Nineteen
Irene had set up an encrypted group chat for the four of them. This was not something any of them were used to. “What do you mean the messages just disappear?” Edie kept asking. “Why?”
Joan had explained it as best she could, but Frances and Edie had loads of questions. Where did the messages go? Was there any way to get them back? What if you didn’t see it before twenty-four hours was up?
It had been a few days, and Edie didn’t like it—information was coming fast and hard, and everything of importance disappeared after twenty-four hours.
She was accustomed to running charity drives and garden parties, the planning of which was done over long, wordy email chains.
It made it difficult to find any details, but at least there was a record of everything.
But this? She had to keep a notepad at the kitchen table to jot down important points while she had a sandwich before they disappeared.
The instructions from Joan she’d jotted down thus far:
–the time they were to arrive in Dallas
–the location they were to meet in Dallas
–the list of things Joan said they needed to bring (Wigs? Really?)
–medications. Never forget your meds
–Joan’s phone number in case she lost this list
Notes from Irene included:
–cardigans, hoodies, ball caps, and walking shoes
–Fran, stop texting how much fun this is
And from Frances:
–the location of the house rental Frances had found in Las Vegas. In case they were separated. It wouldn’t be hard to remember—it was on the same street as the last place they’d rented there (as if any of them could remember that).
–this is so much fun!
Edie dutifully wrote it all down and kept the notepad in her purse.
Today was the day. She was leaving in an hour or so, on her way to Dallas to meet up with the girls.
She was at the kitchen table, having coffee and some eggs, reviewing her list to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
It was only the second morning she’d had to herself—it had taken two days to convince Marcy to go back to Nashville.
“You treat me like a child, Nana,” Marcy had complained.
“In some ways, you still act like one. Don’t give me that sour puss. You know what I’m saying is true.”
Marcy’s gaze had turned hard. “Well, what do you suggest I do about it?”
“I suggest you pick yourself up and make your own way.”
“That’s what you always say,” Marcy had shot back and then had left in a huff.
There was no one home this morning but Edie and Bernie. Simon hadn’t come home last night. He was more brazen with his affair, almost daring her to say or do something about it. He was going to get his wish.
When she was satisfied she had everything she needed, the only thing left to do was to let her douche of a husband know she’d be gone a couple of weeks.
After all, they’d built this estate together and it needed to be tended.
She got up from the table and took her plate to the sink.
That man had some nerve staying at Linda’s where the whole town could see him.
He’d said he was going downstate for a couple of days to take care of some business.
But she’d driven by Linda’s house yesterday and seen his car parked out front, and Linda’s in the drive.
She could hardly avoid knowing—Linda’s house was on the road to the bank.
This was part of the twisted game they played in their marriage. He knew she’d see his car. He also knew she would make it hard for him. Sometimes she thought Simon liked having his balls busted. And he liked knocking her down a peg.
She walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the primary bedroom.
She walked up to the Cézanne, that constant reminder of where their forty-five-year marriage had started.
She pulled the painting away from the wall; it opened on two hidden hinges.
Behind it was the safe. It had once had an old-style lock, but that was Edie’s best skill—she knew how to crack safes.
She was self-taught and had once been damn good at it.
Several years ago, she’d managed to pick that old-style tumbling lock and had almost gotten away with the Pahlavi brooch.
But she hadn’t been aware of the safe’s silent alarm and Simon had caught her in the act.
“Oh, Edie,” he’d said with a maniacal grin. “You know I can’t let you have that.”
He’d replaced that safe with one that had a digital lock, which Edie had yet been able to crack. But every week, she came with her reading glasses and combination guesses, generated by a computer, and tried. One day, she figured, she would get lucky. Surely.
Every week, Simon changed the code.
They never spoke about their weird game, but they both understood they were playing.
Edie wanted that piece of jewelry—it was how he kept her here, doing his bidding.
And Simon very much wanted to keep it and hold it over her head and keep her exactly where he wanted her.
Theirs was a zero-sum game that would likely never end.
It wasn’t going to end this week, either, as Edie tried all ten of her guesses.
Like she did every week, she returned the ridiculously pretentious portrait to the wall, hoisted her bag over her shoulder, went downstairs, said goodbye to Bernie, scratched the dogs behind their ears, got into her sports car, and drove to town.
It was only half past nine, which meant Simon was probably still having his coffee.
