The Second Silence (5 page)

As she stepped into the vestibule, the hum of conversation floated toward her. She glanced about at the rough stone walls and low-beam ceilings lit by candlelight and nodded to an older couple seated at a table near the captain’s station, a stout gray-haired man and his equally stout wife. They looked vaguely familiar. Where did she know them from? Robert would have been annoyed at her for not remembering, she thought.

She spotted him at a table by the window. Catching sight of her at the same time, he rose and began winding his way toward her. Despite herself, she was struck by how handsome he looked. His tailored charcoal suit hugged his muscled frame like a glove. His brown hair shone with gold and silver highlights as he ducked to clear a spotlit beam. And she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Heads turned to follow his progress. Eyes flickered with admiration and envy.

For a brief moment Noelle felt as she had on their first date: privileged merely to be in the company of such a man. As if she, too, were bathed in the glow he cast.

But she knew what the others didn’t: that the bright charm could be flicked off as abruptly as a light switch, followed by either silent coldness or a stream of criticism. Her dress was too short or too long. She was wearing too much makeup. At the party the night before she’d talked too much or hadn’t been lively enough. And for God’s sake, wasn’t there something she could do about that
hair?

‘Grant, how’s the rib eye tonight?’ Robert stopped to greet the mayor, Grant Iverson, clapping him on the shoulder in a gesture of easy familiarity that wasn’t lost on the diners who glanced their way. Iverson and his blade-thin blond wife, Nancy, beamed up at him, their smiles stretching to include Noelle.

‘Bloody, the way I like it.’ The mayor chuckled, a stocky man in his early fifties with heavy jowls bracketing a toothy grin who reminded her of the Cowardly Lion in
The Wizard of Oz.
He nodded in her general direction. ‘Noelle, nice to see you out and about. Robert tells me you’ve been under the weather lately.’

‘Actually, it’s my grandmother—’

But he was already turning back to Robert. Dropping his voice, he growled, man to man, ‘Out celebrating, eh? You son of a gun. You actually pulled it off.’

Robert shrugged modestly. ‘It could have gone either way.’

‘Like hell.’ Iverson winked broadly.

Nancy lifted her glass, square-tipped ruby fingernails twinkling against the deeper hue of the wine, wine that, in the old days, Noelle would have had to put away a whole bottle of to get through an evening like this. ‘Here’s to the man of the hour.’

Noelle fixed a smile in place, as if she’d known what they were talking about. Clearly some business deal had been successfully concluded. With Robert, there was always a deal in the works, one that depended on long-standing relationships with men such as Iverson, who, let’s face it, wouldn’t be sitting here—not on his fat expense account as mayor, at least—had it not been for the Van Dorens’ support.

As they sat down at their table, she glanced out the window at the floodlit water sliding smooth as practiced lies over the millrace. She could see her reflection in the glass-hollowed eyes, a sharp-boned face surrounded by a cloud of black hair that seemed to flow out into the darkness beyond. Noelle offered up a tiny prayer:
God, help me get through this.

‘What was that all about?’ she asked, arranging her features in what she hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression.

‘The new superhighway. They voted on it up in Albany, just this afternoon as a matter of fact. Twenty million in state funds, with tax incentives for local linkups.’ He grinned in triumph.

‘Congratulations,’ she murmured. She didn’t have to ask to know the Burns Lake exit would be within shouting distance of the mall he was building.

‘Iverson’s in pig heaven just
thinking
of all those tax dollars. Look at him.’ She caught a note of scorn in his voice for the man whom moments before he’d been heartily clapping on the shoulder.

Noelle wondered what her father’s reaction would be. Out of respect for her, Dad had been fairly restrained in the pieces the
Register
ran on Van Doren & Sons. But their brand of progress—the kind that razed historic buildings and erected lakeside condos and malls where unspoiled tracts of woodland had stood—had been chafing at him for years, she knew. Her divorce would be just the excuse he needed to begin firing with both barrels.

The waiter appeared, a slender young man with a crew cut so blond she could see the pink outline of his scalp. They both ordered their usual: diet Pepsi for her, scotch and soda for Robert.

