In Confidence

“Betcha a dollar to doughnuts that he’s telling himself he’ll figure a way to get around that sticky issue.”

“I grant you his behavior is pretty disgusting,” Rachel said as she bent forward and picked up her wineglass, “but he won’t just dismiss eighteen years of marriage and our two children like one of his used suits. You’ll see.”

“Just promise me you’ll call Stephanie.”

That lowlife, Cam thought as he made his way back across the lawn. And stupid to boot, screwing around with his partner’s wife. Although he didn’t know Ted Forrester beyond a few casual encounters at the golf course, he’d seen him a couple of months ago at a restaurant in Dallas with a woman and it wasn’t Rachel. With no connection to Rachel other than the few minutes he’d spent in her office five years before, he’d thought nothing of it. But now…somehow after overhearing her talking to her mother and knowing the boy’s concern, he couldn’t quite manage the detachment it took to stay clear of sticky situations.

Back inside his house now, he went to the fridge for a beer. Unscrewing the cap, he headed back onto the porch and stood squinting through the afternoon sun at Dinah’s patio where both women still sat talking. Ever since Nick’s surprise visit this morning, he’d been trying to figure what in hell was behind the boy’s request. Well, now he knew. With his father shirking his responsibilities as keeper of the Forrester cave, the son felt obliged to assume the man-of-the-house role. Apparently that included helping his mom manage things on the home front and seeing to the welfare of his little sister and his grandmother…even if it meant forgoing his pride and seeking help from someone who was a virtual stranger. A daunting task for a fifteen-year-old.

His beer forgotten, he stared at the two women as thoughts of Jack and his own desolated family rushed back. He’d spent five years wishing he could turn back the clock, wishing especially that he wasn’t haunted by that last telephone call from Jack.

It had been late at night and he’d been in the throes of his usual deadline angst, trying to work through a book that was giving him problems. He’d rewritten the dialogue of the killer at least four times, trying to get it right. It was a crucial scene, one that would shed a glimmer of understanding about a man who had murdered half a dozen teenagers in the local lover’s lane of a small town in California. The crime had actually happened, and only God—or the devil—knew for certain what the killer said or thought as he prepared his young victims for sexual torture and death. Cam’s extensive research into the case had provided a lot of facts, but little psychological insight. If he’d pulled the story out of his imagination, he could invent whatever drove a monster to kill. But his genre was true crime, and his evaluation of the killer’s psyche had to be solid. After three bestsellers, nothing less for his next book would satisfy his fans or Cam himself.

In the back of his mind, he’d heard his phone ringing but ignored it. Everyone knew to leave him alone when he was working to a deadline. The book had to be on his editor’s desk in two weeks, and even working fourteen-hour days, he’d have to push to get it done. It was on the fifth ring that the answering machine picked up.

“Hi, Dad. It’s me.”

Jack. Cam dropped his head and groaned. It was the third time this week that his son had called, and Cam was still clueless over the reason for the calls. Lately when Jack phoned, he seemed to have something on his mind besides playing ball and the latest movie or rock group. When Cam tried probing deeper, all he got was evasion or Jack suddenly had to hang up.

Now Cam turned to look at the answering machine, silent except for Jack’s breathing. It could simply be that Jack wanted to see Cam, whether in a visit to New York or in Texas, where he lived with his mother. He hadn’t come out and said so, but that had to be it. He knew it was not possible. It was the middle of the school year. Besides, he knew Cam was on deadline. Jack understood these things. Or he used to understand these things.

“Dad, will you pick up?” There was urgency in his tone now. “I need to talk to you.”

Maybe it was Cara. Now that Jack was in the full throes of adolescence, maybe they were at odds over some things. Girls. Sex. Algebra. But, hell, it would kill Cara if Jack actually pushed to come and live with Cam in New York and leave her.

“I know you’re on deadline, Dad, but—” Jack’s voice caught on something that sounded like a sob.

Cam picked up. “Hey, Jack. What’s up, son?”

“Not too much.” Cam heard a sniff, then in a muffled tone, Jack said, “I guess you’re working, huh?”

Cam looked at the blinking cursor on his monitor. “I’m trying to wrap this one up, yeah, but maybe taking a break’s a good thing. How’s it going with you, son?”

