everything. I have a life too. It's in New York. Adjust your schedule to take care of your children when I go on vacation this summer.”
“I have to work.”
I clenched my jaw. “You could work closer to home.”
“I don't want to.”
“Finally, you've admitted it. You're happier away from home. Well, John Wayne, here's my schedule. Plan around it.”
I pulled a paper from the corkboard and plunked it on the table: First two weeks of July—Richmond, taking care of Merry after her operation. The kids would be at camp. Second two weeks of July—the Hamptons on Long Island with Raney and Grace, another of the Great Dames who owned a summer cottage on the shore.
“You have to be home those two weeks. I won't miss my annual summer escape with my girlfriends. I can take the kids to the Outer Banks or Myrtle Beach for the first couple of weeks of August.”
Long after we'd retired to our respective rooms, I lay propped in bed, my book unread on my lap. Unusual for me, because the book, the latest FBI Agent Pendergast installment from Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, couldn't hold my interest.
My thoughts tumbled like wet socks in a runaway dryer.
What do I do about Merry? Was her coldness toward Whip at dinner another example of her changed personality? Is it a different manifestation of her self-absorption?
What if Whip takes the kids with him to Peru for six months? Shit, that won't work. I can't see Whip home schooling Alex, let alone Emilie. What if I demand to take the kids to New York? I could make that work.
With the kids with me in New York, I'd be home, but if Whip left Merry for several months, I didn't think his marriage would survive. Even worse, I didn't think Merry would survive. He'd be choosing his job over his wife. He already had. Had he always been like this?
CHAPTER TWENTY
I drove Merry to her final appointment with Dr. Hunter before her surgery because Whip was busy preparing for Peru. We picked Emilie up after swim class and headed to Chaminade.
When the nurse called Merry's name, we all got up. Merry introduced Emilie to Dr. Hunter. I frowned when he blocked the door.
“Mrs. Davis, wait in the outer office.”
“It's Mrs. Davies.”
“Yeah. Whatever. I'll speak to your daughter. Alone.”
“Why?” I thrust my chin outward.
“Because you two will be in my way. Besides, you have no say in Merry's decisions.”
“I thought everything was decided. At least that's what Whip told me.”
“It's up to Merry. Go back to the waiting room.”
I didn't like the way Dr. Hunter touched Emilie's face before he slammed the door. We returned to the waiting room to, well, wait.
Emilie wrinkled her nose. “What a creep. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice. I didn't like the way he looked at me.”
She pulled a novel from her backpack and settled down to read.
“Neither did I.”
Almost an hour later, Merry emerged with a computer printout in one hand. She smiled up at the doctor and walked into the waiting room.
“Well? What did he say?” I tossed last month's National Geographic aside.
“He can make me look twenty-one again, instead of thirty-five.”
I was stunned. If what Merry said was true, she'd look like a different person.
“Is this what you and Whip agreed on? That you'd look fifteen years younger? Since when did that matter?” I headed toward the elevator. My blood pressure rose.
“Dr. Hunter said he could change the shape of my eyes too. I'll look younger, more exotic, no longer the run-of-the-mill Riverbend Junior Leaguer.”
“What's wrong with the way you used to look? You were beautiful, Mom.” Emilie leaned against me.
“Now I'll be better.” Merry folded the printout, but Emilie snatched it.
“Who's that?”
“The new me.”
I looked over Emilie's shoulder.
“The new you? What about the old you? The you we all love? The you Whip married?” I became more and more upset. My cheeks burned.
“Dr. Hunter's going to make some small changes
“I have to work.”
I clenched my jaw. “You could work closer to home.”
“I don't want to.”
“Finally, you've admitted it. You're happier away from home. Well, John Wayne, here's my schedule. Plan around it.”
I pulled a paper from the corkboard and plunked it on the table: First two weeks of July—Richmond, taking care of Merry after her operation. The kids would be at camp. Second two weeks of July—the Hamptons on Long Island with Raney and Grace, another of the Great Dames who owned a summer cottage on the shore.
“You have to be home those two weeks. I won't miss my annual summer escape with my girlfriends. I can take the kids to the Outer Banks or Myrtle Beach for the first couple of weeks of August.”
Long after we'd retired to our respective rooms, I lay propped in bed, my book unread on my lap. Unusual for me, because the book, the latest FBI Agent Pendergast installment from Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, couldn't hold my interest.
My thoughts tumbled like wet socks in a runaway dryer.
What do I do about Merry? Was her coldness toward Whip at dinner another example of her changed personality? Is it a different manifestation of her self-absorption?
What if Whip takes the kids with him to Peru for six months? Shit, that won't work. I can't see Whip home schooling Alex, let alone Emilie. What if I demand to take the kids to New York? I could make that work.
With the kids with me in New York, I'd be home, but if Whip left Merry for several months, I didn't think his marriage would survive. Even worse, I didn't think Merry would survive. He'd be choosing his job over his wife. He already had. Had he always been like this?
CHAPTER TWENTY
I drove Merry to her final appointment with Dr. Hunter before her surgery because Whip was busy preparing for Peru. We picked Emilie up after swim class and headed to Chaminade.
When the nurse called Merry's name, we all got up. Merry introduced Emilie to Dr. Hunter. I frowned when he blocked the door.
“Mrs. Davis, wait in the outer office.”
“It's Mrs. Davies.”
“Yeah. Whatever. I'll speak to your daughter. Alone.”
“Why?” I thrust my chin outward.
“Because you two will be in my way. Besides, you have no say in Merry's decisions.”
“I thought everything was decided. At least that's what Whip told me.”
“It's up to Merry. Go back to the waiting room.”
I didn't like the way Dr. Hunter touched Emilie's face before he slammed the door. We returned to the waiting room to, well, wait.
Emilie wrinkled her nose. “What a creep. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice. I didn't like the way he looked at me.”
She pulled a novel from her backpack and settled down to read.
“Neither did I.”
Almost an hour later, Merry emerged with a computer printout in one hand. She smiled up at the doctor and walked into the waiting room.
“Well? What did he say?” I tossed last month's National Geographic aside.
“He can make me look twenty-one again, instead of thirty-five.”
I was stunned. If what Merry said was true, she'd look like a different person.
“Is this what you and Whip agreed on? That you'd look fifteen years younger? Since when did that matter?” I headed toward the elevator. My blood pressure rose.
“Dr. Hunter said he could change the shape of my eyes too. I'll look younger, more exotic, no longer the run-of-the-mill Riverbend Junior Leaguer.”
“What's wrong with the way you used to look? You were beautiful, Mom.” Emilie leaned against me.
“Now I'll be better.” Merry folded the printout, but Emilie snatched it.
“Who's that?”
“The new me.”
I looked over Emilie's shoulder.
“The new you? What about the old you? The you we all love? The you Whip married?” I became more and more upset. My cheeks burned.
“Dr. Hunter's going to make some small changes
Similar Books
