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“My balls, my chair,” he’d said, and she’d fallen over backward on the bed, hysterically laughing, having never seen her husband so ribald and inappropriate. That was his authentic self.
The memory made her laugh, the perfect groundwork to calling Elizabeth Harrow.
Sitting in one of the chairs, she scrolled through New York numbers she’d never need again but would keep in her contacts for times like this.
Senator Craig Harrow. Washington, D.C. Home, Office, Mobile. Craig and Elizabeth Harrow, Babylon, Home.
The Babylon home number, probably a landline, was the only viable number. She most certainly did not want to talk to Craig.
She tapped on the number, and it rang several times before being answered by an annoyed voice.
“Hello.” It was an unfamiliar older woman’s voice, scratchy and breathless, like she’d smoked tobacco for a long time.
“Hi, Elizabeth. This is Pam Smith.”
For some reason, she had used Smith. Let Elizabeth remember Jack’s wife, forgetting that Jack Smith still showed up on people’s caller ID.
“Pam Smith,” the voice echoed. Then, with venom, “What a goddamned surprise.”
“Why is that?” Pam asked, taken aback.
“Someone of your pedigree might have called months ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” She decided to grovel. “I should have called, but I felt like I needed to back off, to allow things to settle down.”
“You mean in your neck of the woods. You mean with your daughter and her friends. The people who are responsible for Ginger’s death.”
Waiting, Pam didn’t reply. She’d never received a call from the Harrows when Brent died, but it was pointless to bring that up now. There didn’t seem to be anything she could say to smooth things over with Elizabeth Harrow, who was pissed off.
Elizabeth finally spoke again. “You know, in the Bible, infidelity is always followed by the death of a child.”
Pam felt like she’d been smacked in the face with a medicine ball. She had heard that reasoning before, but she thought it was an awful way to try to control people.
“I don’t believe that shit for a second,” Pam said, louder than intended. “If it were true, there wouldn’t be a person alive on the planet.”
She could hear Elizabeth exhaling through the phone.
“Look, Mrs. Harrow, I lost a child, too. As a matter of fact, he was the father of your grandchild. I don’t know how much Andy Roman shared with you, but my understanding is that Ginger and Brent had an affair, he went away to college, and she stayed at the rented cottage instead of in the dorm at Sunny Brook. She went to class; I know that because I saw her report card. Impressive!
“The baby was born dead, and Ginger’s friends helped her hide the evidence so her behavior wouldn’t jeopardize her father’s chance of re-election.”
“How do you know this?” Elizabeth asked.
“It was general knowledge.” Though it was more elaboration than fact, to try to comfort the woman, she added, “The friends rallied around Ginger to protect her, knowing how important it was to her to keep the knowledge of the baby away from Craig.”
“What would she have done if the baby lived?” Elizabeth cried. “There goes that story!”
“She would have given it up for adoption. I saw her infrequently, and when I did, I never suspected she was pregnant. If I’d known she was, and that it was Brent’s baby, I would have supported her one hundred percent. In hindsight, I didn’t even know she was living down there. I thought Jack had rented the place for June, not for the rest of the year.”
More fabrication.
“Anyway, I wanted to give my condolences, as late as they are.”
“What made you choose today?” Elizabeth asked.
“I was in the lower level of our home, sorting through papers, and I found photographs Brent had taken of Ginger. It brought back memories of the fundraising party we had for Craig’s re-election.” As she thought of Jack and Elizabeth Harrow having an affair, a little of Pam’s vitriol resurfaced. “And then I remember being sure you were having an affair with my husband.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to gasp and sputter. “Using the wordaffairto describe what we did is stretching the truth, Pam.”
