She didn't give the building another glance as she sprinted past Cole, leading the way to the end of the path that stopped under the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was actually red, not gold, but it was awesome and inspiring in its construction. The Pacific Ocean flowed under the bridge and into the bay, the gateway to the west.
The wind whipped her hair out of its ponytail as she bent over to catch her breath and stretch out her legs. Cole stopped just a few feet away from her, his own breath steaming up the morning air. She hadn't beat him, and she hadn't lost him. What was she supposed to do with him now?
She straightened up, and said, "Why are we together?" the words bursting out of her mouth before she could stop them.
His gaze was steady. "Because of the book. I need to know what happened."
"I can't tell you what happened."
"You can help me find out."
"Believe me, I want to know as much as you do, but I don't think we're ever going to find out. No one was with Emily when she fell. No one saw her fall. The police asked everyone who was there those very questions."
His gaze didn't waver. "But there was someone there. There had to be. Malone mentions a number of people talking to Emily that night, people who claimed the opposite."
Natalie had noticed that, too, but since so much of what she was accused of was false, she didn't know what to believe. "He could have made it up like the other things he made up."
"Or someone didn't tell the truth. Did Laura say anything after I left yesterday?"
"No. She seems as confused as I am."
"What about Drew?"
"Laura said she hadn't had a chance to tell him about the book yet."
"Maybe he already knows. Drew was there. He wasn't just dating Laura; he was friends with you and Emily. Think about it, Natalie. Was there anyone who knew as much about the four of you as Drew did?"
"I guess not," she said slowly. "I've never given it much thought."
"Well, think about it. Drew was at the party that night. He was privy to a lot of personal conversations and information."
"That's true. Emily and I actually met Drew first. We were all in a chemistry class together freshman year. We worked on some group projects."
"So he knew you from the beginning, when you lived in the dorm."
"Yes, but I was never that close to him. There was something fake about him. I didn't really trust him."
Cole nodded. "I thought the same thing the few times I met him. What about Emily? What did she think of him?"
"She liked him. He made her laugh. They were good friends, at least until Drew and Laura hooked up our sophomore year." Natalie paused, thinking about the equation Cole was putting together. "It doesn't make sense, though. Why would Drew help someone write a book about us and call it fiction? He's married to Laura. And she's not happy about being in the story. She also said Drew is a lawyer now with an eye on a political career. I can't see how he could possibly be involved in this."
"All good points. None of it makes sense," Cole replied. "But we have to start somewhere. I think we should pay Laura and Drew a visit today."
There was that we again. Natalie didn't want to spend more time with Cole, but she also didn't want him talking to Laura and Drew without her. If Drew had something to do with the book, Natalie wanted to be there to ask him about it. "All right. I'll call Laura when we get back."
"I have a better idea. Don't call. It's always better to catch your enemies off guard."
"Laura and Drew aren't my enemies."
"Well, someone is, Natalie, otherwise you wouldn't be the villain of this book."
He had a point. "True."
"Ready to head back now?"
"Let's go a different way," Natalie said, preferring to avoid any more trips down memory lane.
Cole raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the way we came?"
"Been there, done that," she said pointedly, leaving him to take that in whatever way he wanted.
Laura opened the door to Drew's study, not surprised to see her husband sitting at his desk in front of his computer. Work was his passion, whether he was at home or in his law office, and the fact that it was Sunday made absolutely no difference. He'd obviously been working since the early morning. The shades were still drawn, the room dark save for the desk lamp illuminating a circle of light over the computer and Drew's golden blond hair.
Drew's dark blue eyes were focused on the screen. She didn't know whether to be impressed by his powers of concentration or irritated that she was so invisible to him. Walking farther into the room, she shut the door behind her with a decisive click. Drew's head snapped up, a scowl on his handsome face.
"What do you need?" he asked sharply.
"I thought you might want to take a break, have some lunch."
"I'm busy. I have a lot to do before I leave tonight."
She'd forgotten he was flying to L.A. later in the evening for a three-day business trip. He'd been in and out of town so much in the past six months, she felt as if their house was more of a pit stop than a home. "I hardly see you anymore," she murmured.
His frown deepened. "Laura, I really don't have time for this."
"Time for what? Time for me?" She hated the way her voice came out whiny and desperate, but it was too late to take back her words.
"It won't always be like this, but if I want to make partner, I have to put the time in now. Your father has very high standards. I hope you can understand that."
"I do." She especially understood the part about her father having high standards. Lord knows, she'd never been able to live up to them. No wonder Drew was so stressed all the time. Feeling guilty, she walked around the corner of the desk to give him a neck rub.
"What are you doing?" he snapped, hitting a button on the computer to shut down the screen.
"I'm going to rub your neck."
"I appreciate the thought, but I really need to concentrate."
"On what?" She stared at the now dark screen and wondered why he didn't want her to see what he was working on. "You're being awfully secretive, Drew."
"I have to protect the privacy of my clients."
"From your wife?" She slipped in front of him, leaning against the edge of the desk. "You can trust me."
"It's not about trust."
