2 Suzy #2
Suzy loved Lincoln. They all loved Lincoln.
But lately, that love had gotten complicated.
Not just because of what he’d done to Lily, but for other reasons as well.
Reasons not even Sean knew about. But it all added up to Suzy being fairly disgusted by the hold Lincoln had over her husband.
Yes, he was technically Sean’s boss, but they were also college fraternity brothers, old friends, guys who had always had each other’s backs.
The power dynamic between them should not be so skewed, and it seemed to get more skewed in Lincoln’s favor with each passing year.
Suffice it to say, Lincoln Foster was not the person they had always thought he was, and she was ashamed of the way they had all hero-worshipped him for so long.
But that didn’t mean she was going to miss their Hamptons week.
“Hey, Marshall loved it too,” Sean said, dropping her heaviest bag at her feet. “And you told me I had to do the research and decide where they were going. You washed your hands of it.”
She had washed her hands of it because she was sick of doing literally everything when it came to the kids.
Not just ordering their school uniforms and signing them up for clubs and sports and making sure they had their annual well visits and dentist appointments and orthodontist appointments lined up.
But making every single decision, from minute to major, that affected their lives.
For the last fifteen years, Sean’s mantra had become Whatever you think is best, Suze, which she had lately come to interpret as I can’t be bothered; you deal with it.
So she had left summer camp to him. And then he had gone and made the exact wrong decision and sent her children to some woodsy sleepaway torture experience in Vermont just because Lincoln and Marshall had gone there eons ago.
“Besides, I think it’ll be good for the kids to learn to rough it a bit,” he said.
Suzy lifted her shoulders and shook her head.
“Why? Why do our kids need to learn to rough it?” She flung her arms out to indicate their posh surroundings, their luxury SUV, her $5,000 bag.
“Are we expecting the zombie apocalypse? Is there some sort of Hunger Games trial you’re planning to enroll them in next? ”
“No, but God, I’m just saying . . . you never know what’s around the corner.”
Wintour barked twice, and Suzy bent to pick her up, cradling her in her arms. Her little black-and-white ears were perked up straight as she glared at Sean.
“Okay. That’s it. You never say stuff like that,” Suzy said. “What is going on, Sean? Is it that expansion plan you and Lincoln have been working on? Did something happen?”
He shook his head and rubbed at his brow with his thumb and forefinger, letting out a weary groan.
“Sean! What the hell! Tell me!” Wintour yipped once.
“Okay, God, can you both just dial it down a notch?” he said, reaching up to hit the button and close the trunk. He scratched the top of Wintour’s head, his big hand dwarfing her skull. “Everything is at a ten with you.”
Suzy glowered. If she had a dollar for every time he’d said that to her in their marriage, she could have left him and settled in a nice oceanside community in Florida. “I’m gonna call that woman back. She can’t make Kasie take the blame for chore day. Her entire summer will be ruined.”
Sean shook his head at the ground, defeated. “Whatever you think is best, Suze.”
She was about to hit the call button when the double front doors of the house—custom made in Tuscany in a classic fresco design—flung open, and out walked Lincoln, arms spread wide, one of the house staff hustling in his wake.
Every time Suzy laid eyes on Lincoln, she was struck again by how tall he was.
Six foot five in flip-flops, and wearing a deep-blue short-sleeved button-down and white linen slacks, he looked every bit the billionaire host he was.
A shock of dark hair hung low over one brow, and his skin had the perpetual tan of the Hamptons crew.
Sean’s angry, put-upon expression morphed instantly into a huge, ingratiating smile.
“There’s my favorite lawyer!” Lincoln shouted, striding across the paver driveway and pulling Sean into a bro hug.
“Isn’t your brother a lawyer?” Sean joked back.
“I don’t know.” Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Is he, though?”
The men both laughed. Marshall was, in fact, in family law.
He worked with foster kids and adoptive parents, helping them navigate the complex New Jersey legal system to help couples give children stable homes.
Ergo, he took constant grief for being a do-gooder and not a real lawyer.
When Marley and Marshall had begun the adoption process, they had assumed that Marshall’s insider knowledge would make it a cinch, but so far, that had not panned out the way they’d thought it would.
