Only Ever You (5 page)

Jill glanced at the dashboard clock. “Sorry, honey, but we don’t have time to go back.”

Sophia kicked and thrashed in the car seat, convulsing like someone receiving electroshock therapy. “Blinky! I need Blinky!” Fat tears rolled down cheeks turning pink with rage. She was quite capable of keeping this up all the way to preschool. Jill’s temples throbbed.

“All right, all right. Settle down! We’ll get him!” She squealed to a stop before making an awkward, and undoubtedly illegal, U-turn in the middle of the road. Cars in both lanes slammed on their brakes and hit their horns, adding to the cacophony. Jill waved a lame apology, racing back down the road toward home, certain she was being a terrible parent, but equally certain that she couldn’t just drop off a sobbing Sophia at preschool.

*   *   *

Alone on the second floor, Bea donned latex gloves and ran a noisy upright back and forth over the plush, cream-colored carpeting. The child’s bedroom was close to the stairs, with a bathroom between it and the master bedroom. Bea ran the vacuum into the room and quickly swept the floor while she surveyed the pale pink walls and white furniture. All of it high-end, of course. Switching off the machine, she ran a gloved hand over the child’s bed, pressing a pillow to her face for a long moment, breathing in the child’s scent. She flitted a dustcloth over shelves filled with toys, most of them neatly tucked into white wicker baskets lined with pink gingham. The young fairy princess walking down a country lane in the wall mural seemed to watch Bea as she plucked several blonde hairs from the soft bristles of a silver-backed brush sitting on the dresser.

*   *   *

Jill peeled back onto Wakefield Drive and pulled the car into the driveway, slamming it in park. Hitting the garage door opener, she exited the car leaving the engine running. Ducking under the slowly rising garage door, she ran back through the kitchen, startling one of the cleaners.

“Did you forget something, Mrs. Lassiter?”

Jill nodded, yanking out each kitchen chair before checking the family room. “Gray stuffed dog—have you seen him?”

“Sorry, no.”

She ran up the stairs to the second floor, dashing into Sophia’s freshly cleaned room, checking the shelves and the floor and dropping down to search underneath the bed. No Blinky, but the cleaners hadn’t vacuumed under there—she’d have to say something, but not today.

Where was the stuffed dog? She should put a homing device on the damn thing. Jill raced out of Sophia’s room and down the hall.

*   *   *

The master bedroom was vast, hotel-like. Bea made the king-size bed quickly—she certainly knew how to do hospital corners—smoothing the deep blue duvet and arranging all the pillows. A pair of men’s trousers had missed the laundry hamper in the walk-in closet and she retrieved them, taking time to check the pockets for anything useful. She wondered where David Lassiter put his things and checked the drawers in the closet until she identified his and hers. Business cards and receipts, a few odd coins. Jill Lassiter had a jewelry drawer, expensive pieces laid out like cold cuts in a deli case, ready for anyone to covet and steal. For a moment Bea considered taking a gold bangle, but something like that would surely be missed; she didn’t need the police after her.

Leaving the vacuum running, she examined the attached master bath. A silk robe hung from a hook on the back of the door. Bea sniffed it, detecting Jill’s perfume, and searched the pockets. She took a few short strands of fair hair left in a comb on David’s sink. She stepped into the massive shower stall, with its stone tiles and dual shower heads, carefully scraping up the dark hairs coiled around the drain.

“Excuse me?” The voice behind her shot Bea’s heart rate into overdrive.

*   *   *

Jill had to shout to be heard over the vacuum. The cleaning woman hunched over in the master shower jerked upright. Jill said, “Sorry to interrupt you, but I’m looking for my daughter’s stuffed dog. Old and gray, obviously well loved. Have you seen it?”

The older woman nodded, stepping out of the shower. “It was on the bed,” she said in a gruff voice, eyes flicking to Jill’s before looking away. One of her eyelids drooped, which she was obviously self-conscious about. Jill tried not to stare at that or at her weirdly asymmetrical black bob. As the older woman brushed past, Jill caught a glimpse of gray hair poking out one side and realized it was a wig. The woman switched off the vacuum as she crossed to the far side of the room. There, on an armchair, sat Blinky. The woman picked the toy up with a latex-gloved hand and held it out to Jill, who tried not to think about the germ transfer.