“We had a game tonight. I scored eighteen points.”

“Well, hey! Next year, you’ll make the varsity team in a cakewalk.”

“If I don’t break a leg or something.”

Cam smiled. “It’s hard to break a leg that’s only fifteen years old. Now, you take my legs—”

“Nah, Dad, thanks. You can keep both of ’em.” Jack laughed, but to Cam’s ears, it seemed shaky, not quite right.

“Is something wrong, Jack? Everything okay with your mom?”

“Mom’s okay. I think she’s serious about this guy Anthony.”

“You like him?”

“He’s cool, I guess.”

“How about school? Those grades went a little south last term. Are you having a problem?”

“It was my own fault, Dad. I just…f—ah, messed up and it got away from me. I’ll bring ’em around next term, okay?”

“I know you can do it, son.” Cam rubbed a hand over his face, knowing he should be the one helping Jack, but how the hell could he when they were separated by the breadth of the whole country? It had been a stupid idea for Cara to move back to Texas after the divorce. What the hell had she been thinking? Why had he let her do it?

“Dad…”

“Yeah?”

“I—ah, I mean, I wish we could—” Jack made a strangled sound. “When do you think you’ll finish your book?”

“Couple of weeks, Jack. I’ve run into some problems with this one, but I’ll work them out eventually. Soon as it’s done, I’m outta here and coming to see you.” Using the mouse, Cam idly scrolled back to the chapter he’d written the day before and scanned the text. After a second or two, inspiration struck. Suddenly he knew how to write the scene he’d been wrestling with.

“…some trouble with the guys on the team,” Jack was saying. “I was thinking maybe you could come down and—”

“Hold a second, Jack.” Cam clicked the mouse and wrote a couple of phrases before losing his thought. “Now, what’s that you were saying?”

“It’s—oh, nothing, Dad,” he replied in a deflated tone. “I guess you need to get back to work.”

“I can tell there’s something on your mind, son. The minute this book’s done, I’ll get on a plane and be there. We can talk it over.”

“You really think it won’t be too long, Dad?”

“Two weeks, maximum, Jack. I promise.”

“Well—”

“I’ll get this thing in the mail and we’ll spend some real time together. You know your grandparents’ house is empty now they’re gone, so I don’t see why I can’t arrange to stay for the summer. No reason why I have to be here in New York. How ’bout that?”

“It’s great, Dad.” Jack spoke quietly and Cam thought he heard a break in the boy’s voice again, but the line went dead before he had a chance to reply. And he was soon lost in the scene that had been giving him trouble.

It was three o’clock in the morning when his phone rang again. Groggy from a sixteen-hour marathon at his computer and disoriented, he didn’t pick up until it finally penetrated who was speaking on the answering machine.

“Cara, what in hell—”

His ex-wife’s reply was muffled with sobs. Cam sat up then and said in a voice sharp with alarm, “What’s wrong, Cara?”

“It’s—it’s Jack, Cam. Oh, my God, it’s Jack.” She made a small, despairing sound. “He’s gone. Oh God, oh God, oh God, I can’t bear it.”

“What do you mean, he’s gone? He’s run away?”

“C-Cam…”

“Come on, Cara. What about Jack?”

Her voice steadied slightly as she managed to pull herself together. She breathed in and said dully, “Jack is dead, Cam. He’s committed suicide.”

He realized he was still standing on the porch, still focused on the two women with the pain of losing Jack a deep, black hole inside him. His life had been forever changed with that phone call. And what he wouldn’t give to have what Forrester was idiotically jeopardizing. Still, it was none of his business and he’d already broken one of his hard-and-fast rules by even acknowledging Rachel’s situation. He hadn’t expected to find her sitting with her mother when he dropped off Dinah’s jewelry, otherwise he’d have put off returning it. Then he’d compounded his mistake by apologizing. But he’d been out of line attacking her at the ER and he’d been out of line offering advice. Another stupid error. He’d made every mistake in the book handling his divorce and its consequences, so what could he offer that her vast circle of friends and family couldn’t?

He raised the bottle to take another drink and looked thoughtfully across the lawn. He’d honor his promise to the kid to keep an eye on Dinah, he decided as he turned to go back inside, but that was as far as he would go.

