Amanda checked over her shoulder again as she made her way down the rest of Third Street. She didn’t actually see anything. But when she tried to take a deep breath, her lungs were stiff and her skin was prickling in that way it always had back then. Right before.
She knew exactly what Carolyn would say: tell Zach. For her part, Sarah would insist it was a husband’s job to protect his wife, and vice versa as a matter of fact. But what of the problems you’d brought upon yourself? Was it fair to foist those on your spouse? And Amanda was supposed to reduce Zach’s stress, not add to it. He was already under so much pressure. The least she could do was hold up her end of their bargain.
Amanda had been seventeen that night eleven years ago when Zach stepped inside the Bishop Motel. He was nothing like the men who usually stayed the night at the motel—which by then was not only where Amanda worked, but also where she lived. First of all, Zach was half the size of the truckers and loggers, and so much softer. A man who would live his life without ever dirtying his hands. Not exactly masculine either, but there were worse things. Much worse things. And anyway, he had such a nice smile.
But more than anything, it was that way Zach had looked at her when they met that most caught Amanda’s attention. Like an explorer who’d just discovered a rare species in his own backyard—exhilarated, nervous. Amanda had been told her whole life that she was beautiful, but up until that precise moment it had always felt like a liability.
Zach was already so accomplished, too. Amanda learned all about that when they ran into each other again, late the next afternoon. Zach was just back from a long hike, looking fit and strong and sure in his muddy hiking boots and even more handsome with a little shadow of a beard. He’d just graduated from law school and business school—both at once!—and was taking some time to himself, hiking in the Adirondacks to celebrate before going west to work inCalifornia. Zach had such direction and focus. He knew exactly where he was headed.
“Wow, California,” Amanda had said, feeling a little tug of envy. “All that sunshine. I’ve never been anywhere outside St. Colomb Falls.”
“Come with me then,” Zach had said with a shrug. So direct and simple and crazy. “Whatever is out there has got to be better than this. Forget what I think you should do, forget about me—don’t you owe it to yourself to find out?”
Like heknew. Though he didn’t, of course. Not the details of Amanda’s miscalculations. Those he would never know. All these years later, Zach had never cared to fill in any of the very obvious holes in Amanda’s past. She’d realized this was one of her husband’s greatest skills: focusing only on what mattered to him. It was probably the secret to his success.
But back then, at the Bishop Motel, Zach was holding out a sunshiny, golden ticket: California. Away. Far away. Finally, an actual destination. All Amanda had to do was reach out and grab it. And so Amanda had asked herself: What would Carolyn do? The answer was obvious. Carolyn would take a flying leap.
That was how Amanda found herself waiting by Zach’s rental car when he checked out that night. He’d acted surprised to see her there. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t. Not really.
He’d smiled in this little boy way that made her feel so good inside, and said: “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Soon they’d stuffed her three boxes of belongings into his trunk and were hurtling west—top down, wind in their hair. Safe. Alive. Free. Overhead there was only darkness and all those stars. Amanda knew then: she’d do whatever she had to never to return to St. Colomb Falls.
What she hadn’t ever counted on—what she’d never even considered—was St. Colomb Falls coming after her.
Amanda picked up her pace until the Gate was finally within view, brightly lit on the corner of Fifth Avenue. The old-fashioned pubwas where Sarah and Maude, and occasionally some other moms, met once every other week for drinks. It had a delightful outdoor area, one of the places where the young and child-free of Park Slope congregated—or so Sarah liked to say, her tone steeped equally in envy and disdain.
Once Amanda was safely within arm’s reach of the Gate, she paused and looked back over her shoulder one last time. But no one was behind her, at least no one that she could see.
