Chapter Forty-One Before—Poppy
| Forty-One |
Before—Poppy
For a writer, Bennett didn’t use his imagination very well in hiding the key to his office.
It was in the most clichéd place you could imagine, and it took me less than fifteen minutes to find it in his underwear drawer.
I didn’t want to risk using it while he was home, even if he was fast asleep, so I had already done my research ahead of time.
I bought a putty kit to make an impression of the key.
The next day, I drove a few towns over to a locksmith, explaining that I was making a novelty craft piece using an impression of a broken key from my childhood home.
I’m not sure he bought my story, but he made me the key, nonetheless.
I plan to use it today when Bennett goes into the city to meet with his agent.
We’re leaving late this afternoon to spend the Labor Day weekend at the Hamptons house.
It’s the first time we’re taking the boat out all summer.
Bennett’s been swamped trying to get his book finished and it’s been okay with me.
I don’t really like the boat, or the house in the Hamptons.
I don’t tell him that, of course. Who wouldn’t like a fifty-five-foot yacht with top-of-the-line amenities?
Maybe if I had learned to swim, I wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck on the boat.
But I’m too embarrassed to tell him that I can’t swim.
I don’t even go in our pool. When we’re in the Hamptons he always wants to go to the beach.
The ocean terrifies me. But he says he’s never missed a Labor Day there, so there was no way to get out of it.
I made a promise to myself that before next summer I’ll take swimming lessons.
I waited until he was gone for ten minutes before heading toward his office.
My heart was beating so hard that I had to stop, take a deep breath, and tell myself to calm down.
I stood in front of the door, exhaled again, and put the key in.
It didn’t slide in easily and I wiggled it to try to make it fit.
I stopped. What if it broke off in the door?
I gently turned it again. Click. The door opened.