Chapter 20
“Another escapade?” Maggie whined with the same high pitch she’d heard her little granddaughter give when she simply did not want to do something.
She sure as heck did not want to go back to Buckhead and spy. All Maggie wanted was to go home—and by home, she meant Destin. She was equal parts exhausted, discouraged, and sorry she and Jo Ellen had ever embarked on this adventure.
“We’ve seen nothing,” she said as she backed out of Barbara’s driveway, confident that she and Jo Ellen had left the house in the same perfect condition they’d found it.
“We have one more shot,” Jo Ellen said. “Let’s do a drive-by at lunchtime and see if he leaves the office with her. If not, we can chalk it up to suspicions but no lipstick on collars, no hotel rendezvous, no canoodling.”
Maggie adjusted the rearview mirror and mentally planned her route to Lenox Road. “Canoodling? That’s the gold standard now?”
“It has always been the gold standard,” Jo Ellen replied primly. “You cannot cheat without canoodling and the only canoodling Anthony did was spend a whole lot of time on that ride-around mower last Saturday.”
“And never even noticed I’d tended my own rose garden.” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “He’s not forgiven for that sin.”
“But he’s not a cheater.”
“We think he’s not,” Maggie corrected.
As they drove into Buckhead, the mid-morning sun slanted across the glass buildings, and Maggie felt the weight of uncertainty press on her chest.
“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I hate doubting him.”
“You’re not doubting him,” Jo Ellen corrected gently. “You’re doubting Crista’s doubt.”
Maggie blew out a breath. That was uncomfortably accurate.
Crista’s voice had been so steady when she’d said it. I feel it, Mama. Something is wrong.
Maggie had dismissed it. Hormones. Anxiety. Pregnancy. She’d defended Anthony fiercely.
And yet…the debit card. The deleted texts. The password. Who was he talking to on the phone so often? Staying out all night, once, she reminded herself.
“All right,” Maggie said, peering at the street sign and cursing Atlanta traffic. “One more time.”
“One more lunchtime observation,” Jo Ellen agreed. “If he walks out alone and eats a sad sandwich by himself, we go home victorious. If he leaves with a woman…” She lifted a shoulder. “Then we won’t clear his name to Crista.”
And, really, that was all Maggie had ever wanted.
They parked two blocks from Anthony’s office building just before noon, the T-bird well hidden, their stupid scarves tied on, sunglasses firmly in place.
The Lenox Road area hummed with weekday energy all around as Maggie adjusted her scarf. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look incognito,” Jo Ellen corrected.
“I look like I’m about to rob a bank in Palm Beach.”
Jo Ellen patted her hand. “Focus.”
They sat on a bench in front of the building, pretending to scroll through their phones while actually staring at the entrance like two extremely obvious spies.
At twelve fifteen, the doors swung open, shocking them both when Anthony stepped out. And right beside him, a brunette. Not either of the women they thought might be Pamela, but a whole different one.
Who was this?
Maggie’s stomach dropped so abruptly she felt it in her knees.
“Well,” Jo Ellen breathed. “There’s your canoodling candidate.”
Not exactly. They were walking briskly, side by side, talking, laughing, nodding to each other. A business meeting? A paramour?
“Wherever they’re going, it’s on foot,” Jo Ellen said, sitting up. “Let’s follow but stay back.”
“And if he sees us?” Maggie slid a look to Jo. “We limp.”
Snorting a laugh, they fell into step half a block behind Anthony and the woman, doing their very best to appear casual, but probably sticking out like seventy-eight-year-old sore thumbs in the middle of this upscale, urban, youthful environment.
Suddenly, Anthony fooled them by turning and jaywalking across the street.
“Oh, dear. We’re not doing that,” Maggie said.
“Just keep him in your sights, Mags, and hustle to the light. It’s green.”
“Hustle?” Maggie rolled her eyes. “The last time I hustled was in college dancing—and I was three vodka tonics to the wind and still had my original hips.”
Somehow, they caught up across the street, watching as Anthony paused at another massive office building. He looked down at the woman next to him, who gazed right back up at him, and for one horrifying second, she thought they were going to kiss.
But they shook hands, burst out laughing, then hugged.
“Canoodling?” Jo Ellen asked.
“Not quite,” Maggie declared.
Together, they walked through the building’s large glass doors. Maggie and Jo Ellen exchanged a look, a nod, and followed.
“It’s not a hotel,” Jo Ellen whispered as they stepped inside the sleek marble lobby. “That’s a blessing.”
“Look,” Maggie said, watching them march to large glass doors of a law firm on the lobby level.
