You know I hate to do it to you guys, but this chapter has been split in two (as has the next one). This story will be 11 chapters total, plus an epilogue.
Ned couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen Nancy's lingerie. He looked away, then looked back, but the deep red silk babydoll remained. Spread invitingly on her side of the bed.
He closed the bedroom door, smiling a little to himself.
Along with the moratorium on lingerie and all related activities had come the one on poker nights. She was moody, miserable, far past the point of drinking, and had little use for any excuse to see his friends. Her friends, meanwhile, gathered around the kitchen table playing cards, that was fine, and to be honest he didn't mind it, but when it came to her double standard...
He couldn't go out, she would be worried, and worrying was bad for the baby.
If they stayed in he practically had to bribe her to touch him, she was so standoffish. And always exhausted. Probably because of the degree to which she was working out. No one would have known she'd given birth six weeks before. The exaggerated curves of her frame had faded, save her overswelled breasts (and that, he could admit, he had no desire to watch diminish), and a slight softness about her hips.
Not that he had cared. Until about a week before she went into labor, when simply being awake was miserable for her, if she'd asked he would have given in. Even an interested glance in his direction would have been enough. Pillows or the bathtub or the floor, upside-down in her garden, he would have been there with bells on. But her damn "The doctor said six weeks," he could have sworn she'd bribed April to say that, if he hadn't looked it up and found out it was true.
It had been almost three months.
Somehow, it was worse, now, worse than it had been just after they had been married and she had left him and snatched away any prospect, any possibility, any hope he had of getting laid. She was it, she was all he had wanted, no one else could compete with that, not even if he were drunk. In fact then it was worse, because he found himself unable to shut up about her, and the girls quickly tired of him and found guys with less baggage, or at least less willingness to talk about it.
Nancy was downstairs, dressed in white, hair falling in lightly curved strands past her shoulders. Wearing eye makeup. That was what had been bothering him earlier. Lined in black, framed with mascara, standing out above her relatively paler lips and cheeks. She was charming. The babies were downstairs. The guys, for the most part, gave them a cursory glance, gave him a slap on the back and congratulations, while the woman cooed and gleamed over them.
Bess slipped inside, with Nate. "Sorry I'm late," she said, Madison in her arms, Stephanie at her side. "Upstairs?"
Ned nodded gratefully. "We've got everything set up. Go ahead and get a plate, I can watch them for a few minutes." He extended his arms and Madison, after a moment of intense deliberation, allowed herself to be transferred.
Stephanie looked over the nursery, nodded to herself at seeing the television set up in the corner, then gestured to the backpack hanging by a strap in her grasp. "I brought books," she said, invitingly.
"Cool," Ned replied, noncommittally.
"Want me to read?"
"That would be fantastic," he replied, as Madison attacked a brightly colored activity board and reacted to its chirping greeting.
"Are the babies in here?" Stephanie started looking around.
"They'll be here in a minute," Ned replied.
Bess opened the door and peered inside, Nate at her elbow with a drink. She took a bite of cracker, then handed one to Stephanie upon her insistent grasping. "If George gets here she promised she'll trade off with me, so catch her if you see her, okay?" Bess told Ned.
"That's fine," he replied. "Nate?"
Nate hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the study and its game console. "In there?"
"It's downstairs, actually," Ned replied. "We can go down and set it up, if Bess...?"
"I'm fine," Bess said, waving them off. "You'll probably want to bring the babies up here soon, though."
"All right." Ned nodded. "Thanks again."
The babies were blissed out in their bassinet, but when Ellison came in complaining of a summer cold, Ned took them into his arms and deposited them in the nursery with Bess, who was patiently listening to Stephanie read aloud. Stephanie sounded surprisingly like her older counterparts, cooing at the babies, watching for any movement.
"Remember when Maddy was this little?" Bess asked.
Stephanie looked up. "Kind of," she said.
Ned excused himself and was back downstairs, talking to Nancy, her hand resting on his shirt, and he was about to lean in to make some comment about the nightgown on their bed when the door opened, again. He barely heard it over the din, but he saw Nancy's eyes light up, and he followed her gaze.
