The Second Man (16 page)

“Sorry, I was mistaken.” Max turned to Jill. “By the way, Marissa also told me that she cleaned out my dorm room after the car accident, and brought the boxes to the hospital on orders of my mother. I never heard anything about that before, did you?”

“What? No. I never heard that.” Jill frowned. She had been hemmed into corners too many times during the evening and had not been able to keep as close to Max as she had wanted to.

“I’m surprised to hear that too.” Carly put down her empty wineglass and studiously avoided her husband’s eyes. “Why would your parents have asked her to do that? Did they think
she
was your girlfriend?”

“Carly!” Now it was Hamilton who was disapproving.

“I have absolutely no idea.” Max loosened his tie and stared at Jill. “But for the record, Miss Pierce is not my type.”

“Boobs like that are every man’s type,” Carly said.

Hamilton laughed. “She has us there, Max. Are you sure you weren’t having a fling with the buxom Marissa behind Jill’s back?”

“You weren’t seeing anyone behind my back unless you were leading a secret life,” Jill said.

“If I was, I don’t remember,” Max shot back. They all laughed uncomfortably.

Jill shook her head. “Gosh, I missed a lot of things tonight. I didn’t see Andrew at the cocktail party, either.”

“Thank god. He creeps me out,” Carly said. “I don’t remember him being so serious in college. Every time I saw him tonight, he was staring at someone. Usually Max.” She turned to Hamilton. “I saw you talking to him.”

“Did you? You should have rescued me. He’s a bore.” Hamilton pushed his hair off his forehead. “Anyone want more wine? I can order some.”

“No, thanks, not for me. I’m glad that party is over,” Jill replied. “Maybe we can skip the dinner tomorrow night. Everyone’s taken a look at Max, and at me, and knows Andrew and I can co-exist in the same space. And they got to admire you two.” She waved at Carly and Ham. “I heard several people comment that you are more gorgeous than you were in school, Carly. Motherhood agrees with you.”

“They were lying because I’ve gained so much weight. I think they felt sorry for me.” She nodded at Ham. “They were ogling him though, all of them.” Carly said. “Fools for a man in a handmade suit and a British accent.”

“I don’t have a British accent,” Hamilton argued.

“Yes, you do.” Jill giggled. “You do, and it’s very sexy. No one would think you were an American-born boy.”

“Anyone who knows me would,” Hamilton said.

“Oh, and those people are few and far between,” Carly cracked.

The tension in the room flamed up another notch.

Max got up and sat beside Jill. He draped his arm over her shoulder. “No avoiding the dinner tomorrow. We told Professor Millard we’d come, and she’s hell-bent on our doing the talent show. Didn’t you agree to sing with me? Even though I don’t sing.”

Jill leaned into him and pulled her fingers through her hair. “Yes. I did tell her we’d do it. But only a very short version.” She started humming “Kiss Me Twice,” struck by how appropriate those lyrics were to describe Max and her.

“You’re going to have to go on the Internet and look up the words and memorize them, Max,” Carly said. “Although I think Millard is planning on running the tape of the original contest in the background, so you can fake-sing along to that.”

“I’m good at fake singing,” he said. “My daughter says I get the lyrics wrong when we listen to the car radio, even if I don’t actually say a word.”

Jill met Hamilton’s eyes. “Are you going to play piano?”

“No. I don’t play anymore.”

“Carly said you didn’t, which is a shame. I found a cassette tape of the talent show you played in junior year. You were magnificent.” She turned to Max. “Hamilton won a state-wide contest. He was incredibly talented.”

Hamilton frowned. “I didn’t know that performance was taped. Another reason I’m not playing. The comparison from then to now would be shocking.”

“You aren’t going to play?” Carly frowned at her husband. “Why? Surely you don’t forget how to play a piece of music on the piano? Isn’t it like riding a bike and swimming? Once you learn, you never forget?”