While they were waiting for their drinks, Robert reached across the table and took Noelle’s hand. ‘I would have ordered champagne, but it’s never the same drinking it alone.’

She frowned and withdrew her hand to fuss with her napkin. Why was Robert waxing nostalgic about her drinking? He’d poured her into bed too many times to remember those days fondly. And why was he acting as if yesterday’s conversation hadn’t even taken place?

She forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘This morning Emma asked how much longer we were staying with Nana, and I told her the truth: that we weren’t going home.’

The smile dropped from Robert’s face. He picked up the knife beside his plate, idly examining it. Pinpoints of reflected light spun and flashed on its polished blade. ‘What did she say to that?’

‘She was afraid you’d be mad.’ Noelle’s throat tightened as she recalled her five-year-old daughter peering up at her in confusion, blue eyes filled with tears.

He cast her a sharp glance. ‘Christ, Noelle,’ he swore softly. ‘What did you expect? Did you think I’d be
happy
about all this?’

She hesitated before replying, ‘No, of course not. But is it really that big of a change? We hardly ever saw you as it was.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything.’

He glared at her, then let out a breath. ‘Okay, you have a point. I know I haven’t been around much lately. Between the mall and Sandy Creek … well, you know how it is.’ He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. ‘But dammit, you’re right, I
should
have been paying more attention to you and Em. Then maybe I wouldn’t have had to get hit over the head to be reminded of what really counts.’ His homespun humility was almost sickening in its insincerity.

She refrained from asking how much of his precious time had been taken up with Jeanine. Coolly she said, ‘Why don’t we stick to discussing Emma?’

He sat back, clearly put out that she wasn’t falling for the Hallmark routine. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘How does two nights a week and every other weekend sound?’

‘Just dandy. For
you.’
Robert bared his teeth in a cheerless smile.

Noelle shivered as if caught in a sudden draft. When their drinks arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the chilled glass. Gathering her courage instead, she said, ‘I’m sure we’ll want to discuss this with lawyers at some point. I just thought, well, for the time being…’

She dropped her eyes to the candle flickering in its ruby glass holder. It reminded her of when she was little, praying in church. Her prayer had never varied: that one day her mother would be there to tuck her in
every
night, not just on the rare occasions when Mary was around. It wasn’t like that with her and Emma. Noelle felt a pang at the thought of being separated from her daughter, even for one night.

‘You’re right about lawyers—it’s much too soon for that. So I guess that doesn’t leave me much choice. If I have any chance of winning you back, I’ll have to go along.’ His expression was smooth, considering. She must have looked surprised because he gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Were you afraid I’d make a scene? Really, darling, you know me better than that.’

‘Let’s just say you’re used to getting your way.’ It wasn’t an insult. Robert took pride in the fact.

‘I have no intention of shirking my responsibility toward either you or my daughter.’ He lifted his scotch tumbler to his mouth, eyeing her over its rim.

She felt her neck and face grow warm. Money was a touchy subject for her, mainly because she had none of her own. Noelle sometimes thought she’d been happiest as a teenager, working summers and on school holidays at the
Register.
But what had been the good of all those high hopes of a career in journalism when all she had to show for it was a handful of freelance articles published in magazines no one had even heard of?

‘You’ve always been generous.’ She wasn’t gilding the lily about that, at least.

‘You’re the mother of my child. Nothing could ever change that.’ He picked up his menu. ‘Shall we order now … or after you’ve checked up on Emma?’

She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. Was this a test of some kind? Noelle chafed at the idea that she had anything to prove as far as her mothering was concerned. On the other hand, Robert was used to her being overprotective—the legacy of her own mother’s benign neglect, she supposed.

‘Aunt Trish is baby-sitting,’ she said. ‘I’m sure everything’s fine.’

‘I’m sure it is, too.’

But the seed had been planted, and after a minute or so Noelle began to grow restless. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Just a quick call to say good-night.’

She excused herself, but when she phoned home, it was her grandmother who answered. Nana reported that Trish and Emma were engaged in a heated game of old maid. Emma of course would be up way past her bedtime, but that was Aunt Trish for you. Noelle had to smile. In some ways her aunt was as much a kid as Emma.