Michael Delgado waved his greeting and closed the door behind him.
Ned had already seen Stone and Ellison, so he didn't know why the sight of Delgado was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Nancy's hand was still against his chest, but for all her lack of attention it, and she, might as well have been on the moon.
Just behind him was Danielle.
Ned watched carefully to see if the two made any sort of tip-off, as though they had met or talked on the way in, but they separated as soon as they had passed through the initial crush of people. He reached down and touched Nancy's cheek, and when she turned to him questioningly, their gazes caught and held.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she smiled back.
"You want some champagne?"
"I wish," she replied, sighing. "Sparkling grape juice, garcon."
Ned bowed to her and made his way to the kitchen.
When he found her again, she was sitting in the circle of poker players, her diamond gleaming from her finger, and could not have looked more beautiful. She was reminding him of the way things had been before, before they had started arguing so much, before he'd been such an idiot and invited Danielle out for lunch that day he'd been so angry with Nancy. Danielle kept casting him glances from across the room, ones he was afraid his all too observant wife was going to pick up on. He'd have to take Danielle aside sometime soon, tell her that he'd made a mistake, that things were never going to develop between them.
Ned noticed that Michael was sitting across the table from Nancy.
Jan, with her hand still resting in her husband's, leaned down and murmured something to Nancy. Ned had seen the two of them go upstairs, and from Nancy's expression, Ned knew Jan was probably talking about the babies. Mike caught Ned's eye from across the table and nodded slightly in the direction of the living room, asking if Ned wanted to come play, since Nate was already installed on the couch and there were no open spots at the poker table.
Ned cast one last glance back. Nancy was laughing at something Jeff Stone was saying, and he thought again about making some excuse, taking her upstairs, not even bothering with the nightie. But having an evening with all their friends like this, it had been so long...
He followed Mike into the living room.
Bess, in the meantime, was peering from the upstairs balcony, trying to find her cousin. George had just finished cramming her coat into the closet and was fluffing out her short brown hair when Bess hissed down at her.
George looked up.
"Come up here!" Bess mouthed, beckoning her.
After casting a glance around, George followed her cousin up the stairs, to where she could see Bess peeking out of the nursery. "Come on, I just need to go get some drinks," she said, once George was within earshot. "Stephanie's been demanding juice every two seconds."
"Okay," George said, walking inside. Stephanie brightened when she saw her aunt. "You'll be right back, right? No stopping for a hand of poker or anything?"
"Sure, fine," Bess said hastily, her eyes gleaming. "I'll run the whole way."
George snickered. "Fat chance."
The kitchen was relatively deserted, when Bess reached it. Relatively. Someone was keeping the snack trays well stocked, and the replenishments were out on the countertop. Bess snatched a carrot stick, then poked her head into the refrigerator, trying to find some unspiked juice.
She heard a laugh, and backed off very slowly, until she could just see around the side of the door.
A woman in white, standing against the counter, manicured hand around a glass of dark purple drink, laughing. Nancy. With a tan hand against the small of her back, and someone leaning in close to her, someone who wasn't Ned.
Bess took a slow, measured breath, then let the refrigerator door close silently. Michael, she recognized him now, that guy from Nancy's work, had his head bent close to hers, and was murmuring something. Nancy, looking flushed and happy, was listening intently.
Bess, still feeling a little bit in shock, walked out of the kitchen and immediately saw Ned, sitting on the couch between her husband and his best friend. She blinked, swiftly, trying to clear the image, and heard one of the girls she knew vaguely ask if she wanted to join for a hand.
"Sure," she said, blankly, and dropped into a chair.
The girl frowned. "Nancy said she'd be back before the hand was over."
During the progression of the hand Bess told herself sternly that whatever she had seen, she had misinterpreted. They worked together
but she hasn't been at work for eight weeks
and of course they were close, she had been training him to work in her team, and...
She turned off the insistent voice in her head and directed her attention back to the game.
Once the hand was over she went upstairs and relieved her cousin, still a little distracted, but Stephanie was enough distraction in herself.