“I haven’t practiced for years. I’m not going to go on stage and make a fool of myself.” Hamilton stood up. “I need to get some sleep. If you three don’t mind, I’m going to head off to bed before Julia wakes everyone up and wants to play at 3 a.m.”

Carly was sullen. “Fine. But I told Millard you would, so don’t be surprised if she insists.”

“You shouldn’t have committed to that for me. You know I don’t play anymore.”

“Sorry. But you weren’t around when Millard asked me,” Carly said. “As usual you were flying off somewhere else, leaving the family commitments to me.”

Hamilton turned to Max and Jill, the skin pinched around his mouth. “My apologies that you had to listen to this very familiar domestic bitch fest. My wife doesn’t keep much to herself about my shortcomings.” He left the room, shutting the bedroom door loudly.

The room fell silent.

“What do you say?” Max asked Jill. “I’m ready to call it a night myself.”

Jill met Carly’s eyes. Her friend was hurt and confused, and most of all, appeared shocked at her husband’s behavior. “Why don’t you go to your suite, Max? I’ll drive myself home tonight.”

“Okay. But if you change your mind, stop by. You can stay or I can keep you company on the drive home.”

“Thanks.” She walked him to the door and they shared a chaste kiss goodnight, but when he hugged her to his chest she felt the banked passion in him. Her body responded to it, though she cut the embrace short. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said firmly.

“Goodnight. Goodnight, Carly.” Max pulled the door shut.

Jill sat beside her friend. “Want to talk?”

Carly lay her head on Jill’s shoulder. She held up her empty wineglass. “No. I want to drink.”

“Are you doing too much of that lately?”

Carly didn’t say anything for a moment. Slowly she lowered the glass and set it on the table beside her. “Yes. But it’s not a problem. It’s a solution.”

“To what?”

“To lying in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

Jill shook her head. “We’re close enough friends that I know you know that’s BS.”

“It is.” She started to cry then, silent tears pouring down her face. “See what I mean about how Hamilton is? He flies off the handle over the oddest things. It used to be so good between us. But now he’s gone all the time and when he’s home he’s preoccupied. He feels like a stranger to me tonight. And if I question him about anything, he gets flinty and defensive. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Jill hugged her. “Tell him how unhappy you are. It’s clear to me he still cares about you.”

“Is it?” Carly wiped her hand across her pale face. “It’s not to me. I watched you and Max together, last night and tonight. Even with your worries about this whole reunion intrigue, you two are always tuned in to each other. That’s how Ham and I used to be. He was there with me, heart and soul. Couldn’t wait to be alone with me. That’s gone now. And I don’t think any amount of counseling can bring it back.”

“Nothing good is easy, you know that. You’ve got to fight for a relationship.” Jill sighed. “If Ham’s being pulled a hundred different ways because of work, you have to give him a break. I mean, he doesn’t even have enough time for his music anymore, right? Think for a moment how he must feel giving up something he loved and was so talented at.”

“He gave it up long before we got married. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at a piano since we were in college. But you’re right about his career.” Carly hugged Jill. “I’ll think about the counseling. You better get going, but please stop at Max’s room. I can tell when he left all he wanted to do was be alone with you.”

Jill thought of the flash drive in her purse. And of the conversation with Professor Millard earlier. “He’ll be fine. I’ll call you in the morning. Get some rest, okay.”

“Good night.” Carly made no move to get up off the sofa, and was staring at the half-f wine bottle on the counter.

Jill let herself out and walked to the elevator.

After a moment of doubt, she pressed the button for the lobby. She had to get home and look at the information Millard asked her to, though she truly wanted to stay and talk to Carly, help her think things through.

Despite her advice to her friend about counseling, she knew first hand that once some things were lost, like her mother’s memory, they were lost forever. Anyone could go to a reunion, but no one could go back in time and be the person they were.

What had Max said?
As if I’m an imposter in my own life.
She pulled her jacket close around her and walked out of the hotel into the night.