She wanted to ask him what it was about, but not now, not here, while he was so obviously distracted. "Take a break, Drew. There's a free concert in the park. We could take a blanket, make a picnic. It would be fun."
"I don't have time. Didn't I just tell you that? And don't you have something more important to do than make a picnic and listen to some band?"
She had a million things to do to keep their lives running like a well-oiled clock, but at the moment she didn't feel like focusing on laundry, bills, the kids' homework, the latest PTA project, or cleaning the house. She wanted to talk to Drew away from the house and work. She wanted to talk to him about the book, about seeing Natalie and Cole. Before she could say so, Drew's cell phone rang.
He immediately picked up with a brisk, "Hello." His expression softened. His mouth curved into a smile. Then he laughed. Laura couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him laugh. "You're the best, Valerie. I owe you." He paused. "I'm sure you will collect. Hang on a second." He put his hand over the phone and turned to Laura. "This is going to take a while. Do you mind?"
She did mind—not because he wanted to finish a work call from one of his associates, but because Valerie Cain had put a smile on her husband's face. "We need to talk, too."
"Later. All right?"
Did she have a choice? As Laura left the study, she was tempted to eavesdrop, but she forced herself to shut the door behind her. She had to trust her husband. Trust was the basis of a good marriage. It wasn't as if Drew even had time to have an affair. He worked twelve hours a day. Of course,
Valerie was also at work. Didn't most affairs happen in the workplace?
She had to stop thinking this way. Drew wasn't being unfaithful. Just because they didn't sleep together all that much didn't mean anything. They'd been together ten years. The frequency of sex often fell off after that amount of time. Didn't it?
Had she done something wrong? She kept a nice house. She put healthy dinners on the table every night. She tried to keep Drew's home life smooth and trouble free. Had she gained too much weight? She knew she was up ten pounds from when they'd first married, but she tried to eat right and exercise, and she always dressed well. Maybe she should get liposuction or Botox. Pausing by the hall mirror, she frowned at the little lines around her eyes and mouth. Maybe she was starting to look old. She was almost thirty, not the nineteen-year-old girl Drew had fallen in love with. Or maybe it was all in her imagination. Who knew what went on in Drew's mind these days? She certainly didn't.
With a weary shake of her head, she walked up the stairs and checked on her daughters, who were supposed to be reading. Instead they were squabbling over their dollhouse. "Books, girls," she said sharply. She had a rule that the girls practice their reading every day for at least an hour. They both muttered something under their breaths, but the books came out from beneath the bed.
Laura continued down the hall to her bedroom. She'd decorated the room in pretty pastels and floral patterns that were supposed to calm and soothe, but today the flowers only made her feel tense and irritated. Her mother would tell her she had nothing to complain about. She had a husband, a house, children. Those were the things she had been trained to want her entire life, because as her parents had told her on numerous occasions, she hadn't been blessed with an enormously high IQ like her two older sisters. Her father had even joked when he'd sent her off to college that she better come back with her Mrs. degree. And she had done just that. Sometimes she wondered if she had been so desperate to have a man that she'd rushed Drew down the aisle. Not that she hadn't loved him—she had, and she still did.
But since she'd run into Natalie and Cole at the bookstore yesterday, she'd felt a sense of restlessness and yearning for more. Natalie was a doctor. Cole ran the San Francisco Tribune. Drew was working toward becoming partner. Everyone she had known in college was doing something important with their lives. Except for her. Not that being a mother wasn't important. She knew it was. She knew she was good at it, too. Her girls were well behaved, nicely dressed. She volunteered at school and in the community. But was this really all she was meant to do?
In college she hadn't just gotten a Mrs. degree, she'd also gotten a BA in music. Why hadn't she done anything with that? She'd once wanted to play her flute in a symphony orchestra. Now it was gathering dust somewhere in the depths of her bedroom closet. She couldn't remember the last time she'd played. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten excited about something that was only for her and not for her daughters or for her husband.
Seeing Natalie again had brought back memories and old feelings. Laura had caught a glimpse of the girl she used to be. For that short time in college when she was a member of the Fabulous Four, she'd explored sides of herself she hadn't known existed. Madison, Natalie, and Emily had introduced her to new activities, challenged her, dared her, and supported her in whatever she wanted to do. She'd read books, debated politics and religion, taken art classes, and played her flute in a college orchestra. Those girls had convinced her that she wasn't as dumb as her parents had always led her to believe. Maybe she didn't get straight A's. Maybe she couldn't figure her way out of a math problem, but she could do other things. She was creative and musical. She was more than just her low IQ scores.
She'd thought marrying Drew would free her from her parents' expectations, but she'd only traded their expectations for his. And deep down inside of herself, she had a terrible feeling that she'd married a man just like her father, a person who put more value on material things and accomplishments than on character, kindness, compassion, and being a good person.
How had she let that happen?
She knew how. Because her parents had loved Drew from the very beginning. Her father had taken him under his wing, helped him get into the right law school, and offered him a job after graduation. Drew was the son they had always wanted, making up for their disappointing daughter. She'd finally done something right.