Danielle watched Michael leave the table, once Bess had gone back upstairs. She caught the glance Michael directed at Nancy, the look she gave him in return, and settled back, arms crossed, drink nestled in her hand, to watch. Ned was ignoring her, and she was feeling just a little pissed.
Michael went upstairs. Nancy played out the rest of her hand, and then gave her spot at the table to George. Mike, the cute guy who was awfully close to Ned and walked around with a cane, took the spot Michael had vacated.
Danielle watched Nancy head for the stairs, a half smile on the latter's face.
Danielle put her drink down and stood. No one else was watching. Ned and Nate were watching the television very, very intently.
She waited half a beat, and followed them upstairs.
George had been watching, mostly because she had seen the way Danielle had been studying Ned earlier, and was seeing in her head a repeat of the whole Denise Mason incident. Nancy had probably just gone upstairs to check on the children, anyway. She tried to put it out of her head.
And then, at the edge of her vision, she saw Danielle descend a few stairs, stop, her hand raised slightly, her manner thoughtful. She kept looking at Ned. Neither Nancy nor Michael came down after her. Danielle took a few more stairs, then stopped again.
"George, your turn."
George tossed a few chips into the middle without even bothering to check their color, her gaze still centered on Danielle. Danielle strode across the room to her purse, which she'd left half-hidden, and brushed it with her hand so that it tumbled into the shadowed space behind the entertainment center. Ned was utterly oblivious. Or, at least, he was, until Danielle approached him, her manner simpering.
Mike showed his hand and the entire table crowed with him, save George, whose attention was still on Danielle. Danielle and Ned, whose heads were close together.
"Not leaving so soon, are you?" George read off Ned's smiling lips.
George put her hand face-down and it was whisked out from under her fingers, returned to the dealer. She pushed her chair back, quietly, as Danielle straightened, as Nate stretched, as Ned stood and walked with Danielle to the foot of the stairs.
Ned and Danielle didn't see George as she followed them up, as she stopped at the door to the nursery while they kept walking down the hall, past the master bedroom. George opened the door, and Bess looked up, from playing some nonsense card game with Stephanie.
"Nancy's not in here?" George asked.
Bess glanced around, as though Nancy could have entered without her knowledge. "No," Bess replied. "Isn't she still downstairs?"
George stepped back, out of the lit threshold, turned her head to the left. Danielle was standing close to Ned, her hand on his elbow, and while he wasn't shaking it off, he didn't seem to be encouraging it, either.
the bitch
George caught herself and heard the faint noise of Bess walking toward her, over the carpet. "What's wrong?"
George didn't answer her cousin, but moved toward Ned and Danielle, intending, if anything, to make Ned remember who he was, and that there were people around, people loyal to his wife before him who wouldn't be happy to see him with Danielle. Bess made some murmured command to Stephanie and closed the door behind her, following George down the hall.
Ned opened the door.
George, misunderstanding the movement, rushed forward. But Ned didn't escort Danielle inside, ingratiating smile on his face; instead he recoiled, and George caught the faintest hint of a pleased expression on Danielle's face.
George, and Bess just behind her, turned.
Bess gasped. "Oh, my God."
--
Nancy woke the next morning feeling like hell. Pure alcohol-soaked hell. Unless Ned had traded up on the grape juice... Without opening her eyes, she felt for her left ring finger, and found the reassuring weight of her engagement and wedding rings. She was on her back, on the wrong side of the bed, on Ned's side. Her eyes opened and the sunlight coming through the lightly curtained window was damnably bright.
Guest bedroom.
No. Can't be right.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and once the light was shut out she just wanted to sleep again, to go somewhere where the deceptively muted pounding in her head would not finish its approach and cripple her. This was shaping up to be an old, familiar, fraternity-level hangover, the kind that spoiled the entire day and made the thought of eating a quease-inducing memory.
but i didn't drink anything
Her outflung arm touched no skin, no other occupant of the bed. She turned her head, cringing all the way, and gazed at the papasan chair beside the bed. The accumulation of overcute throw pillows had been placed in a somewhat organized pile just beneath, and George was curled inside, uncomfortably, the shallow angle of the chair giving her full exposure to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. She was blinking herself awake, but when she focused on Nancy, George didn't answer her smile with the same.
