Perfect Nightmare (2 page)

Dawn didn’t even try to answer Lindsay’s question; they both already knew the answer.

There was nothing either of them could do.

Nothing at all.

Chapter Two

K
ara Marshall’s stomach knotted as she stared at the listing agreement on her dining room table. She didn’t even try to stop herself from picking at the already torn cuticle on her left forefinger. Why bother? Though her nails were about the last thing she had any control over, she’d already pretty much ruined them. She could barely believe the low figure the agent had suggested their beautiful home was worth. When Steve saw it . . .

She didn’t want to think about what he would say.

A blinding flash of light jerked Kara out of her reverie.

“That should do it.” She looked up at Mark Acton, whose professional smile looked phony even as he tried to make it look sincere. “This house photographs beautifully.”

She didn’t respond, and instead looked down again at the array of forms and color brochures on the table as the agent put his camera into its case.

“I’ll just leave the papers with you,” he went on. “I can come back to answer any questions you might have when your husband is home. Do you know when that might be?”

“That’s part of the problem,” Kara said, looking up, wondering even as she spoke why she was telling this perfect stranger—one she’d already decided she didn’t like—things that were none of his business. “I don’t know when he’ll be home. He commutes to the city and sometimes stays over. In fact, he’s hardly home anymore—that’s the main reason we’re selling. Maybe I’d better just call you after we’ve talked this over.”

Acton nodded. “I’ll put these pictures up on our Web site as soon as you and your husband sign the listing.” His voice took on the drone of a rehearsed speech. “Our normal procedure is to keep the listing in-house for two or three days. If it doesn’t get sold by one of our people, I’ll put it into the Multiple Listing Service on Monday and we’ll hold a brokers’ open house on Wednesday to show it to all the agents in the area. Then we’ll have a public open house on Sunday. It’s a wonderful house. I think it will sell right away.”

Though she’d barely heard him, Kara nodded as if following every word. “Good. Okay. I’ll call you.”

Mark Acton pulled a sheet of blue paper from the pile and set it on top. “This is the schedule I just laid out for you. Please initial it when you sign the listing agreement and I’ll put everything into motion.”

Once again she nodded. “Yes, fine.”

Acton picked up his briefcase, and she took that as a cue to usher him to the door. “I’m sure you’ll be more than happy with the marketing our firm will provide,” he said.

That must sound canned even to him, Kara thought. “I’m sure I will,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

As she stood at the door, a car pulled up in front and her daughter got out. Kara watched Lindsay wave to her friend Dawn and to Phyllis D'Angelo, who was driving. “Call me!” Lindsay yelled to Dawn, then passed the agent on her way to the front porch.

Mark Acton nodded to Lindsay, then turned to watch her as she walked up the porch steps.

Kara scowled at him, but if he saw her, he gave no sign. She forced the scowl from her brow, told herself she had to get used to it. Her daughter was seventeen now, and pretty, and men would look at her every day for the next twenty years. Then, seeing the bandage on Lindsay’s wrist, all thoughts of Mark Acton vanished from her mind. “What happened?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Lindsay said, brushing by her and into the house. She dropped her backpack on the foyer floor, and only then held out her hand for the examination she knew there was no way of escaping. “It’s just a sprain. I goofed up a flip at practice.”

“Nothing’s broken?” Kara fretted.

Lindsay pulled her hand away. “No, Mom. I told you, it’s just a sprain.” She tipped her head toward the front door. “Who was that?”

“Just an agent,” Kara said, shrugging dismissively.

Lindsay winced as if she’d been struck. “Don’t I have any say in what this family does?” she asked as she wheeled around and started toward the stairs. Though she’d tried to hide it, Kara saw her daughter’s eyes glistening with tears.

“Lindsay, wait!”

But of course, she didn’t.

When Lindsay vanished up the stairs, Kara looked again at the listing agreement on the dining room table, and had to resist the urge to pick up the forms and brochures and rip them to shreds. She didn’t want to move to the city any more than Lindsay did, but what choice did she have? Being away from Steve so much was destroying their marriage. Still, Lindsay only had a year of school left. Maybe they could find some way to work it out.

But as she unconsciously picked at a different cuticle, she knew there would be no working it out. Not only was the commute killing her marriage, but Steve’s promotion, which required him to be in Manhattan even more, hadn’t been enough to even cover the cost of the tiny apartment he’d rented. In fact, the apartment had turned his raise into just another liability.

So there wasn’t any choice; they had to move.

Kara waited long enough for Lindsay to pour out her tears into her pillow, and as she moved up the curving staircase to her daughter’s room, she realized once more just how much she was going to miss this big house. She’d helped design it, and they’d moved in two weeks before Lindsay was born. The entire history of the family was in this house. Whatever they found in Manhattan would not only be much smaller, but an abandonment of their entire past as well. Could they really do it?

