Chapter 5 Maggie
Maggie loved the beach most in the late afternoon, when the sun softened and the wind carried just enough salt to make everything feel clean. The heat of the day eased. The sand cooled beneath her feet. The sky stretched wide and pale, and she could get perspective on her problems.
Which, since her conversation with Crista this morning, had been mounting.
Jo Ellen, on the other hand, appeared to be fueled entirely by the events of the last twenty-four hours.
“…and I’m just saying, if Connor hadn’t whipped that wheel at exactly the right moment, that truck would have T-boned him! He could be dead, Mags. Thank God for young reflexes. Also thank God he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol. I watch those things, you know. That boy was clean and sober.”
Maggie nodded absently, her gaze fixed on the thin line where sea met sky.
Jo Ellen continued, undeterred. “And Kate being back in Ithaca—honestly, I don’t know how she does it.
I mean, now that I’ve been here, washed by this sunshine, the thought of a winter there?
I know, I know, it’s July, but the cold comes fast. I’d just lie down on the sidewalk and let nature take me.
Now, I’m close with Kate, but not enough for her to tell me if there was another reason for her leaving so quickly. Like…you know.”
“Mmm,” Maggie murmured.
“Or do you know?”
Maggie shot her a look. “What are you talking about, Jo?”
“Well, everything but what’s really on your mind, I suppose.”
“Nothing’s on my mind,” Maggie lied.
Jo Ellen not-so-secretly rolled her eyes, but didn’t press.
Instead, they walked in rhythm along the wet sand, their bare feet sinking and lifting with each step. Gulls cried overhead. A pelican skimmed the water’s surface, wingtips brushing the waves.
I think Anthony is cheating on me.
Crista’s announcement replayed in Maggie’s head like a cracked record.
It was impossible. Entirely fiction. A hallucination born of hormones and fear and too much time alone with her thoughts. Crista always overreacted, in any situation.
Anthony adored Crista, anyone with eyes could see that. He doted on Nolie. In the three years Maggie had lived with the family, she’d never seen anything that indicated Anthony had a cheating bone in his body.
He’d worked closely with Nolie when she was diagnosed with dyslexia, and he cared for his home like a natural protector. He was not the kind of man who betrayed his family.
Maggie knew people, and she’d bet her last dollar on Anthony Merritt.
There had to be another explanation. A logical one. A boring one. A financial one. A professional one. An unexpected one. Anything but the thing Crista feared.
Deleted texts. A password. A separate account.
Anthony was busy. He was ambitious and stepping into a new role. Okay, he had a pretty assistant and took his calls outside. None of that equaled infidelity.
“Magnolia Fredericks Lawson.”
Maggie blinked at her full name. “What?”
“You have not heard a single word I’ve said in the last five minutes.”
Maggie turned to her friend. “It hasn’t been a single word, Jo. It’s been a continuous broadcast with no commercial breaks for applause or breath.”
Jo Ellen stopped walking, flipping back a few silver locks that Maggie used to think were too long for a seventy-eight-year-old but she kind of loved now.
“Excuse me for breathing,” Jo Ellen murmured.
“Am I right?”
“You’re…brutal.” Jo Ellen laughed. “But that’s why I love you.
The truth is I have been delivering a perfectly curated monologue about the emotional state of every human in the Summer House—including dear Atlas, who smiled at me and it was not gas—and you have been nodding like a dashboard ornament.
” She leaned in. “We should get a few of those for Scarlett,” she added, referring to their playful name for the red T-bird their friend had unexpectedly gifted them.
“Maybe a Georgia Bulldog bobblehead for old time’s sake? ”
Maggie wasn’t thinking about the car. “Whatever,” she muttered. “I’m just…worried about other things.”
“Then share them,” Jo Ellen said, putting a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Or I’ll start guessing, and I’m going with a brain tumor.”
“Jo Ellen!”
“A long and sexy conversation with Brick the Biker?”
“Would you stop?”
“Oh, I know!” Jo Ellen practically danced on the sand. “You’re planning your toast for Eli and Kate’s wedding! How’s that for wishful thinking?”
Wedding? “It’s…crazy. Like you.” Maggie wanted to share all her fears, but somehow, repeating Crista’s allegations made them feel true.
“What’s going on, Mags?” Jo Ellen asked gently. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”
Maggie looked out at the water again, feeling herself succumbing to the temptation to tell.
“It’s not fun, it’s not pleasant, and, most of all, it’s not true,” Maggie started. “And you have to promise not to breathe a word to anyone and I do mean anyone—not Kate, not Tessa, not Meredith, and please not Crista. Not a soul.”