When Rachel got home later that day, she found that Ted had moved out. In their bedroom, she stared in shocked disbelief at the empty racks in their closet. By seizing a moment when no one else was in the house, he’d avoided what was sure to be a difficult scene. And he’d left her with the task of dealing with Nick and Kendall when they came home and found their father had cleared out.

She stood with a torrent of emotion roiling in her chest. It was one thing for Ted to tire of her as a wife and to want to avoid all the sticky stuff that women dished out to cheating husbands, but it was sneaky and cowardly to walk out on Nick and Kendall without at least taking a moment to sit down and reassure them that they’d still have a father even though he was no longer in the house with them. By leaving this way, it looked like he was abandoning them along with their mother. That was sure to be the way the kids would feel.

Fury, like nothing she’d ever felt, rose in her. How dare he! Since Friday, when she’d caught him red-handed, she’d managed to keep her emotions under control. Except for a few bewildered tears and some agonizing self-examination, she’d tried to handle his infidelity without unraveling emotionally. She’d told herself that for the sake of the kids she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

But the kids weren’t here right now, she thought, stalking across the room. And she was tired of behaving like the only grown-up in this farce. Stopping at Ted’s armoire, she jerked the doors open. Empty. In the bathroom, she discovered he’d even cleaned out all his toiletries. Moving like a woman possessed, she dashed down the stairs, swept up her purse and car keys and stormed out to her car. It was an hour’s drive to the lake cabin. Chest heaving with rage, she backed out and, with a squeal of tires, drove off to confront him.

Forty minutes later, she was still fuming as she pulled up in front of the cabin. Parking behind the small Porsche she recognized as Francine’s, she got out of her car, deliberately blocking the Porsche. Unlike the scene at the restaurant, this time, if Francine wanted to escape an uncomfortable confrontation, she was out of luck. She couldn’t move her car until Rachel was finished. And if the door was locked, Rachel planned to use her keys and walk right in. She didn’t give a damn if she found them naked and having sex. In fact, she wished exactly that would happen. Catching them in an embarrassing situation would give her unholy satisfaction.

She took the four porch steps in two quick strides and, without knocking, tried the unlocked door and went inside. There was an immediate let-down when she didn’t see them right away in the great room, all of which was visible from the front door. The thought of barging into the bedroom where they might actually be having sex was suddenly too disgusting. But as she stood with some of her anger fading, she heard their voices. They were in the hot tub.

She was flooded with a fresh wave of fury. Ted hated the hot tub. It had been her idea to install it when they’d remodeled the cabin. Ted hadn’t wanted it, had argued against it. The lake was great for fishing and boating, and a swimming pool was impractical in the wooded location, but she’d finally persuaded him that a hot tub was relaxing, even therapeutic after the hours both spent in stressful occupations. It could also be romantic, she’d suggested. That had been around the time she’d sensed Ted’s interest in Wendy at the health club. The hot tub had been one of the little gambits she’d dreamed up to add some spice to their love life. It hadn’t worked for them, she thought, now moving through the cabin to the deck, but apparently it had worked for Ted and Francine.

They actually were naked.

Spotting Rachel, Francine shrieked. Ted turned. His jaw dropped, but surprise quickly changed to irritation. He stood up, scowling, and grabbed two robes lying within reach. Moving in front of Francine, he managed to shield her as she scrambled into it, giving Rachel only a glimpse of her in the buff. Then he climbed out without any obvious haste. Rachel avoided more than a glimpse of his shriveled penis by looking beyond him while he donned a robe. Francine hovered warily just behind him, looking as if she thought Rachel might be armed.

Later, in telling Marta about it, Rachel had found some humor in the situation, but she felt no inclination to laugh now. She knew suddenly with a sick, sad resignation that her marriage was truly over. It would not be possible to get beyond actually seeing Ted with Francine this way.

“What do you mean by barging in here like this, Rachel?” Thanks to Walter, his left eye was puffy and half closed, making his outrage seem almost comical. She could not tell if his nose was broken, but she could always hope.

“Isn’t it obvious, Ted? I’m mad as hell and you’re going to hear about it whether you like it or not.”

“For God’s sake!” he said in disgust. “What does it take to convince you? Didn’t you hear anything I said this morning? I’m in love with Francine. She loves me and we want to be together. We’re going to be together whether you like it or not. Go home and get a life.”

