Chapter 30
30
NOW
Gwen sits at the kitchen counter, filling out the paperwork from the insurance company when she hears someone ring the bell. She peers through the peephole to make sure it isn’t a reporter and sees Aimee. Relieved, she opens the door, only to have Aimee push past her into the foyer.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?” Gwen asks, taken aback by Aimee’s brusqueness. She closes the door and leans against it.
“Don’t lie to me. Don’t protect him. Tell me.” The ice in Aimee’s voice scares her. She’s never seen her friend angry before. “Were you in on this, too?”
“Was I what?”
“The whole drive over here, I kept thinking that if Gwen knew, she would tell me. We’re such good friends. She wouldn’t be able to keep this from me, would she?” Aimee lets out a short, harsh laugh. “Come to my house, eat my food, hang out with my family—she couldn’t pull off that kind of duplicity.”
Before Gwen can say anything, Barb enters the foyer, wearing navy slacks, a pale-blue crewneck sweater, and her signature double string of pearls. She looks like she’s heading out to an afternoon at the museum with her gardening club.
“Hello, I’m Barb Buckley.” Barb walks toward them, her hand extended. “Gwendolyn’s mother.”
Aimee’s posture softens, and she uncrosses her arms to shake hands with Barb. “Oh, hi. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Aimee. I live next door.”
“I know all about you.” Barb snaps her fingers. “You’re the landscaper. Boy, would I like to pick your brain. I have a black lace elderberry that isn’t black. Do you have any idea why?”
“Mom, please,” Gwen says. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
Barb laughs. “That was probably rude of me. You must get sick of folks pestering you with their plant questions.”
Aimee smiles stiffly. Gwen sees her struggling to overcome her anger long enough to answer politely. “Maybe it’s not getting enough sun. To get that dark, black color, elderberry needs full sun.”
“Well, aren’t you clever,” Barb says. “It is in a pretty shady spot. I’ll move it before the winter comes. Well, I’m off to the mall with the boys. They’ll both need suits.” Barb looks directly at Aimee. “For Anton’s funeral. Those poor boys, they’ve been through so much. We don’t want them to suffer any more than they have.”
Aimee shrinks back under Barb’s gaze.
“Thank you, Mom,” Gwen says.
“Of course. We must all put the interests of those two boys first right now. I’m sure you two ladies would agree.”
A low throbbing starts at the base of Gwen’s skull. A headache is imminent. She waits for her mother and the kids to leave, wondering how much she overheard of what Aimee was saying. The message her mother delivered was clear—do whatever it takes to protect Anton’s legacy. Barb would say it was for Rafi and George, but Gwen knows that isn’t the whole story. Becoming the subject of gossip and curiosity among her country club set would be Barb’s idea of hell.
Once Barb and the boys are out the door, Gwen turns to Aimee. “Do you want some coffee? I’m getting a headache and some caffeine might help.”
“No. I didn’t come here for coffee.”
“Well, I need some.” Gwen heads to the kitchen, Aimee right behind her, and sticks a mug under the Nespresso machine. “You sure you don’t want some?” She turns to see Aimee standing there, glaring at her.
“Forget the damn coffee, Gwen. I need to know what’s going on. Last Friday night, when Anton got so drunk, and he came to me in the laundry room? Remember? He said you deserve to know . At the time, I had no idea what he was talking about. Because I had no context, no clues. And I thought maybe it was just Anton being drunk and rambling.”
“He was drunk.” Gwen nods. “Very.”
“I want you to think about our friendship,” Aimee says. “It’s only been one year, but what did we both say? That we knew immediately we were destined to be friends. That we just clicked. That we were so lucky to have found each other. And how hard it was in your thirties, in your forties, to make real friends. Now look me in the eye, Gwen, please.”
Gwen raises her head and looks at Aimee. Aimee’s freckled face is red with anger, her brown eyes narrowed.