“Suzy! More beautiful every time I see you!” Lincoln said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
He smelled of expensive lotion and top-shelf whiskey.
She wondered if Sean noticed that Lincoln’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Most likely not. The man wouldn’t have noticed if a seagull flew overhead and pooped on her face.
“Hey, Wintour,” he said, chucking the dog on the chin with one knuckle.
Wintour barked, her tail wagging so hard it smacked Suzy repeatedly in the chest.
“Hello, Lincoln,” Suzy said smoothly, wiping all the irritation out of her voice. “Where’s Hazel?” she forced herself to ask.
“Oh, she’s in the pool with the kids,” Lincoln said and waved a hand. “You should go say hi! I’m sure Ben and Liv would love to meet Winnie.”
Not wanting to be rude in the first five seconds of this visit, Suzy bit her tongue to keep from correcting him on the dog’s name.
Sometimes she forgot that Lincoln now had kids.
Plural. Hazel had come with two of her own and then quickly produced a third with Lincoln.
She looked all of eighteen years old but had more spawn than Suzy.
Where had the other two come from? Was their father still in the picture?
Was there more than one father? If only it wasn’t socially unacceptable to ask people such things.
But then again, she hadn’t spent any extended period of time with Hazel.
Maybe she could get the tea sometime this week.
“Trevor, can you park the car?” Lincoln said to the staff member hovering behind him.
The young man, who wore the standard house uniform of dark-blue pants and light-blue polo, immediately straightened his posture, and Sean handed him the keys.
He was overall clean cut, with short black hair and a sharp shave, but she saw the hint of a tattoo on the back of his neck as he walked past, peeking out the top of his collar.
Maybe the tail of a snake? A scorpion? Whatever it was, he was definitely new. “I’ll help with the bags.”
“You got it, Mr. Foster,” Trevor said.
Lincoln picked up Suzy’s suitcase and turned toward the house. “So how are Kasie and Elton liking camp? Are they good? Have they learned the camp song yet?”
Sean and Suzy exchanged a quick look behind Lincoln’s back and mutually decided to lie. Who wanted to spoil a nice moment like this with stories of Kasie’s drama? Besides, Elton was doing fine. She assumed. At least, she hadn’t heard from him. Maybe she should call back . . .
“Oh, they love it. Thank you again for recommending it,” Sean said, following Lincoln toward the door. Suzy’s internal temperature cooled now that the initial greetings were done.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a half-dozen men in construction gear—reflective vests, work boots, hard hats—walk out the garage doors and around the west side of the house. Her eyes narrowed. What in the world was that all about?
Something felt different about the entryway, but Suzy couldn’t quite place it.
The house was a huge stucco structure, sprawling out in both directions from the grand front door.
There was a parking lot—useful for all the parties—down a short drive to the left of the roundabout.
Above the front door was a veranda off a sunroom, where a couple of potted trees stood at the corners.
Huge multipaned windows lined the first and second hall of the main wing, with dormers and more balconies up top.
The third floor featured a rooftop deck on the west side and a huge theater on the east, which had a wraparound deck off two sets of sliders.
The house hadn’t been painted or resurfaced or anything, but still, something was off.
Maybe it was the fact that Suzy knew Lily wouldn’t be waiting inside.
Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been here in two years now.
Last year’s Hamptons trip had been canceled because Hazel had been about to give birth.
At the door, another staff member, this one a young woman, welcomed them.
“Hi, Candice! How have you been?” Suzy asked, proud of herself for remembering the girl’s name.
“I’ve been well, Mrs. McTeague, and you?”
Suzy took a deep breath and looked around the giant foyer, scratching Wintour’s head absently.
Everything looked the same—the two-story foyer lit up by the huge windows on either side of the door.
Just beyond the entry was the wide half-spiral staircase with its gleaming dark-wood banister and the crystal chandelier Lily had shipped over from Italy.
Oddly, though, the house smelled different.
Spicier? Less honey and linen, which were Lily’s favorite scents, and more .
. . musky somehow. It gave Suzy an odd sense of foreboding.
Still, she smiled when she turned back to Candice.
“Fabulous. Thanks for asking.”