Rachel mastered an urge to leap over the hot tub and scratch his other eye out. “I’m not here because I want anything from you, you thoughtless bastard! I’m here because of the sneaky way you packed up and left. Why didn’t you wait until Nick and Kendall came home so you could at least try to reassure them? Don’t you give a damn about your kids anymore? Is…is this—” she threw her arm out to include the house, the deck, the hot tub, Francine “—all you care about now?”

He looked irritated and anything but repentant. “I was planning on calling them later tonight.”

Fresh from a romp in the hot tub, he was still too dazzled to feel any guilt, Rachel thought. “Are you sure you can spare the time?” she asked sarcastically.

“Give it a rest, Rachel.” He stuck his feet into rubber slides and reached for his Rolex. “I still love my kids and I’ll explain how this happened.”

“How exactly will you explain it, Ted?” she asked, seeing that she wasn’t getting through to him. “Like you explained it to me? One day you and Francine were friends and the next you were having sex together? I think they’ve got that part already, thanks to the scene in our home this morning. And Nick, for one, is mad as hell over it. Kendall is simply bewildered.”

“It’ll take some getting used to, but they’ll be okay with it,” he said, dismissing almost casually something that was going to turn his children’s lives upside down. “That is, unless you go behind my back and paint me as evil incarnate.”

“You know better than that, Ted.”

His face was tight, his eyes hard. “These things happen a lot, Rachel. Probably half Nick and Kendy’s friends are part of blended families.”

“Blended families,” she repeated. “That has such a benign sound, doesn’t it? But I know from dealing with those kids every day that there’s pain and depression and jealousy jockeying for position in ‘blended families.”’ She used her fingers to make quotation marks. “And you don’t have a clue, Ted. So, don’t try to spin the effect of what you’re doing to me. It’s going to be devastating for Nick and Kendy. Even the most amicable divorces do terrible damage to the children involved.”

Ted let out an exasperated breath. “You sound like you’re reading some kind of research paper, Rachel. You’re exaggerating, as usual. You see only the screwed-up kids in your job. Nick and Kendy will be fine.”

Was he really so obtuse? She stared at him, her husband of eighteen years. He seemed totally unaffected by her attempt to bring him to his senses. When had it happened that this man whom she’d known more intimately than any other had become a stranger? “And what if they aren’t, Ted?”

“Ted…” Francine finally spoke, touching his arm. “Any discussion about your kids is between you and Rachel. It doesn’t concern me. Why don’t I—”

“Excuse me?” Rachel gave her an incredulous look. “You claim to be in love with Ted and the two of you want to be together, but you have no concern about the future of his children?”

“I don’t know anything about kids,” Francine said, looking uncomfortable. “Walter and I chose not to have any.”

“Do you even like kids, Francine?”

She shrugged, said nothing.

“What about that, Ted?” Rachel asked.

“What about it?” he repeated with some resentment. “Francine and I haven’t decided on our own future yet, so all this talk about kids is premature.”

“Is it premature to ask you to find an hour away from your love nest to talk to Nick and Kendall?”

“I told you I’m planning on it.”

“Not on the phone. In person. It’s the least you can do.”

“All right, all right.” He reached for Francine and slipped his arm around her waist. “But the next time you get a wild idea to come charging out here, have the decency to knock first.”

Rachel was still furious as she drove away from the cabin. As much as she hated to admit it, Cameron Ford had been right. She needed a lawyer. Worse yet, she must have sounded like a naive twit defending Ted. Well, so be it. Since it was now obvious that she couldn’t protect them from Ted’s callousness, she could at least try to protect the lifestyle they were accustomed to. Knowing time was now of the essence, she picked up her cell phone, punched the information number and asked for a listing for Stephanie Roscoe.

Six

By the middle of the week, the news was all over town that Ted Forrester was having an affair and had left Rachel and the kids. It was impossible for word of the scandal not to reach into every nook and cranny of Rose Hill. Everywhere she went—from church to the grocery store, from the shopping mall to staff meetings at school—Rachel felt herself the object of pitying looks and worse, the morbid curiosity people had about infidelity when it struck someone they knew.