“Thank you! You’re a godsend!” Jill took Blinky and bolted out of the room, racing back downstairs in a panic. In her annoyance and hurry she’d left Sophia alone in an unlocked, running car. She dashed through the kitchen and out the garage. The car was still there, still running, but the car seat—was it really empty?

“Sophia!” She ducked in the open driver’s door, lunging toward the backseat. “Sophia!”

“Mommy?”

The little voice surprised her. Jill reared up, banging her head against the car’s roof. Through painful fireworks she spotted her daughter crouched on the floor in the rear.

“Oh thank God!” Jill reached for her and Sophia stood up. “What are you doing out of your car seat? You scared me!”

“I want my doggie.”

“I know, here he is, but you’re not supposed to unstrap from your seat, are you?” Jill stretched out like a contortionist to haul her daughter back into the seat and fasten the straps. Sophia clutched her stuffed dog with a sigh that made Jill smile, tear tracks visible on her daughter’s soft little cheeks.

For the second time that morning, Jill backed out of her driveway and headed for Tetterby Preschool. She glanced in the rearview mirror, watching Sophia burying her face in Blinky’s gray “fur.” She should really wash the dog; who knew what that cleaning woman had touched with those gloves?

*   *   *

“Linda?” Rose bellowed from downstairs. “Linda? Are you up there?” Rose’s voice got louder. Bea could hear footsteps clomping up the stairs. She ran to pick up the vacuum wand and cast one last look over the room.

“There you are!” Rose stood in the doorway, looking exasperated. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I didn’t hear you over the vacuum.”

“You should get your ears checked,” the woman snapped. She looked around the master bedroom and gave it a grudging nod of approval. “This will do. C’mon, you can clean the kitchen floor.”

While she mopped the tiles, Bea did a quick search of the kitchen, hitting pay dirt with a spare set of keys buried deep in a drawer. These went straight into her pocket. While the floor dried she did a rapid walk-through of the first floor, taking photos with a small digital camera that she’d hidden in a fanny pack worn under her uniform polo.

Just past the formal living room was a closed door, which turned out to be a study that looked like something out of a film set. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases in deep mahogany, lined with law texts and other works, and a few carefully chosen knickknacks—a crystal paperweight, a plaque from a law association citing David Lassiter as associate of the year, silver frames with pictures of the law school graduate and his wife and child.

An iMac sat on the desk. Password protected, of course, but Bea had read an article suggesting that people weren’t clever enough with their passwords. She tried all the Lassiter names, then several combinations of initials and birthdates. The fifth try worked. Delighted, she searched the browser history and scrolled through David Lassiter’s email account. The door banged opened and Bea quickly put the computer to sleep, pretending to dust around it.

“What are you doing?” Rose stood in the doorway, gloved hands on wide hips. “I’m the one who cleans this room.”

“I didn’t know.” Bea lifted the cloth from the desk, clenching it in her hand. “Where should I clean next?” She locked eyes with the other woman, making her gaze wide and unblinking.

Rose looked away first. “Nowhere. We’re done here—we got to get on to the next house.”

Bea walked ahead of Rose, feeling the other woman’s suspicion like a heat rash. What if she reported her to Mr. Magoo back at the office? Not that it would make any difference. By the time it mattered, “Linda” would be long gone.

chapter six

SEPTEMBER 2013—ONE MONTH

For David the preschool drop-off took no more than five minutes—pull up out front, hand over Sophia to the one of the smiley teachers with a quick hug and kiss, and pull out into the queue exiting the parking lot. For Jill it didn’t work that way. She couldn’t just drop Sophia at the door with the crush of kids; she needed to walk her all the way into her classroom. A process the teachers discouraged because they felt it was disruptive. Even Sophia didn’t like it. “Let go, Mommy!” she said, yanking her hand from Jill’s as soon as they stepped in the door, running ahead of her down the hall to the classroom, still clutching Blinky. Jill followed after her; she knew it was silly, but she had to see Sophia safely into the room before she felt comfortable leaving.

Several female employees stopped Jill on her way out, wanting to know what had happened to David. “He’s not sick, is he?” an aide asked, big eyes round with concern.

“Nope, just busy with work,” Jill said.

“Oh, that’s good.” The young woman smiled. “He’s such a devoted dad.”