Jill drove into her garage at one-forty, a.m. She let herself into the house and threw her purse down on the kitchen counter. After downing two aspirin, she checked the street through the window for strange men walking around. Satisfied the neighborhood was its boring, normal self, she stripped off her new dress, heels, and jewelry as she navigated the hallway.

She dumped all the items on her bed and pulled on her robe, then went into the office and opened her laptop. The paperwork Millard had scanned into documents was standard fare. Names, addresses, past schools. The letter from the Swedish government about Max’s parents gave her pause. He had never said a single thing about his father’s government service when he was here fifteen years ago, and not much this time around.

Why not?

She blew out a breath in frustration. There was nothing else of note in his file, except that his records had been sent to Oxford University ten years ago, where he had applied to graduate school.

Andrew’s were a bit more surprising. His application essay recounted that he was adopted as a child in South America, where his mother was working for the United States government. There was also a letter from his guidance counselor at the ritzy prep school he attended. It was carefully worded, but said Andrew’s problems were all in the past.

His health records showed the staff kept epi-pens on hand due to a severe food allergy. Jill frowned as something chewed at the corner of her brain. She sort of remembered that he made a scene once, when they were married, because she bought a jar of peanut butter. But he had never mentioned being adopted.

Jill frowned. Men keep many personal things about themselves secret. She was sure if she was adopted, or if her father worked for the government, that she would have told the men in her life about it.

She started reading through Eddie Fitzhugh’s folder when her phone buzzed. The caller ID read ‘Marissa Pierce.’

She stared at it as it rang a third time. Then a fourth. She pressed answer. “Hello?”

“Jill. Hi, it’s Marissa. I’m sorry I’m calling you so late, but I wanted to see if we could get together tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be at the party tomorrow night.” Jill hoped the irritation in her voice was not as clear to Marissa as it was to her.

“I need to talk to you before that. Away from everyone,” Marissa whispered.

“Are you okay? Why are you whispering?”

“I’m, uh, trying to be quiet. Can you meet me at the Canyon Inn parking lot tomorrow morning about ten? I have some things I want to explain about Ben’s death.” A sob escaped.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. It must be difficult to talk about Ben with his old friends.”

“It is. More than you understand. But more importantly, I also want to talk to you about Andrew.”

Jill frowned. “Marissa, I don’t want to discuss my ex-husband with you.”

“It’s not about personal stuff. I can’t go into it right now, but he has told me some of the weirdest things, and I think you need to know about them.”

“What things?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, I promise.” Her voice echoed, as if she had her hand cupped around her mouth. “Can you ask Max if he’ll come, too? I have some of his stuff from college, his class ring and a bunch of papers, and he needs to know that I told . . .”

The phone line went dead, and dial tone sounded in her ear. Jill stared down at the cell.

Marissa has Max’s class ring?

With a huge sigh, Jill hit redial. The phone rang and rang but Marissa did not pick up. When it went to voicemail, Jill hit redial again, and the call went straight to Marissa’s voicemail again.

Jill set the phone down. She read through the documents for a few more minutes, then closed the computer and got up to make herself some tea. First thing in the morning she would call Dave and fill him in on what Millard had said about the men who came looking for information, and about the strange call from Marissa.

A chill slithered across her neck. She reached her hand to rub it away. No matter what Dave thought, it was time to tell Max, about everything. Everything she knew, including the fact Marissa had his ring. She would freaking ask him what the hell was going on, and pray he would answer truthfully.

Jill put a mug of water in the microwave, and relief flooded through her. A minute later, the microwave beeped, lighting up another thought in her brain.

I could go see Max right now. Crawl in bed with him, and tell him everything that’s happened. He needs to know.

And I need to trust him.

Jill hurried back to her room. Fifteen minutes later, she slipped on her jacket, grabbed her purse, and hurried into the garage, pulling the locked door closed behind her. She hit the car unlock button on her key, but then stopped dead in her tracks.

She was not the only one in the garage.