“I feel like an all-too-familiar cliché,” she told Marta in the break room on Wednesday. “I’m the nearly forty, boring wife who’s been dumped for the more exciting, sexy younger woman.” She stirred powdered cream into her coffee. “And you know what, Marta? It happens so often that it doesn’t even shock people anymore. I’m the only one who’s shocked. What they say is true. The wife’s the last to know. What galls me the most is that I should have seen it coming.”

“How could you when you just don’t think that way? And you aren’t boring.” Marta worked at the tab on a can of soda. “Besides, you’d never cheat even if you were bored to death and sexually frustrated to boot. You’d look for solutions.” She stopped with the can at her mouth. “I guess you’re thinking of suggesting counseling to him…or something like that, huh?”

Rachel leaned against the counter holding her coffee. “It takes two, Marta. And Ted’s not interested in trying to save our marriage. He just wants to get on with the transition from husband and father to unfettered bachelor, ASAP.”

“What a guy.”

Rachel stood in silence for a few moments. “I’ve retained a lawyer.”

Eyes wide, Marta set her can down hard. “Now you’ve surprised me. This is good. This is smart. What did he say?”

“She. It’s Stephanie Roscoe. She urged me to be at the bank when it opened Monday morning. I thought Ted probably wouldn’t be devious enough to fool around with our finances without consulting me, but after that scene at the lake, I wasn’t willing to risk taking the chance. Besides, I’d only learned about the affair on Friday and I assumed he wouldn’t have had time to do anything.”

“I think I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Rachel still felt stunned. “But apparently, right after the scene with Walter, he went to a branch of our bank that’s open on Saturday and drew out almost all our ready cash, then he fixed it so that nearly everything else is blocked. So until we work out some agreement for the division of our joint assets, I’m pretty much dependent on what he sees fit to dole out. It’s humiliating to be the object of everyone’s pity now that his affair is public, but this makes it even worse. On top of being infuriated, I’m frustrated as hell, Marta.”

“What happened to ‘I only want a separation,”’ Marta asked, looking openly disgusted.

Rachel’s effort to laugh fell short. “After I ripped into him at the cabin, I think he’s probably rushing to have divorce papers drawn up. Which is fine with me.” She was still furious over the sneaky way he’d moved out, but her tirade had prodded him into facing the kids. He had shown up soon after they came home that day and made a lame attempt to explain why he was leaving. Nick was stoic, for the most part. And Kendall was a little weepy, bless her heart. Rachel had remained silent, and after Ted left, she’d had a hard time keeping her own resentment from showing when they’d plied her with tons of questions.

“What does Stephanie say?”

“That I’m certainly not to sit still and let him take advantage of me. She and I worked out some terms of the separation on Sunday and he was served with the papers Monday morning at the practice.” Making a face, she set her coffee aside. “I’ve tried to reach him ever since, but he’s obviously avoiding me. I just hope there aren’t any other stunning surprises in store.”

Both looked up as the door to the break room opened and Monk Tyson entered.

“Hey, Rachel. Marta. How’s it goin’, gals?” Lifting the coffeepot, he poured himself a cup and turned, propping one hip against the small table, his feet crossed at the ankles.

“Just peachy,” Marta said. “And you?”

“Same here. Couldn’t be better.” Rose Hill’s coach and athletic director looked exactly what he was—an athlete just past his prime. His broad shoulders were a little too thick and he wasn’t as buff as he’d once been. But he was a good-looking man with strong features, very light blue eyes and a full head of sandy-blond hair.

“Morning, Monk.” Rachel was not in the mood for Monk’s chitchat. Just the opposite. He’d ignored the last note she sent him about Ferdy Jordan, one of his athletes who was one point away from academic probation. As a coach, he needed to take a stronger hand in encouraging his athletes academically instead of helping them get around the standards established by the school. It was an ongoing battle between them that she was determined to win for the sake of the athletes.

He leaned against the counter with his coffee and spoke to Rachel. “Hey, I heard about Ted and it stinks to high heaven. What’s wrong with that guy? He’s got steak at home and he wants hamburger instead?” He shook his head. “I hope you don’t let it get you down.”

“I think I’ll survive,” she said coldly. Inside, she cringed with humiliation. She’d had no doubt that all of Rose Hill was buzzing with the scandal, but having Monk chatting about it so casually was particularly embarrassing.