She knocked twice on Lindsay’s door, then opened it a crack. “Linds? Can I come in?”

She took the silence as assent and went inside. It was a quintessential teenage girl’s room, with its neglected but not forgotten stuffed animals and Barbie dolls, new and often replaced posters of buff young men on the walls, stacks of CDs, a computer, and enough makeup to beautify half the women on Long Island.

Kara perched uneasily on the edge of the bed. As she’d suspected, Lindsay’s face was turned away, but the emotional storm seemed to have passed. Lindsay was quiet as she lay facing the wall.

“Honey?” Kara smoothed her daughter’s silky blond hair. “You know we love it here as much as you do. We’d never move if we didn’t have to. I just wish there were another option.”

“Just one more year.” Lindsay’s voice was muffled by the pillow, but her anger was still audible. “Then it won’t matter so much, because at least I’ll have finished school.”

“We can’t make it another year like this,” Kara said. “We can’t keep up both places—it’s too expensive. And your father needs us. We need him.
You
need him.”

“I know,” Lindsay sighed, rolling over to look at her.

Seeing the desolation in Lindsay’s eyes, and hearing the hopelessness in her voice, Kara’s heart nearly broke. The sight of those red, swollen, unutterably sad eyes bespoke every wonderful thing her daughter was—caring, dedicated, loyal. But as she eased a strand of blond hair away from Lindsay’s face and put her cool hand on the girl’s forehead, she could see a change in her eyes.

Abruptly, Lindsay sat up. “What if I move in with Dawn’s family for my last year?” she asked, her expression brightening. “I could come to the city on weekends and for holidays.” Her words tumbled out. “You know, Christmas and stuff.”

“We can ask your father, honey,” Kara said, knowing that Steve would never agree, “but I know what he’s going to say, and so do you.”

Lindsay sagged back down on the pillow, her excitement deflating like a collapsing balloon. “Yeah, I know.”

Kara took her hand. “We’ve talked about this for months—you knew it was coming.”

“I know,” Lindsay sighed, “but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“It’ll be fine,” Kara said, squeezing her daughter’s hand. “You’ll see—it’ll be just fine.”

But even as she spoke the words, Kara wondered how true they would turn out to be.

Chapter Three

S
teve Marshall squinted at the deposition on his desk, but it did no good—he could feel his eyes closing, despite his best intentions. Outside his office window the lights of the city were coming on and the sky had darkened; all that was left of the day was a pale streak at the horizon.

But half the day’s work still lay on the desk in front of him.

He reached over to turn on his desk lamp, hoping the bright light would wash away the exhaustion the onset of dusk had brought. Rubbing his eyes, he turned his gaze from the window to the open door of his office. He could see a few lights still on down the hall, but the overheads had long since been turned off, and not even an echo remained of the hum of the departed staff.

Steve sat back in his chair and stretched—no point leaving until he’d at least finished the deposition he was working on. It looked like he’d have to stay in the city again tonight, even though he promised Kara that he’d be home. He dragged his fingers through his hair, ruefully reflecting that right now he far preferred the pressure on his scalp to that of either his job or his family. Still, tomorrow was Friday, and if he got enough done tonight, he’d knock off at noon and go home for the weekend. Maybe there was something the three of them could do together. Go to a crafts fair or something. He knew Kara would love it, and so would Lindsay, and making them happy had always made him happy, too.

Rubbing his eyes again, he turned his attention back to the deposition. There were at least another fifty pages to slog through, either here or in the cramped joke of an apartment that served as home on the nights when he couldn’t make it back to Long Island.

Might as well be here.

Just as he was getting back into the dry prose of the blandly worded document, the harsh overhead office light went on. He looked up at the janitor who stood in the doorway, his hand on the light switch. “Sorry, sir, didn’t mean to bother you.”

Jesus Christ, can’t he see I’m working?
But when he spoke, Steve did his best not to betray his annoyance. “Can you come back a little later, maybe?”

The janitor shook his head. “This is my last office. I’ll just dump your trash and be gone.”

Steve nodded toward the wastebasket. This guy didn’t look familiar. “You new?”

The man nodded. “Just started today. Didn’t mean to get in your way.” He gathered the plastic bag full of trash, dumped it in the large bin he’d left just outside the door, then replaced the plastic liner in the wastebasket. As he straightened up, his eyes fell on the framed photograph of Steve, Kara, and Lindsay at the beach that had been sitting on Steve’s desk since last summer. “This your family?”

Steve nodded, not even looking up, wishing the man would just go away.

“Nice. Very nice,” the janitor said. “Looks like Long Island.”

“It is,” Steve mumbled.

“Pretty girl,” the janitor said.

Leaning back in his chair, Steve saw that the man’s eyes were now fixed on another of the photos on his desk, this one of Lindsay in her cheerleader’s uniform.