Jo Ellen raised her right hand. “I swear I will not breathe a word of whatever you are about to tell me. I swear on the sisterhood of Delta Delta Delta, in the spirit of the Tri-Delt honor code, the secret handshake, and the eternal bond of our sorority. I swear upon every pastel cardigan and pearl necklace I have ever owned that this dies with me.”
Despite herself, Maggie laughed. “All right.”
Jo Ellen leaned in, vibrating with anticipation. “I’m a vault.”
Maggie took a breath. “Crista thinks Anthony is cheating on her.”
The smile vanished. “What?”
“She told me this morning.”
“No.” Jo Ellen shook her head. “No, no, no. That’s not—”
“She’s convinced.”
“But they have Nolie. And a baby on the way. He couldn’t possibly…could he?” Her voice broke on the last two words.
“No,” Maggie said simply. “I don’t believe it.”
“So why would she think that?”
Maggie carefully explained what she knew—which was little—and why Crista seemed concerned.
“Okay, that’s all…fishy,” Jo Ellen agreed after taking it all in. “But this is Crista. Need I say more?”
“I know,” Maggie said on a sigh. “She tends to…blow things out of proportion.”
“Drama is her default,” Jo Ellen said. “It always has been. Even as a little girl, she was given to meltdowns and tantrums.”
Maggie frowned, never a fan of anyone saying anything negative about her kids, even if it was true.
“She was the youngest, and all the others were teenagers,” Maggie said. “Crista always felt like the odd man out with our kids and the only way to get attention was by crying.”
“Well, she’s not the odd man out now,” Jo Ellen said as though she didn’t buy the rationale.
“She lost her father at ten, Jo,” Maggie added, the words coming out more clipped than she wanted, but how could she not defend Crista?
“In the span of a month, her two siblings went to college, her father went to jail, and a few months later, she and I moved out of a beautiful custom-built home that was confiscated by the U.S. government and into a one-bedroom apartment. And I started working, leaving her to fend for herself for a few hours when she got home from school. The next thing she knew, her father died. Of course she’s dramatic. ”
“We weren’t speaking in those days,” Jo Ellen said, her voice rich with sympathy. “And I hate that our rift meant I couldn’t be there for you in that dark time.”
Maggie shrugged. “We survived, but Crista is…volatile. Maybe a little afraid of how easily a storybook life can blow up. I don’t fault her for the theatrics, but I don’t for one minute believe she’s right about Anthony.”
“Then there has to be a different explanation,” Jo Ellen said. “None of those things automatically mean there’s another woman. She didn’t catch him in the act.”
Maggie grimaced at the thought.
“She hasn’t confronted him?” Jo Ellen asked.
“He’ll say it’s hormones. That she’s imagining it. She doesn’t want to be dismissed.”
“I hate to say this, Mags, but a woman knows. At least, I think. Artie certainly never cheated.”
“Neither did Roger,” Maggie said. “Unless you count the loan shark who cheated him out of…everything.”
Jo nodded slowly, thinking. “Someone has to prove to Crista that she’s wrong.”
“Of course,” Maggie agreed. “But she’s not listening to common sense.”
“We need someone on the ground. A private investigator?”
“No, I can’t hire—”
“We could do it, Mags!”
Maggie slowed her step. “We?”
Jo’s mouth curved. “Who better?”
“Um…anyone?”
“I’m serious!” Jo Ellen insisted. “We just need to get up there and follow him around and verify that he’s not having an affair.”
“You’re out of your mind.” Even as Maggie said the words, a whisper of déjà vu rolled over her…along with quite recent memories of a road trip to Miami. “We couldn’t possibly…”
“Why not?” Jo Ellen shot back. “We fire up Scarlett, pack our bags, and start Senior Sleuthing.”
Maggie choked. “Excuse me?”
“I just made that up,” she beamed. “So alliterative, don’t you think? Must be all that Wordle I’ve been doing.”
“Are you on drugs?”
“Wordle isn’t a drug! Although it can be addictive.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Be serious, Jo. What are you suggesting?”
“That we drive up to Atlanta and keep an eye on Anthony. We give Crista the proof she needs—not that he is guilty, but that he isn’t.”
Maggie actually considered the idea, which was mad.
“Well, if we make up some reason for me to go home—like my roses need tending—then Anthony will just…behave. Then we’ll think we’re right, but we won’t know.”
“True,” Jo Ellen agreed. “So he can’t know we’re there, but we can very surreptitiously follow him and watch what he does, where he goes, who he goes with…”
Maggie fought a shiver despite the summer sun. The suggestion was so wrong…and so right.
“I can’t agree to that,” she said, giving voice to her thoughts. “If Crista found out, she’d be devastated. If Anthony found out, he’d be furious. If anyone else found out, they’d think I’d gone off the deep end and am an overbearing control freak trying to rule this family like the Queen Mother.”