But somewhere inside this perfect life she'd created, she'd lost a piece of herself. She'd become a slave to daily rituals, to organized living, to bills and taxes and the same sitcom television shows every night. She'd come to accept scraps of attention from her husband, always hiding her worries and troubles from the other wives with whom she kept company.
Sitting down on the bed, she took care not to disturb the pillows she'd fluffed that morning, then realized the absurdity of it all. She couldn't even let herself be free to smash the pillows on her own bed. In a burst of anger at herself, she trashed her bed, pulling off the quilt, the blankets, the sheets, the pillows, until they were tangled in one big mess. She felt only marginally better.
Walking into the closet, she reached past her clothes and shoes and other belongings, feeling the top shelf with her hand for the familiar shape of a black musical case. She pulled it down, and a flurry of dust made her sneeze. Maybe she wasn't as good a housekeeper as she thought. But inside, the silver flute sparkled with promise. Laura felt a rush of excitement at the sight of her old friend.
She knelt down on the floor of the closet and pulled out the pieces of her flute. She lovingly put it together, taking a moment to stroke her fingers against the smooth, polished metal. Could she still play? Would she sound horrible? Did she even want to try?
Insecurity made her hesitate. Did she really want to know if she could still do this? Wouldn't it be better to just leave her head buried in the sand?
She closed her eyes for a moment and Emily's image came into her head.
"You should play in a band," Emily said, as Laura put down her flute, the last note still lingering in the air.
"I'm not good enough. And it doesn't pay anything."
"It makes you happy. That's what's important."
"Happy is not what it's about. Success, achievement, that's what's important. Everyone knows that making a living in music is next to impossible."
"Life isn't just about making money. It's about doing something that you love. Don't sell yourself short, Laura. Don't let someone else define who you are. You and I are a lot alike. We've both spent way too much time looking out the window, watching everyone else have fun. It's our turn now. I have my health—finally. And you're away from your parents and all the people who have you convinced that every moment should be spent in the pursuit of future happiness. I say we concentrate on being happy right now and let the future take care of itself. After all, everyone says this is the best time of our lives. Let's make that the truth."
It had been the best time of her life, Laura thought, as she opened her eyes and stared at the flute. Maybe she should take Emily's advice and stop worrying so much about the future and concentrate on the now. So what would Emily do? The answer suddenly seemed very clear. She pressed her lips against the mouthpiece and blew. The squeaking sound was terrible in terms of music, but incredibly rewarding. She relaxed and began to play. The notes came out of her head, her heart, her soul. She didn't know how long she'd been playing until she saw two small, very astonished faces peering around the closet door.
"What are you doing, Mommy?" six-year-old Jennifer asked.
"Can I play?" seven-year-old Suzanne added. "It sounds so pretty."
"You're really good," Jennifer continued.
Her heart swelled. Her daughters thought her music sounded pretty and that she was good. She blinked back a silly tear and laughed. "I think it's time you two learned how to play."
"Today?" they echoed with excitement.
"Yes, today, but later," she said, making a sudden decision. "First I want you to hear what really good music sounds like. Go get your shoes and sweaters. We're going to the park."
"No one is home," Natalie said, as the door to Laura's house remained closed. "So much for your surprise-attack strategy." She took a step back to gaze at the two-story salmon-colored Mediterranean villa, which fit in perfectly with the other well-built, well-designed homes in this upscale neighborhood thirty minutes south of San Francisco. "Laura and Drew have certainly done well for themselves."
"It's not bad for a house in the suburbs," Cole replied. "I prefer the city."
Natalie did, too. Or maybe she was just more used to an urban environment. The last time she'd lived in a house like this, actually a more modest version of a house like this, had been when her father was alive. After his death, she and her mother had moved into a series of apartments, sometimes sharing one with her aunt or some guy her mother hooked up with.
"Maybe they didn't hear the bell. It's a big place." Cole pressed down on the bell three times in succession. It was so loud Natalie thought the neighbors could probably hear it.
The door suddenly flew open. She jumped back as Drew appeared in the doorway, looking none too pleased to see them. Dressed in tan slacks and a long-sleeved button-down white shirt, he appeared conservative and businesslike, a far cry from the laughing, flirtatious playboy who'd worn faded blue jeans, tank tops and flip-flops. Aside from the blond hair and the golden tan, that guy had completely disappeared.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" Drew muttered, staring at them for a long moment.
Natalie wasn't sure how to respond. She couldn't really blame Drew for being angry. It had been ten years since they'd seen each other, and now they'd shown up out of the blue. It was no wonder he was taken aback.
"Can we come in?" Cole asked.
Drew stepped back and motioned for them to enter. The inside of the house was just as beautiful as the outside, Natalie thought, noting the polished hardwood floor in the entry, the fine detail work on the staircase banister, the arched doorways leading into the living room and dining room. Drew waved them toward the living room where a grand piano took up one corner. The rest of the room was decorated with antique furniture and carefully chosen vases, lamps, and side tables. Everything matched, right down to the strip of wallpaper that ran along the crown molding and the floral curtains that covered the windows.