because I was trying not to be a crybaby.â
âOh, honey, you can always call me. . . .â She stroked her daughterâs hair. âMaybe it wasnât a scream. Laughter can sound like screaming sometime. Maybe itâs just somebody in the neighborhood having fun. The night is so still, and everybodyâs windows are open. . . . Maybe, if it was Inga, Mr. Manning had just told her a joke.â
The little girl shook her head. âIt wasnât laughter.â
Jessie sighed. âOkay, sweetie. You get back down under the covers and Iâll go take a look. Iâm sure itâs nothing. Inga will be home soon from Mr. Manningâs.â
âOkay, Mommy.â
Jessie pulled the sheet up and kissed Abby on the forehead. âDo you want me to leave the light on for you?â
âNo, thatâs okay. Now that Iâve told you about it, it doesnât seem scary anymore.â
Jessie smiled. What a brave kid she had. âOkay, sweetie, pleasant dreams.â
âGood night, Mommy.â
Jessie switched the light back off and stepped out of Abbyâs room.
She was in her nightgown, a sheer, filmy pink thing, so she pulled a terrycloth robe from a hook in the bathroom and wrapped it around herself.
She hadnât heard a thing. Sheâd been too wrapped up in her own thoughts, Jessie supposed as she headed down the stairs. She had her own idea about what Abby might have heard. She suspected it had been neither a scream nor laughterâor rather, she suspected it had been a combination of both. What Abby had likely heard was Inga and John Manning carrying on, their crescendo of passion floating out from the open windows through the still night and reaching the ears of the five-year-old girl.
Jessie was back to thinking that the nanny had crossed the line as she pushed open the screen door and stepped out into the dark night.
T EN
â D id you hear something a little while ago?â Monica asked Todd as she got into bed.
âNo,â he mumbled, reading the stocks on his BlackBerry.
âIt sounded like a scream.â
âProbably a bird.â
âIt was no bird.â Monica shuddered, pulling the sheet up around her. âIt was creepy. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom and I heard it from the window.â
âThen maybe a cat. You know how cats in heat sound.â
Monica pouted. She knew very well how a cat in heat sounded, but she wasnât sure Todd did, with the way heâd been utterly clueless to her attempts to get him to make love to her lately. âIt wasnât a cat either,â she said. Todd just grunted.
Monica was still stewing about the party, about all the little dynamics of tension sheâd spotted bubbling under the surface. She knew Todd still resented Bryan for jumping ship and leaving their company and heading over to one of their biggest rivals. She knew that Bryan and Heather were unhappyâthat was plainly obvious in the way they looked at and spoke to each otherâand she suspected Bryan had made a pass at Jessie, because her sister had bolted up from the picnic table at one point and stalked inside. Monica was very grateful that her own marriage was as solid as it was, and that her sisterâs return would not cause the same kind of temptation for Todd.
Of course, Toddâs lack of interest in sex lately did trouble her. Mostly Monica tried not to think about it, but sometimes it became unavoidable, as it had just now with Toddâs comment about a cat in heat. That had made Monica think about the lack of heat in her own relationship. But still, she didnât think there was a problem in their marriage. It was just that Todd was consumed with work. The economic downtown had meant the banks were recalculating everything. Todd was constantly figuring and refiguring and sometimes sat up late at night on the computer, telling her to go on to bed without him. Monica often found him slumped
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