probably head back there now. Let’s see if I can pry Noa away from those kittens.”

“She’s welcome to stay for the afternoon. I’m just sitting in the kitchen paying bills. She’s no bother when she’s here.”

Aimee hesitates, but Cathy seems genuine. Besides, Noa is always calmer and in a better mood after spending time here. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Cathy says, laughing. “I miss having a classroom full of little people. It’s nice having someone else in this big ol’ house.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then either I or Scott will come by in a couple of hours.”

Aimee comes home to an empty house, a rarity. She takes a shower, washing off the day’s sweat and grime, and changes into clean sweats. Downstairs, she makes a cup of tea and decides to follow Cathy’s lead and pay the bills. She grabs the mail she stuck in her bag a few days earlier and places the stack beside her open laptop on the kitchen island. She’s halfway through the stack when she finds a letter from the financial institution where they keep their investments and IRAs. Since both she and Scott are self-employed, they have no work 401(k)s and are entirely responsible for saving for their own retirements. They have set it up so that the money comes out of their checking accounts automatically. Once they’ve maxed out their yearly IRA contributions, they send money into several mutual funds.

The letter is one sheet of paper, a confirmation for the withdrawal of fifty thousand dollars. At first, Aimee thinks this is the same fifty thousand dollars that Scott mentioned withdrawing earlier. But after double-checking the accounts on her computer, she realizes there have been two fifty-thousand-dollar withdrawals—one from their home mortgage equity account, and one from their mutual funds. One hundred thousand dollars in total, gone.

She feels her stomach lurch. The numbers on the computer screen grow blurry and unreadable. One hundred thousand dollars. Aimee stands up, shaken. She paces the kitchen, trying to understand what he could have done with so much money.

Neither she nor Scott had rich parents. She went in state to Towson University and worked summers and during the school year to pay the tuition. Same for Scott. They had saved while renting all through their twenties and early thirties, skipping vacations and not eating out.

East Bethesda seemed out of their budget when house shopping, but they had both fallen in love with the house and the quiet block. The school district was great, and it was close to both Scott’s work and to Aimee’s client base. It was a financial stretch, but they were confident that they would continue to earn more money in their careers, and so far they’d been right. Aimee had broken six figures with her landscaping company last year, and Scott was doing even better than that.

But she was still money conscious. She still clipped coupons and preferred to pay cash for big purchases like her truck. It was second nature to her. They might have money now, but there was no family fortune to fall back on if things went south.

Sometimes it was a sore point with Gwen and Lisa. They seemed to be under the impression that she could afford the little luxuries—like spa days—that they enjoyed. Gwen didn’t exactly advertise that her parents subsidized her and Anton’s life but once when Gwen was drunk, she let slip that her parents provided ten thousand dollars a month. As for Lisa and Marcus, he was making close to a million dollars a year as a partner at his lobbying firm.

With trembling hands, Aimee grabs her phone and dials Scott’s number.

“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?”

“Scott, did you take fifty thousand dollars out of our retirement account?” There’s no response, but she can hear street noise in the background, so she knows he is still there. “Scott, you need to answer me.”

“How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?” She is practically shouting. “What kind of response is that? Who cares how I found out?”

“Please, calm down. I can explain everything.”

“Great. I’m listening.”

“Now? I’m outside a Starbucks in Reston. Can we talk tonight?”

“You need to tell me something, Scott. I’m losing it here. What did you do with one hundred thousand dollars?”

“I made a bad financial decision, Aimee.”

His words hit her like a blow to the chest. “What does that mean?” she whispers.

“I was scammed.”

Aimee struggles to slow her breath and calm down. “Maybe there’s a way to get the money back. Have you gone to the police?”

“No. That’s why I hired Block. He’s going to help me. That’s why I was meeting him Saturday night. And Sunday. I was going to come to you once I had all the information I needed.”

“I don’t understand. Why hire him and not go to the police?”

“That’s a good question, and I can’t really answer it right now. But I’ll answer everything tonight. I promise. I’ll lay it all out for you. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

He hangs up and Aimee stares at the phone. Her whole body is shaking. Trust him? Scott has been keeping secrets, ones that affect her and the kids. Last week she trusted him implicitly, but now she doesn’t even know how she’s going to get through the rest of the day.

Scott, what have you done?