By the time she returned to the table, Robert was already on his second scotch and soda. She hadn’t touched her Pepsi and reached for it now.

‘I should have saved my quarter.’ Noelle smiled, sipping her drink. ‘Emma was too busy to come to the phone. It looks as if my aunt is turning her into quite the little card sharp.’

‘She’s a smart kid.’

‘Too smart for her own good sometimes.’ Noelle was remembering how when Emma was only three, she’d figured out a way to climb onto the kitchen counter where the cookie jar was stored: by pulling open the oven door to use as a stepstool. ‘She’s a bit of handful for Nana right now.’

‘Knowing your grandmother, she’d be the last to admit it.’ He chuckled. ‘Speaking of which, what’s the latest word from the good doctor?’

She felt a prickle of irritation, not liking the tone with which he referred to Hank Reynolds—as if a country doctor were beneath his consideration. ‘She’s doing about as well as can be expected.’ Noelle hadn’t told him of her grandmother’s decision to refuse further treatment. He wouldn’t understand … and probably wouldn’t care.

Several minutes later another waiter, a sallow-faced middle-aged man with an elaborate comb-over, appeared to take their orders. As Noelle peered at the menu in the dim light, its spidery print swam before her. She blinked, struggling to bring it into focus. All at once she felt light-headed, tipsy almost. A wave of panic, a knee-jerk reaction from the years when a night out had been little more than an excuse to get drunk, swept over her.

‘Darling, are you all right?’ Robert’s face loomed close.

‘Right as rain.’ One of Nana’s favorite expressions, which struck her as silly all of a sudden. What was right about rain? It was cold and spoiled everything; it made her hair frizz. She began to giggle uncontrollably, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Robert eyed her with the same patient, long-suffering expression she remembered from the old days, but there was something different about it now, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Absently she rubbed her arm, recalling his steely grip on her elbow, the thousand and one times he’d had to steer her out of a restaurant or party, all the while smiling and chatting as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

‘Are you sure? You look pale,’ he said.

The room reeled. She had to clutch hold of the table to keep from tipping out of her chair. ‘It must be something I ate.’ But lunch was hours ago, and she hadn’t had a bite since.

‘Either that, or a bug you picked up. Half my crew is out sick with the flu.’ He covered her hand with his, and this time she didn’t pull away. The room was revolving slowly, dreamily, like a carousel. ‘Come on, I’ll take you home. Can you make it to the car?’

‘I—I think so.’ But when she stood up, the floor rocked beneath her, and she immediately plopped back down again. She leaned over and whispered fiercely, ‘Robert, what’s wrong? What’s happening to me?’

‘You’ll be fine. We’ve got to get you home, that’s all.’

She nodded, her head bobbing like a balloon on the end of a string. It dawned on her that she’d heard those words before. It was exactly what Robert used to say when she was too drunk to manage on her own. Yet she hadn’t touched a drop.

He slipped something in my drink. He must have.

In some small, still corner of her mind an alarm bell was going off. She opened her mouth to call for help, but it was too late. The room appeared to be closing in on her, as if she were viewing it through a rapidly narrowing lens. The light was fading as well, leaving only a velvety grayness pricked with starry points of light. The last thing Noelle saw, as she slipped from her chair onto the floor, was the all-too-familiar look of disgust on the middle-aged waiter’s sallow, peering face.

CHAPTER 2

‘MARY, WE’VE GOT THE CHANNEL TWO VAN
pulling up front, CNN at the door, and a lady with her head in the sink screaming that her scalp is on fire.’

The cell phone sizzled with static, Brittany’s voice fading in and out like the distant chirping of some frantic bird. Mary indulged in a moment’s worth of panic. But when she spoke, her voice was calm. ‘Can you hold them off, Brit? Five minutes, that’s all I ask. I’m at Park and Fifty-ninth, and it looks like the traffic is finally moving.’

‘Will do.’ Brittany’s cynical laugh broke free of the interference. ‘Hey, I just flashed on tomorrow’s
Post.
SOCIALITE SUES SALON
. Talk about publicity!’