“Very nice,” he said, so softly that Steve wasn’t sure he was even aware he’d spoken out loud. “Beautiful.”

He was about to reply when the phone rang, startling both of them. Nodding almost curtly, the janitor disappeared out the door as Steve picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey,” he heard Kara say, and there was something in her voice that belied her cheerful tone.

“Hi.”

“Are you coming home?”

He sighed. “I don’t see how—I’ve got too much work.”

“You promised.”

He could almost see her struggling not to sound plaintive. “I know,” he sighed. “I tried, but I’ll get out of here early tomorrow and we’ll have the whole weekend. We’ll do something—just the three of us.”

Kara was silent for a second, then: “I was hoping you could be home before Lindsay went to sleep tonight. She’s kind of upset.”

Steve sat up straight in his chair. “Upset? Why? What’s up?”

“She hurt her wrist at cheerleading practice, and then the real-estate agent was here when she got home. I think we all ought to sit down and talk. You know, like a real family?” Kara quickly added, perhaps at hearing the sarcasm in her voice, “I’m sorry—that wasn’t fair. I’m just—well, I just really wish you’d come home tonight.”

“What did the agent say?”

Kara chuckled hollowly. “You won’t like it.”

Steve looked down at the deposition. If he called a driver, he could finish it on the way home. But he couldn’t afford a driver—not with what it cost to keep the apartment. “Kara, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to finish this deposition tonight.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small now, and he knew she wasn’t going to argue anymore, which only made him feel worse.

“Let me see what I can do,” he finally said.

“Okay. ’Bye.”

“ ’Bye.”

He heard her say “Love you” just before he put the phone back in its cradle.

Crap!

First the damn janitor had thrown him off his concentration, and now Kara was angry at him, and he couldn’t blame her.

And Lindsay was hurt and upset, and that made his stomach churn.

And on top of everything else, he was going to hate what the agent had to say.

Enough was finally enough. He glanced down at the deposition one more time, then flipped its cover closed, turned off his desk lamp, and headed for home.

L
indsay dialed up the volume on the iPod her father had given her for her last birthday, but no matter how loud the music coming through the headphones was—even if it drowned out the argument going on downstairs—it couldn’t cover the tension that filled the house.

And it was her fault—all of it.

She grabbed a pillow and pulled her arm back to hurl it at something—anything—but the warning stab of pain in her injured wrist made her change her mind. She dropped the pillow to her chest instead and hugged it, tears of frustration stinging her eyes and clouding her vision. “Grow up,” she told herself.

The song she’d been listening to ended abruptly, and now she could hear her parents’ voices drifting up the stairwell.

Though the anger was clear, the words themselves were not. Not that it mattered; she knew perfectly well what they were arguing about.

Her.

In fact, it seemed that all they did anymore was argue. But until tonight, it had been mostly about her father’s new job, and the little apartment he had to rent in the city, and the fact that so many nights he couldn’t make it home at all.

But their argument now was focused on her, and with every angry sound she heard, she felt worse. All she wanted was for everybody to be happy, and even without hearing what they were saying, she knew that nobody in the house was happy.

She lay on her bed, listening to the muffled words as long as she could stand it. She heard her mother’s voice rising, but her father’s voice stayed steady.
What’s happening?
she wondered.
What’s Mom yelling about?
And even though part of her wanted to clamp the pillow against her ears, shutting out the sound of her parents’ argument, she knew she couldn’t.

No matter how much it hurt, she had to know what they were saying. Putting the iPod on the nightstand, Lindsay got up from the bed, opened her bedroom door and listened.

“Y
ou’re asking too much of her,” Kara said for what she was certain must be at least the third time, if not the fourth or fifth. She was perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, and could see by Steve’s expression that she looked every bit as shrill as she knew she was starting to sound. But how many times did she have to go over all this before he would actually
hear
her? “She’s only seventeen years old, and you’re asking her to give up everything. I know being on the cheerleading squad doesn’t mean much to you, but so what? She’s your daughter, Steve! And it’s not just cheerleading! You’re asking her to move away from all her friends—friends she’s known since kindergarten—and start all over again in a new school where she doesn’t know
anybody.
And it’ll be her senior year. Believe me, I remember what it was like when I was her age. The cliques are formed, and they’re rock solid. There won’t be any room for Lindsay.”

Steve spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said, his own voice starting to rise, though not as much as hers. “There just doesn’t seem to be any other answer. We can’t afford—”

“Another year,” Kara broke in. “Let’s stay here just until she graduates.” Seeing his expression harden, her voice rose another notch. “For heaven’s sake, Steve—the real estate market is down so badly, we’d only get about three-quarters what we would have gotten a year ago, and you know as well as I do that even though the market’s dropped out here, it hasn’t in Manhattan. We’ll be lucky if we can afford a tiny little two bedroom, and you better believe it won’t have more than one bath!”