“I just found out that someone was blackmailing Scott, and that they communicated via email sent from a library at American University,” Aimee says, her gaze unwavering. “Where Anton worked. I think the person blackmailing Scott was Anton.” She pauses a beat. “Gwen, am I right?”
The question is an arrow that shoots straight through Gwen, nailing her to the wall. She can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t look away from Aimee’s face. In her silence, her stillness, Gwen’s complicity is laid bare. If she imagined that she might be able to lie to Aimee, to pretend she didn’t know, she had only been fooling herself. Now that the time has come, she is defenseless against her friend’s plea for the truth.
“Yeah, it was Anton.” The whispered words barely register to her own ears, but they’re loud enough for Aimee to hear.
“And you knew.” Aimee’s voice is low and measured. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”
“Please! Let me explain!”
“Yeah, you’re going to explain.” She laughs, abrupt and unkind. “Right before I call the police. But I will give you one chance as my friend to tell me your side.”
What can she say? There’s no side. Just the awful unvarnished facts. That Anton told her everything the other night during their fierce argument, and she did nothing about it. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me. I had no idea what he was up to, I swear, Aimee. Not until Friday night.”
“Is that what you were fighting about?”
Gwen nods. “Yes.”
“What did he say? Exactly.”
“He was upset. Really upset.” Gwen closes her eyes, forcing herself to remember that night. “I had put the kids to bed. Anton stayed downstairs and kept drinking. By the time I got downstairs he was very drunk. He left out the back with Sababa to walk him, and I followed him out. I confronted him.”
“About what? If you didn’t know he was blackmailing Scott, what did you confront him about?”
“I knew something was up. I thought that he had started cheating on me again. My mind just jumped to that conclusion. I had no idea what he had really been up to, Aimee, I swear.”
“But what did he say?” Aimee presses on, louder. “What words did he use?”
“He said he had done something really stupid. He said he had fucked up.”
“Meaning what?”
“He was worried… he was in a panic. He was almost frantic. He said he had to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?” she asks through gritted teeth.
Gwen shrinks before Aimee’s ferocity. She will have to say it out loud. Ever since Friday night when Anton told her what he had been doing, Gwen has known that this moment would come, but it’s so much harder than she ever imagined.
“About Noa,” she says softly.
“Noa?” Aimee’s voice catches. “Gwen, what does Noa have to do with any of this?”
“I don’t know all the details. I was upset. We were yelling at each other.” Gwen feels sick. She shouldn’t have to do this. It wasn’t her fault. This is Anton, that bastard, ruining her life, even from death. “He told me he needed money. That I had emasculated him, if you can believe that. He said I cut his balls off. How could he be expected to live like this? It wasn’t his fault, he said. It got out of control—”
Aimee slaps her hand down on the granite. “Gwen! What does this have to do with Noa?”
“He said he had been blackmailing Scott,” Gwen says, the words tumbling out. “That he had some dirt on him. And no, he didn’t say what it was, and I didn’t ask. I was so shocked. I was so angry. I threw a coffee mug at him. It hit him in the head. I thought I cleaned up all the pieces, but that’s what you stepped on. Remember? On Saturday?”
“I don’t care about the damn coffee mug!” Aimee steps closer, just inches from Gwen, and for a moment Gwen wonders if her friend is going to hurt her. Aimee may be small, but she’s strong from so much physical labor. “You’re going to explain what this has to do with Noa.”
“Anton said somehow the thing with Scott had gotten out of control. He said it was connected with that woman, that client of yours,” Gwen says. “You know, the one with the kittens?”
“Kittens?” Aimee stumbles back. “You mean Cathy? How is she involved?”
“I don’t know, I swear.”
“Goddamnit, Gwen. We’re talking about my daughter. What did Anton say?”
“He didn’t tell me the connection. All he said was…”
“Was what?”
“He was worried that Noa had been going over there.” Gwen paused and looked away for a moment, then in a lowered voice she said: “That she might be in danger.”