"Didn't expect you to be here," Nancy said thickly.
George put her stockinged feet on the floor, as though she needed to brace herself. Maybe to go downstairs for some coffee; Nancy felt entirely uncapable.
George had locked the door behind the last guest and fallen asleep just as the sun came up to end her nightlong vigil. And now that Nancy was awake, George felt utterly speechless.
"Michael's gone," she tried.
Nancy raised a hand to her pounding head. "Of course he is," she replied. "Unless you two hooked up last night and didn't tell me." She managed a faint smile.
George tried to process that answer, but found herself unable. She was exhausted, her nerves were on edge, and there was no charitable way to say it, not if Nancy was going to play it this way.
"Ned's gone."
--
Thirty minutes later Nancy was standing on Bess's front porch. She glanced around as she waited for someone to answer her knock, a hoodie half-hanging from her shoulder, car keys jangling in her nervous fist. The skin just below her eyes was dark with exhaustion, and she couldn't keep her gaze centered on any one thing for very long. A glider creaked gently in the breeze at the edge of the porch, the day was crisp and bright, and the inexplicable hangover Nancy was feeling came back full force, and with the pain came the clear-headedness that made everything George had told her seem like a nightmare. Had to be. Even though she'd searched every corner of their house. Ned was gone, the car was gone, the children were gone.
Nate answered the door. Nancy's sneakers squeaked softly against the porch as she shifted her weight. She was jittery, so easily startled that her skin felt inches thinner.
"Is Bess here?"
Nate nodded, his eyes guarded, and stepped back so Nancy could come in. She gave him a half watery smile and stood, restless, in the living room as Nate called for Bess.
The scowl on Bess's face faded as she saw Nancy. "You might want to go grab your daughter," she told Nate, then turned her attention back to Nancy. Nancy watched impatiently for Nate to leave before she spoke.
"What happened last night?"
"You know what happened," Bess replied, cautiously.
"Pretend I don't," Nancy replied, an edge in her voice. She shook her head sharply and looked at Bess.
"Sit down," Bess replied. "You're making me nervous."
Nancy emitted a harsh laugh at that, but obeyed. "What happened."
Bess seated herself in a dark green recliner and looked down at her hands. "You were in bed with Michael."
"Which bed?"
"The guest bed."
"In bed with him," Nancy repeated woodenly.
"Naked and under the covers and everything."
"I was naked?" Nancy repeated.
"From what I could see of you, yeah," Bess replied, shifting uncomfortably. "You at least had your shirt off."
"And bra?"
Bess nodded again. "But Nan, I promise--"
"And him?"
"Shirt off," Bess replied. "I only saw it for a second."
"Who else was there?"
"George and Ned and some blond girl. I don't remember her name."
"Light purple t-shirt and glitter jeans," Nancy replied dully.
"Yeah, that's what she was wearing."
Nancy rubbed her forehead. "Danielle."
"Could be."
Nancy didn't look at Bess. "Why did you go to that room? Were we making noise or something?"
"No," Bess replied. "George came to the door of the nursery, and I wondered what was going on, so I followed her out and Ned was walking down the hall with Danielle, and I didn't know whether he was-- well, I don't know," she said.
"Whether they were sneaking off together."
"Something like that," Bess replied. "And then he opened the door, and there you were."
"Lights on or off?"
"Off," Bess said.
"Did I say anything when Ned opened the door?"
"Don't you know?" Bess replied, looking at Nancy strangely. "You didn't say anything. You looked kinda out of it, like you'd had a few."
Nancy rubbed her forehead. "I'm nursing. I didn't have anything to drink last night, but I feel hungover as hell. After that what happened?"
"Ned got all quiet. That girl, Danielle, whatever, looked pleased. He went to your bedroom, and I went back to look after the kids. After a little while he came by and took them, and George volunteered to watch Stephanie and Madison for me for a while so I could go downstairs and grab a snack or something."