Amanda spotted Maude and Sarah huddled at one of the worn mahogany booths in back. Maude’s head was tipped back, and she was laughing hard, feet tucked up on the seat next to her in a feline way. Sarah was leaning in close, saying something with one of her trademark wicked grins. Already, Amanda was glad she’d come. Snuggled back there in that dark corner were herfriends. Not sister-friends, maybe, not friends like Carolyn. But friendships like that were a lifetime in the making. And after such a short time, Sarah and Maude were already so much more than Amanda ever could have hoped for.
Amanda had met Sarah outside Henry and Case’s classroom, and they’d hit it off instantly. Amanda did best with very confident, outgoing women like Sarah who weren’t bothered by the way she looked, or how much money she had, or how fit she was. Amanda didn’t consider herself an athlete by any stretch, but she could run ten miles without much thought, and even she had to acknowledge that she was rather fast. Over the years, many women had been eager at first to be Amanda’s running partner or her coffee date or her friend. But sooner or later those women always began to eye Amanda up and down, jockeying to stand farther away from her so as not to suffer in the comparison. Inevitably, that jealousy would sharpen into something they’d used to poke at Amanda, cutting her down to size.
Had shereallynot gone to college? How interesting. Had shereallynever been anywhere in Europe? Such a shame. Did shereallyhave so little say in the things her husband did? How … unusual. Andhow old was she anyway?
Twenty-eight. Amanda was twenty-eight years old; often as much as fifteen years younger than mothers with children Case’s age. But sometimes the gulf between them felt even greater. It felt infinite, and impenetrable.
Standing in the doorway to the Gate, Amanda glanced down at her crisp white blouse and the platform Prada sandals the salesman at Barneys had convinced her were so very New York when she went to buy yet more clothes she hoped would be the right ones. But Amanda hadn’t clarified that by “New York” she had meant “Park Slope mom,” which was a different uniform altogether. Calculated indifference, that was the look. Park Slope moms were beautiful and fashionable and fit, but they were above caring too much about silly things like fashion. They had more important things to worry about, like causes or children or their meaningful careers. In other words, Amanda needed to master the application of the exact right amount of concealer and precise coating of mascara to appear flawlessly barefaced.
Unfortunately, Amanda continued to make her fair share of mistakes in this regard. That was the problem with pretending to be someone—not even someone else, just someone. It was so easy to overshoot the mark.
Amanda smiled hard as she made her way over to Maude and Sarah’s booth, pulling her long hair down and rolling up her white sleeves in an effort to appear more casual.
“So sorry I’m late.” Amanda motioned to her outfit by way of explanation and then offered her go-to white lie. “I had a donor meeting.”
It said so much and so little at the same time.
“Look at the shoes, Maude!” Sarah cried, pointing at Amanda’s heels. “I love them!”
Maude pressed up in her seat. “Let me see.” She tipped over to look. “Wow, amazing. Someday you do need to take me shopping, Amanda.”
This was her friends being kind. They knew exactly where to shop and had the means to do so anytime they pleased. They chose not to because they, too, had more important things to do.
Maude was an art dealer, her husband a well-respected ob-gyn, and they had a teenage daughter, Sophia, the same age as Sarah’s middle son, Will, who was a sophomore at Brooklyn Country Day—which was how those two knew each other. But the age of their children was all Maude and Sarah had in common as parents. Sarah liked to joke that Maude wasn’t just a helicopter mom, she was a kamikaze pilot. But Maude and her daughter were extremely close, and Amanda saw Maude’s hovering for what it was: love.
In addition to having a successful business and being a devoted mother, Maude was also effortlessly sexy in a way Amanda found especially intimidating, with ivory skin with just the right smattering of freckles, intense brown eyes, and a head of long reddish-brown curls. Her husband Sebe was French, though he’d attended medical school in the States. Amanda had met him a couple times when he’d dropped Maude at the Gate. Tall and extremely well built with light brown skin and bright hazel eyes, Sebe was shockingly handsome, especially with his accent. The first time Amanda met him, she’d been unable to stop herself from staring.
“You should see your face,” Sarah had said, laughing, once Sebe had gone.