And wasn’t Jill an equally devoted mom? She was torn between annoyance and amusement as she hurried toward the main door; David, as always, had managed to charm all of them.

“Mrs. Lassiter? Can we talk?”

Jill turned to see the director of Tetterby Preschool, sixtysomething Mrs. Belmar, bearing down on her. Jill kept one hand on the door, holding out the other to forestall her. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time this morning—”

“Just a quick chat,” the other woman interrupted, beckoning with her hand even as she pivoted, leading the way back down the hall.

Once Jill followed her inside the office, Mrs. Belmar closed the door behind her, muting the sounds of a teacher leading a class in a chirpy, high-pitched good morning song.

“I’m so glad I caught you.” Mrs. Belmar took her seat behind a wooden desk with a few carefully arranged silver-framed family photos and a large African violet in a white glazed pot. “Do you think Sophia enjoys being at Tetterby?” She peered at Jill through thick-framed glasses, short white hair floating around her wide, square face like a cumulus cloud—the only soft thing about her.

“Yes, very much so.” Jill tried to meet the woman’s gaze, but her eyes kept straying to the clock ticking away on the wall behind her. She had an early portrait shoot with a new client and her baby.

“That surprises me given what I’ve been hearing from her teachers.” With large hands, the nails blunt cut and unpolished, Mrs. Belmar fiddled with a string of pearls resting on her chest. “They say Sophia’s been having some trouble.”

“Well, she was a little shy at first, but I think she’s getting over that.”

“Shy?” Mrs. Belmar gave a short, mirthless snort. “Oh yes, I think she’s quite overcome that.”

Jill tensed, finally focusing on the director rather than the rapidly evaporating window of opportunity to make it to the studio on time. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I mean, Mrs. Lassiter, is that Sophia neither listens to her teachers nor her classmates.”

Jill sighed. “I’m sorry. We know she’s strong-willed, but we’re hoping it’s just a phase.”

Mrs. Belmar nodded, a tight smile on her face. “We certainly hope so too, Mrs. Lassiter. We’d hate to lose her.”

“What are you saying? Are you asking her to leave?”

The older woman leaned forward, clasping her hands together on her desk. “What I’m saying, Mrs. Lassiter, is that Tetterby maintains a long waiting list, and if a child hasn’t adjusted to the preschool experience within two months then it’s probably an issue of maturity. Perhaps you should keep her home and try again next year?”

“No!” Jill practically shouted it. What would she do if her daughter were home all day? She’d have to hire a nanny, which they really couldn’t afford, or take Sophia to the studio. Jill would never get anything done. She cleared her throat, continuing more softly, “Please. I know school has been a big adjustment for Sophia, but please give her a little more time. I’ll talk with her; we’ll work on her listening skills.”

Mrs. Belmar pursed her lips for a moment, then sighed. “All right, Mrs. Lassiter. We’ll give it a few more weeks. But if things have not improved by then I’m afraid Sophia will have to leave.”

She walked Jill back up the hallway to the exit, slowing as they passed the three-year-olds’ room. All the children were sitting in a circle listening to the teacher read a story except for Sophia, who was standing alone at the wooden play kitchen with a sulky expression on her face, restlessly turning knobs on the play oven. Mrs. Belmar didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Jill’s anxiety turned up another notch, a slow burn suffusing her body as if she were cooking in the toy oven.

“I hope Mr. Lassiter is okay,” Mrs. Belmar added as she said good-bye. “It’s so nice that he brings Sophia in the morning.”

As she sped out of the parking lot, Jill wondered why men were so often lauded for doing the most basic parenting. Jill was the one who got Sophia ready for school and picked her up every day, who provided the class with snacks when their turn rolled around each month, and who helped out at class parties and on field trips. David never did any of these things; very few fathers did.

Of course, in this case it might not be all fathers being appreciated, but just David, who’d won over the preschool staff with his effortless, boyish charm. She’d seen it happen time and again—older waitresses fawning over him at restaurants, saleswomen and -men gravitating toward him in stores. Even the teenage girls who worked the counter at their local coffee shop rushed to chat with him, always managing to remember his order, but never hers. Worse, all of his charm seemed unconscious. He reacted with a “who, me?” expression if Jill pointed it out.