"And find out what everyone else was saying."
Bess nodded, looking embarrassed. "Ned was gone. I think Mike went with him."
"So he could be over at Mike's." Nancy clenched her car keys in her palm and stood.
Bess stood as well. "Why were you asking me all those questions?"
"Because I don't remember what happened last night," Nancy replied. "I gotta go."
Bess followed Nancy to the door, and when she reached it Nancy stopped and turned to look Bess straight in the eye. "You're not lying about this, are you?"
"I wish I was," Bess replied. "I wish to God I was. You didn't tell me you were seeing him."
"I wasn't," Nancy said. "I hadn't seen him since I went on maternity leave from work. It's been months."
"It's just--"
"What?" Nancy demanded, as Bess hesitated.
"You were having problems with Ned, and... I don't know, I just didn't think you'd do something like this."
"I didn't," Nancy said.
"But I saw it," Bess replied.
--
"Go to hell," Jan O'Shea said by way of greeting.
Nancy, fighting the tiredness and the pounding in her head, the sinking feeling that was growing in her chest, tried to peer around Jan. Ned's car wasn't in the driveway, but it could be in the garage, or somewhere else. Jan's outstretched arm prevented Nancy's further entry, and her dark eyes were flashing.
"Is Ned here?" Nancy asked.
Jan replied with a stony silence.
"Just tell me if he's here," Nancy said, and with every word she felt a bit more energy drain away. "I just need to talk to him. There's been some terrible misunderstanding."
Jan shook her head. "If you come back here I'm calling the cops."
She slammed the door, and Nancy closed her eyes for a second. Willing it to open again, willing Ned to be standing there, some amount of openness in his eyes, something she could work with.
But he didn't appear, and Nancy, afraid to test Jan's resolve, turned around and left, her head bowed.
--
Tracy, her light brown hair curled and in a high ponytail, was wearing a lifejacket as she walked into the restaurant. Nancy sat at a table, her palms wrapped around a mug of coffee, and when she saw Tracy she couldn't even manage to crack a smile.
Tracy slid breathlessly into the chair across from Nancy's, a few damp tendrils clinging to her temples, and said "Okay?"
Nancy continued to meditate on her coffee for a few more minutes, until she took a deep breath and found the strength within her to utter the words. "I need you to do a job for me," she said. "It needs to be you and only you, and if you absolutely have to, find someone you can trust to help."
"Simon," Tracy responded immediately. "He's good and he's discreet."
Nancy nodded, then looked into Tracy's hazel eyes for the first time during their meeting. "I think he'd be good, too. You're doing an excellent job."
Tracy just nodded, her eyes steady on Nancy's.
"I need you to find my husband," Nancy said. "And you're going to have to be careful, because he's worked with me before, and he knows the usual tricks. And I think he knows you but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know Simon."
Tracy just nodded. She had her notebook open at the edge of the table, a pen in her hand. Nancy hadn't even seen her produce it.
Nancy sighed. "You know what he looks like," she said. "Six-three, muscular build, dark hair and eyes, carries himself like an athlete. He's somewhere in the area. He may be staying with Mike O'Shea, who lives across the street and five doors down from me. I doubt it, though. He drives a silver late-model Jaguar."
Tracy took down Mike's address and the license tag of the car, then waited.
Nancy rubbed a hand over her face. "I want surveillance on him, once you locate him," Nancy said. "Nothing obtrusive. I want to know who goes to see him and how long she-- or he, stays," she said, and sighed. "Verbal reports, to me. You can reach me on my cell."
Tracy put the pen back in her pocket, flipped the notebook shut. "Starting now."
"Starting now," Nancy affirmed.
"Do you have a description of the woman you think might be with him?"
Nancy looked at Tracy directly again, trying to keep her gaze steady, but failed. "Five-five, blonde, green eyes, medium build. Danielle. I don't know her license number, what car she'll be driving, anything, but..."
Tracy nodded. "Okay," she said.
"I'll check in with you," Nancy said. "And thanks."
Tracy noded again, briskly. "Anytime," she said, then stood, the blue lifejacket still damp.
