Chapters (47)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Epigraphs
- Prologue
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- Part Two
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Ann stood on the porch and watched Michael work. She’d only seen him this focused when he ran—he had a sort of zen concentration she admired. He cut the grass in a perfect diamond pattern, cleaned up every clipping, and snipped away all the stray grass that grew around the base of the trees. Maureen joined her on the deck and offered her a glass of water with a wedge of lime hanging off the rim. “Anthony thinks your brother isn’t bad. High praise coming from him. You’ve probably noticed that my husband isn’t easily pleased,” Maureen said. “It drives me crazy sometimes, but that’s why he’s so successful at running the business.”
What was this “business” Maureen referred to? She liked to imagine they worked on something really important and interesting, like a blood test that could detect cancer, or a computer chip, or some dot-com business like GeoCities.
Maureen took a drink out of her own glass. “Tony says ‘Jump’ and his workers say ‘How high?’ He’s really got a remarkable gift for leadership, for encouraging people to do well. Of course, like any of us, he has his vices.” Maureen’s voice trailed off.
Vices? Ann wanted to know more; she was dying to get inside their marriage, figure him out.
“Your brother is a sweetheart,” Maureen said, gesturing for her to join her at the bistro table. “I think it’s wonderful what your family has done for him. It’s gotten me thinking that maybe we should look into adopting a needy child. We tried to have a third, you know. I wanted a daughter, someone I could talk to the way I talk to you.” She pressed her hand on Ann’s knee and smiled. Her fingers felt long and cold and hard, like the chilled shrimp she’d left on the kitchen counter for guests earlier that day. “Then I had female problems. Cysts, fibroids.”
Oh God, no. No! Ann wished she could put her fingers in her ears. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to know, didn’t want to be Maureen’s female friend. Her gal. Especially since she’d been daydreaming about Anthony.
“I have this theory,” Maureen said, “that women should be born with zippers, and once we’re done having babies we should just unzip ourselves and get rid of all that stuff we don’t need anymore.”
“That would be cool,” Ann said. She stood up. “I should go check on the boys.”