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“I did. You’re right. If they ask, I can hand over my phone and computer, and they won’t find anything from her. What a relief.”
“Make sure you stay well behaved,” she said, glancing at him sidelong.
“I promise.”
“Hey, why aren’t you at work?”
“I don’t have clients.”
“Well, I guess this is my lucky day,” Pam said, grinning.
After Dan left, with the rest of the morning to herself, Pam decided to do something she had not done in a long while; she was going to venture down to the lower level of the house. When the children were small, Jack had had a powerful drainage system installed, so despite the high water table right there on the ocean, they had been able to use the space, which contained a large media room, three guest rooms with baths, a bar with a full kitchen, and a wine cellar. It had been perfect for parties, and when the children reached their teens, it had been their domain.
The hallway in the middle of the house that led to the mudroom and the garage contained a warren of doors to the powder room, laundry, pantry, and basement staircase. Pam flicked the light switch on and hesitated on the landing, trying to think back to the last time she’d been downstairs. The maids cleaned weekly whether or not the rooms were used, and they’d report if there was anything that needed her attention. There never was.
When Jack had been alive, when he was in Babylon on the weekends, if he wasn’t out and about or in his office, he’d found reasons to be down there, and although Pam didn’t care for subterranean rooms, she’d go with him to watch movies in the media room, or when he opened a new keg of beer he’d brewed or had a shipment of wine he wanted to put into the cellar.
The only other man she’d been with who’d appreciated the space had been Randy, her last husband. He’d held business meetings there and entertained the production crews from his various television projects.
But it was the ghost of Jack she was afraid she’d meet. There were many storage areas and cupboards and cabinets that she’d never looked at in the years since he’d died, afraid of uncovering more secrets and lies. Mixed in with the plethora of mundane papers and mementoes might be hints of more of Jack’s sins.
She stepped back, a little niggling fear cruising through her. She’d call Lisa first and admit her concerns.
“Mother, what are you afraid of? You’ve already dealt with the worst crap from him. What else could there be? Another skeleton?”
Not long before, Pam had discovered a baby’s skeleton in the attic of the old beach shack her stepdaughter Laura had purchased. She wasn’t eager to experience that again.
“Who knows? You’ve been down here more than I have since your father died. Where should I start?”
“The wine cellar. That was Dad’s special place. Did Randy use it much?”
“I really don’t know. He bought wine, but the ante room with the file cabinet and the closet? I’m not sure if he did much in there. He never said he found anything. Maybe he was hiding it if he did.”
“Randy was so upfront about everything, Mother. I doubt he came across something you shouldn’t see. Go for it. Besides, if I remember correctly, all our baby crap you saved is down there. You even had baby clothes of ours. Look in the closets.”
“You’re right. The wine cellar has nothing stored like that. I crammed baby clothes and photos and treasures from your babyhood into one of the bedroom closets.” Pam thought for a second. There was safety in companionship. “Do you want to come over and go through it with me?”
“I guess I could. I’m not prone to getting sad or upset about old photos, like you are.”
Pam didn’t reply to that, thinking,Just wait.“Okay, come. I’ll be digging around downstairs.”
When Lisa arrived, Pam was in the smallest of the three bedrooms, where the largest closet was located, pulling out plastic boxes filled with memorabilia and stacking them on the floor.
“Mom! I’m here!”
“Come on down,” Pam called up the staircase.
Lisa appeared in the doorway, looking like a young girl with rosy cheeks from the cold, her hair covered with a red knitted cap called a slouchy cap with cables snaking around the brim.
“You still have that old thing?” Pam asked, pointing to her head.
“I love this hat, Mother. What are you talking about?” Lisa skipped down the steps.
Chuckling, Pam just shook her head. “You hated it when I knit it for you.”
“What sixteen-year-old wants to wear a knitted hat her mother made? Now I have to fight for it. Ryan keeps stealing it and wearing it all day so he doesn’t have to get a haircut.”
“I like Ryan’s long hair. Leave him alone.”