“They’re visiting an attorney?” Maggie rasped the question. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“It could be for work,” Jo Ellen said, squinting at the many partner names on what looked like a large and prestigious firm.
“Or for a divorce,” Maggie whispered.
“No!”
Maggie launched a brow and eyed a leather bench next to a tall Ficus tree in the lobby. The plant would hide them, but they were close enough to see when the couple—no, not a couple!—left the offices.
“Let’s wait and watch,” she said.
Jo Ellen agreed with a sigh, the two of them taking the bench and leaning back so they were hidden.
“Is this what my life has come to?” Maggie muttered.
“No, your life has come to moving to Destin and having the best decade of all.” Jo elbowed her. “Don’t forget that.”
“I can’t think about it now. Not with Anthony in there getting a divorce.”
“Will you stop?”
Maggie’s heart began pounding in her ears. Law office. Why would Anthony need a law office? There really was only one possibility—he was filing for “dissolution of marriage.”
“We don’t know what he’s doing in there,” Jo Ellen said quickly.
“Why else would he—”
“Estate planning? Business contracts? Wills? His work?”
“He’s a software engineer…manager…thing. They have attorneys at that company—a whole department full of them. And it’s lunchtime. This is personal.” Maggie chewed on her lip. “This is serious.”
Time slowed while they waited, but Maggie’s mind did the opposite. It raced ahead in awful, vivid detail—Crista’s face crumpling, Nolie asking why Daddy didn’t live with them anymore, the baby born into fracture.
She pressed her palm against her chest. “I should have taken Crista more seriously.”
“You took her plenty seriously,” Jo Ellen countered. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
True enough.
Finally, after what had to be an hour, they spotted Anthony in the law firm’s lobby with the nameless brunette and a man, all of them shaking hands. The man clamped his hand on Anthony’s shoulder and beamed at him.
A moment later, Anthony and the woman walked out, too busy talking to notice the old women in scarves hiding behind a tree. They were only fifteen feet away and Maggie could see her son-in-law’s face clearly.
She knew that face and the happiness etched on it. She’d seen that expression when he hoisted Nolie on his shoulders or clapped for her from the auditorium during a Christmas play. She’d—
“It’s done!” the woman said, reaching a hand up to high-five Anthony.
He grinned at her and held up the fat file folder. “Signed and sealed, baby.”
Baby?
“Are you happy?” she asked.
“Over the moon.” He made a face like he couldn’t contain his joy and reached for her, hugging her hard.
Hugging? Embracing, more like. A triumphant, exuberant squeeze of affection.
Maggie felt something inside her splinter.
Anthony pulled back, still smiling. “I can’t wait another minute, Evelyn.”
Evelyn? Who was this woman?
“I have to tell Crista and pray she doesn’t murder me for doing something so life changing. She has to know the truth. I can’t go on lying to her any longer.”
The words detonated, each like a little bomb in Maggie’s head. She shot to her feet so abruptly she nearly toppled the Ficus.
Jo Ellen grabbed her arm. “Maggie—”
Too late.
Maggie marched forward, ripping off her head scarf like a battle flag.
“Anthony.”
She kept her voice low, but the tone of it cracked through the lobby like a whip, and Anthony jerked around, blinking. Then every drop of blood drained from his face.
Of course—guilty.
“Maggie? What…what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Maggie demanded, advancing, working to control her tenor. “What are you doing here, Anthony John Merritt?”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Is this your mother?”
Anthony glanced between them. “No…I—this is—”
“You,” Maggie cut in, stabbing a finger toward his chest, staying close so she could make her point without causing a scene. “You are about to destroy the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“Maggie—”
“Crista is the greatest woman on this planet. She is carrying your child. She has given you a beautiful daughter. She has stood by you through promotions and pressure and stress. She made you a gorgeous home and you’re willing to destroy it with the same cavalier attitude you used when you totally forgot about my roses? ”
“Maggie—”
“And this—” she gestured toward the law office “—this is how you repay her?”
Anthony stared at her as if she’d been speaking in Greek. Stunned, he looked around, his gaze landing on Jo Ellen, who gave a weak and pathetic wave as she shuffled closer.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, still sounding stunned.
“We’ve been following you,” Jo said, making Maggie groan. Did that matter now? He was ruining his life and needed to know that.
Anthony’s jaw dropped. “You’ve been—what? Why?”
“Because I believed in you.” Maggie ground out the words.
“When Crista came to me scared and suspicious, I defended you. I told her there was no universe in which you would cheat. And this—this secret debit card, these deleted texts, these clandestine meetings with your young, attractive assistant—”