Steve shook his head and picked up the glass that sat on the table next to his chair, downing the last of the scotch in a single gulp. “We’ve been over the numbers, Kara,” he said, his voice taking on a steely edge. “We can’t afford to keep this house and pay for the apartment, too. We have to get a place in the city that’s big enough for all three of us.”

“But we won’t get enough for this place,” Kara insisted. Hadn’t he heard anything she said?

Steve set his empty glass on the end table and ran his hands through his hair. “I thought we’d already had this whole conversation.”

“That was before I met with the agent,” Kara shot back. Seeing Steve’s eyes narrow angrily, she added, “And it was before I watched Lindsay’s heart break.”

“She’s young,” Steve said, his voice taking on a tone she’d only heard him use in court when he was trying to make a point to a recalcitrant witness. “She’ll survive. In a year she’ll be off to college anyway. Frankly, I don’t understand why—”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” she suddenly flared. “This isn’t a case you’re defending! It’s your family! And moving to the city is not the best thing for your family. Remember when we first decided to have kids? We said we’d always put their best interests first.”

“And what’s best for her—for all of us—is that we start living together like a family again,” Steve shot back. “You know—having dinner together every night, with me actually coming home? How many times have we had dinner together in the last week? In the last month?”

“Whose fault is that?” Kara demanded, almost able to taste the bitterness in her voice.

Steve’s eyes glinted. “That’s a cheap shot, Kara. If I’m going to be the sole provider for this family, then maybe this family needs to rally around a few of my needs, okay?”

Kara felt what little control she still had over her emotions start to slip away. “This family does nothing but cater to your needs,” she said, her voice rising yet higher. “All we ever do—”

She was interrupted by a new voice.

A voice even louder and more furious than her own.

“Stop it!” Lindsay yelled. “Just stop it!”

Kara’s breath caught in her chest, and Steve looked as if he’d been struck. Both of them looked toward the stairs to see Lindsay, clad in her pajamas, her wrist wrapped in an Ace bandage, tears streaming down her face. “Just stop it!” she cried again. “I can’t stand your arguing anymore! I thought—” Her voice broke and she raised her hands to cover her face as her body began to shake.

“Whoa, kitten,” Steve said, quickly getting up and going to her. Sobbing, Lindsay fell into his arms. “Take it easy.”

Kara thought her heart would break as she watched them, and the anger she’d felt toward Steve only a moment ago dissolved as she saw him comforting their daughter.

“It’s just an argument,” he said. “It doesn’t mean anything at all. Your mother and I love each other and we both love you even more.” He held her, stroking her hair as she cried. Slowly, he guided her to the sofa, where they sat down next to Kara.

Kara took Lindsay’s hand. “I’m sorry, darling,” she said. “We’re just trying to work out what’s best for everybody.”

“Everybody,” Steve echoed, looking pointedly at Kara, “because we’re a family. And we all agree we need to be together—we’re just trying to figure out the best way to accomplish that.”

“You need to stop arguing,” Lindsay said, sniffling and wiping away a tear with the back of her good hand. “I—I just can’t stand it.”

“I’m sorry, kitten,” Steve said.

“It’s okay,” Lindsay said, but with a catch in her voice. Beseechingly, she looked first at her father, then her mother. “We can move, okay? I’ll adjust. Just don’t fight anymore, all right?”

Steve gave her a hug. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world, sweetie. It’ll be all right, I’m telling you. You’ll
like
living in the city. It’s an exciting place.”

Kara gazed uncertainly into Lindsay’s eyes. “You’re sure?” she asked. “You’re not just saying it’s okay because we were arguing?” Lindsay hesitated, then nodded. “Okay,” Kara sighed. “I’ll call the agent and tell him we’re signing the listing. They can start doing their thing, and we’ll see what happens.”

Steve nodded. Lindsay was sitting with her head down now, her hands in her lap, and as he watched, a tear rolled down her cheek and fell onto her pajamas. “Tell you what,” he said, lightening his tone. “Let’s go into the city on Sunday. We’ll look at some places—maybe hit some open houses and see where we might like to live.” He tipped Lindsay’s face up so she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “We might get lucky and find the perfect place. Something we all love.”

“And we can have lunch at that Thai place on West Sixty-seventh,” Kara said. “Remember their cabbage salad?”

Lindsay nodded, sniffling once more, but her eyes were no longer flooding with tears.

Kara gave her a nudge. “And we’ll go shopping at Bergdorf's.”

“Whoa,” Steve interrupted. “This is a trip for—”

“Shopping at Bergdorf's,” Lindsay broke in, a smile lighting her face.

Steve threw his hands up in mock resignation. “Okay—I get it. I’m outnumbered. Again.”