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It had been an awkward two hours but at least not a disaster. Tall, statuesque Brittany, with deep brown eyes and brown hair worn in a flapperlike bob, had shaken Emma’s hand limply and offered a polite, “How do you do?... And oh, congratulations” before diverting all her attention to Tom. She told him she’d recently decided to major in marketing, a decision obviously influenced by her admiration for him, and over the meal she asked for his advice on a couple of courses she was planning to take, hanging on his every word.
“Thank you so much for today,” Tom had told Emma back at the inn.
“I didn’t mind at all, and I respect you so much for keeping the relationship going.”
“The funny thing is we were never very close during thefour years I was married to her mom, but since Diana died, Brittany’s been so eager to stay in touch.”
“Maybe when she was younger she didn’t feel comfortable expressing how much she cared about you.”
“Possibly. I also think beneath that cool exterior, there’s more neediness than you’d guess, and I know she misses Diana tremendously. She’s probably convinced herself that I’m one way she can stay connected to her mother’s memory.”
Emma could see that, too, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when Brittany reached out later about a summer internship. She told herself to grin and bear it, that Brittany’s stay would be a tiny hiccup in a life that was otherwise far happier than what she could have imagined for herself only a couple of years ago.
The ring of her cell phone tugs Emma’s attention away, and she spots Addison’s name on the screen, triggering a ripple of relief. This will be her chance not only to smooth things over, making sure there’s no awkwardness with a new friend, but also do damage control. Addison doesn’t seem like the type who would go blabbing to everyone about what she saw yesterday, but Emma wants reassurance.
“How’s your head?” Emma asks after they greet each other.
“Much better. What aboutyou, though? I was so worried, but instead of being helpful, I shattered one of your lovely wineglasses and then fell off the grid for the rest of the day.”
“Don’t worry about it. And you were so thoughtful to clean up.”
“I’d no idea that you’d lost a husband. That—”
“It’s not common knowledge around here. Tom knows,of course, and so does my colleague Eric, because he worked with me back then. But needless to say, I never share it with people right away. I don’t want to make them uncomfortable.”
“I won’t say a word, but please know it didn’t makemeuncomfortable, Emma. It was just a bit of a shock. Is everything okay, by the way? I mean...”
“Yes, the detective was simply checking in. It’s still an open investigation.”
Though she attempts to sound nonchalant, Emma knows there’s an edge in her voice.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that on your own yesterday,” Addison says. “So it happened in New York City?”
Emma has no interest in rehashing the experience, but so as not to come across as overly secretive, she offers a very quick summary—downtown Manhattan alleyway; possible robbery gone wrong; the killer never apprehended—but doesn’t mention when the crime happened.
“Oh, Emma, gosh, how tough it must have been,” Addison says when she finishes. “To lose a husband so young and in such a horrible way.”
“Yes, very tough.”
Because what could she say instead?To tell you the truth, not so tough. I married a smart, ambitious man who seemed fairly easygoing and fun when he was in business school, but the minute he found himself in a high-pressure job became sullen, critical, and downright nasty. At least to me.
“But then you met the fabulous Tom,” Addison says warmly, interrupting her train of thought. “I’m really glad this story has a happy ending.”
“Thanks, me, too. I’d love to reschedule if you’re willing to chance another visit.” She forces a chuckle. “I’ll try to keep the cops away this time.”
“Of course. I know this is short notice, but are you free tomorrow? And you could come to my place this time since you have so much on your plate.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you. Actually, I could stop by at around nine thirty if that works for you. Tom’s playing golf tomorrow and he won’t even miss me.”
“Perfect. I’ll text you my address.”
Okay, good, she thinks as she signs off. Not only is Addison not wigged out about yesterday, but Emma’s pretty sure her new friend will be discreet.
By the time Tom returns, she’s dressed for the ride, brought their bikes and helmets into the driveway, and gathered snacks and water bottles. They do a quick confab and agree on a picturesque route they’ve done several times before.
It’s also the route they took on their very first date—or their first date if she doesn’t count the awkward midday meal at a Westport restaurant.
About three weeks after they’d met in his office, Tom had asked Emma to lunch—to pick her brain about the idea for a possible ad campaign, he’d said, but she knew it went beyond that. She felt sure he’d experienced the same spark that she had in his office. Emma was still unready to even think about exploring the attraction, and yet she’d been unable to bring herself to turn him down.