He’d never been an early riser. Edie parked in front of Linda’s Craftsman-style cottage.
If she didn’t hate Linda so much, she might have admired her tidy little house.
It had a certain charm to it. She walked up the steps to the door and pounded hard, knowing very well she was startling everyone inside.
A few moments later, the thick wooden door with the charming door lights was yanked open. Linda stared at Edie agog.
“You’ll want to watch for flies,” Edie said, gesturing to her gaping mouth.
Linda immediately snapped it shut and tightened her robe around her.
Her hair looked like she’d just rolled out of bed.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and close up, Edie noted with delight that her skin was as blotchy and age spotted as hers had been until she’d had the latest laser treatment done on her face.
“What are you doing here, Edie?”
“What do you think, Linda? I have a message for my husband.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and held it up. “Would you mind passing this along? This is a list of bills he needs to pay and some calls he needs to make. I will be away for a few days.”
Linda blanched. She stared at the paper, then glowered at Edie, as if she was insulted Edie would insinuate her husband was here. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” She lifted her chin slightly.
“No? Why, did you tie one on last night? I heard you could knock them back,” Edie said breezily. “Did you maybe forget you dragged another woman’s husband home with you?”
“All right, Edie. That’s enough of that. Please go—I don’t have what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, I think you do,” Edie said. “Unless you want to pretend those clown shoes next to the door and the raincoat draped over your couch belong to your other lover?”
Linda’s glower turned darker, but she snatched the paper from Edie’s fingers.
Edie smiled. “Please tell him I am going on a genealogy trip.”
“What? What’s going on?”
Simon abruptly joined the chat, appearing behind Linda in a tank top, boxers, and a plaid robe.
The few hairs he had left on top of his head were standing on end.
Edie couldn’t help but marvel at how much she’d once loved this man.
Adored him. Funny how that sort of love died a gruesome death.
But then, a different sort of love had cropped up in its place. Fondness. History. Familiarity.
“I am doing a genealogy tour.”
Simon scratched his belly, looking confused. “What’s that?”
“And you need to take care of things while I’m gone.”
“Gone for how long?”
“A couple of weeks.”
Simon frowned. “What are you talking about, Edie? Are you leaving?”
“I just told you, Simon. I’m going to be in New England. Which means you and your side chick here will have the run of the town. But if I find that you have brought her up to Songbird Hill in my absence, I will make a big public stink about it when you are both least expecting it.”
Linda gasped.
“Watch what you say,” Simon said ominously.
“Watch yourself, Don Juan,” Edie returned. She shifted her gaze from Simon’s belly bloat to Linda. “You will never get what you want from him. You know that, don’t you? None of the others have, either.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Simon groaned.
“I’m off. You’re both horrifying your neighbors.” Edie marched off the porch, but she hadn’t gotten far before Simon bellowed at her.
“Edie!”
She paused and turned back. “Did you call the electrician about the barn lights?”
Edie didn’t respond and turned away from him, moving toward her car.
“Edie!”
She hesitated. She turned back once more. “Are you leaving leaving?” he asked from the top step of Linda’s porch.
She opened the door to her car, held up a middle finger, got in, and gunned it, driving far too fast on a residential road.
She’d just crossed into Arkansas when she realized she’d left her list behind. She called Bernie in a panic.
“Here it is, Mrs. Kessler,” Bernie said soothingly. “What would you like me to do with it?”
Edie closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
Such a dumb, rookie thing to do. Careless careless careless.
Irene would tell her how stupid she was, Joan would shake her head with disappointment, and Frances would sigh as if it pained her.
“Will you put it on my chest of drawers in my closet? And Bernie—can you tell me the address I wrote down?”
Bernie gave her the address. “I’ll put it away, Mrs. Kessler. Not to worry. Have fun on your trip!”
“Thank you,” Edie said, and clicked off.
She leaned back against the headrest. “Don’t be an idiot,” she whispered.
She sincerely hoped that was not a portent of things to come.
They were all much older now, their memories not as sharp.
And God forbid they find a digital safe in their way.
But most of all, Edie did not want to do something stupid and be responsible for them being caught.
She would never forgive herself. She already couldn’t forgive herself for Simon.
But come on. There was no way they were going to pull this off. No way.
And yet, she continued driving to Dallas. They may not pull it off, but she was not going to let them down a second time.