The Woman Next Door by Barbara Delinsky

knees. “Not soon. She told me she was decorating the nursery. There were paint spatters on her shirt.”
    Amanda could picture it. She would do the same thing if she were pregnant. She had dreamed of decorating a child’s room more times than she could count—one color here, another there, stencils for a border, a big rocking chair. She had been superstitious enough to wait, not that waiting had done any good. So maybe she ought to go ahead with it. Maybe a sign of commitment was needed. Shecould paint, buy furniture, hang mobiles. She could fill shelves with fuzzy animals, and if it broke her heart to pass a room like that every day of the week, was it any worse than passing a room filled with cartons that should have been unpacked and disposed of years before?
    Those cartons contained remnants of their premarriage lives, each clearly labeled with Graham’s name or hers. There was no merging of a couple here. Amanda wondered if, taken metaphorically, that was the problem.
    Karen drew on the cigarette a final time before stubbing it out on the underside of the step. “Georgia’s due back tomorrow. I wonder what she’ll say to all this.”
    “She’ll be worried about Allison drinking.”
    “I mean about Gretchen. Of all the possible suspects, Russ is the one with the greatest opportunity.”
    Amanda would have said that Russ respected Georgia too much to cheat. Only that implied Lee didn’t respect Karen—which he didn’t, but rubbing it in wouldn’t help. Besides, who was Amanda to pass judgment? Sure, Lee had a history of cheating. Sure, Russ spent his days in Gretchen’s front yard, so to speak. But Graham had been in that house last October—an hour here, an hour there. If they were listing suspects, Amanda had to include him.

Chapter Five
    The house was silent. Graham usually had music on—something soft, often bluegrass, perhaps Alison Krauss or Darrell Scott, both of whom they loved—but there was nothing playing tonight. Nor was there any sign that he had eaten. The kitchen was pristine.
    Once, not so long ago, Amanda might have come home from working late to find that he had dinner on the stove. He knew how much she loved the homey feeling of that. Her life before him hadn’t had much hominess in it, and she treasured it.
    She could have used a little hominess now. Especially she could have used that sign of caring.
    But he hadn’t made dinner.
    Which was fine. She wasn’t hungry.
    The phone rang. She waited, hoping that Graham would pick up in his office. By the fourth ring, when he didn’t, she answered it herself.
    “Hello?”
    Her sister-in-law Kathryn launched right in. “Gray called Joe, and he called me. I’m sorry about the baby, Amanda. Are you okay?”
    What she was just then was annoyed. She didn’t know why Graham had had to call his brother so fast. “I’m fine.”
    “Next time, it’ll take. Three’s a charm.”
    It certainly was for Kathryn. She had three children, three dogs, three weeks’ vacation from a three-day-a-week job. Amanda envied her. She envied the other O’Learys, too. Life just seemed to fall into place for them.
    Things weren’t so easy for Amanda and Graham. She couldn’t begin to think about the next time yet.
    “Don’t be discouraged,” Kathryn was saying. “You’ll have that baby. O’Learys always do. So, cheer up, sweetie, okay? But that’s only one of the reasons I’m calling. The other is to remind you about Sunday. Everyone’s coming here at three. Is that okay?”
    “Sure.”
    “No birthday gifts. Mom doesn’t want gifts.”
    “I know.”
    “And you’ll bring a trifle?”
    “Uh-huh, made with Paddy whiskey, to your grandmother’s specifications.” One didn’t make an Irish trifle without Irish whiskey. Amanda had learned that the very first time she had met the O’Leary clan. One didn’t eat Irish trifle—at least, not in an O’Leary household—without toasting Paddy.
    “Mom will love that,” Kathryn said. “Did she