--
Bess didn't have Hannah Gruen's number. But Nancy did. And while Nancy was preoccupied, Bess found her cell, committed Hannah's number to memory, and returned it to her purse.
"We're worried about Nancy," Bess began.
"Is something wrong with the babies?"
Hannah listened to Bess's story, incredulous. She'd been there from the beginning, had been there the first time Bess and George had been invited over to their best friend's house, had shared Nancy's secrets, bandaged her scraped knees and packed her school lunches and learned Ned's favorite recipes for when he came over, in the time before, before they had changed and Nancy had left Ned and finally gone off for post-secondary education. She'd been the one to take Ned's desperate phone calls and lie for Nancy, believing and being proven right, in the end, that whatever they were going through was only temporary, that she would come to her senses and he would take her back as he always had.
She'd never thought anything like this would happen.
"She's a wreck," Bess said. "And Nancy can't remember what happened but I was there, and if I'd caught my husband in that situation, well, I wouldn't have stopped to ask questions either. It's been a few days and he hasn't come back. Nancy isn't eating. I doubt if she's sleeping. She doesn't want to leave the house in case he comes back. And she believes he will come back, that this is just a little fight, but..."
"You don't think so," Hannah finished for her.
Bess was quiet for a moment. "I've never seen the two of them like this," she replied. "And if you could just come up and maybe stay with her a few days, I know you might be busy or in the middle of something--"
"I can manage it," Hannah replied. "I'm glad you called."
--
The doorbell rang.
Nancy hadn't made herself anywhere near presentable. Since waking she'd subjected herself to an hour of working out, and now she had the stereo loud enough to be heard in the downstairs bathroom, where she was cleaning like a madwoman. Down on her hands and knees, smelling of bleach, dusting corners that had never seen the light of the fluorescent bulbs over the sink.
She stood. Black t-shirt streaked with bleach, faded jeans with the knees thin and stretched, a bandanna holding her hair away from her flushed and unwashed face. She dusted off her knees, shrugged, and made a run for the door.
The greeting she was about to make died on her upturned lips as she stood, right hand still resting on the edge of the door, lips slightly parted, and took in the man standing there.
Sandy blond hair, blue eyes, dark suit. Understated tie done in maroon and gold. Shined shoes. Muted gleaming black leather briefcase in his left hand. Gold tie tack.
Gold tie tack with the insignia of Ned's fraternity on it.
He was far from jovial, and his perfunctory smile upon her having opened the door faded. His eyes glinted.
"Miss Drew?"
"Mrs. Nickerson," she replied.
He stood expectantly, waiting for her to step back and allow him entrance, but her legs were slow to respond. Nothing cordial would make its way from her brain to her lips. Finally she summoned up enough strength to retreat and let him step over the doorway, and as he gained admission she felt as though some small battle had been lost.
"My name is Paul," he said, her eyes having traced his path from the front door to a spot near her end table, neutral lampshade, overstuffed couch cushion. "Paul Morris. I'm Mr. Nickerson's attorney."
Nancy licked her lips. No sound would emerge. Fear rose in her, quickly, but she forced it back. "Ned's attorney."
Paul nodded. After holding her blue eyes with his for a moment, he moved the few steps to the couch, sat down, placed the briefcase flat across his knees, snapped open the locks. "If you'd prefer, we could do this here, or meet at a later time in my office."
Nancy looked down at her clothes, unseeing. "I'm going to call my lawyer and change clothes," she said, her voice holding a confidence she couldn't feel. "Do you-- would you care for a drink?" she asked, mechanically.
He shook his head. "I'll wait."
She took the stairs with careful, measured tread, until she was out of his sight; she couldn't feel the carpet under her toes, couldn't feel anything. Her head started to throb. Once the bedroom door was closed she yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, then crossed the room swiftly and picked up the telephone.
"This is Carson Drew," her father said, his voice strong and assured. Upon hearing it Nancy blinked, then swallowed a few times, suddenly speechless. "Hello?"
"Dad," she said, then cleared her throat and repeated herself more normally. "Dad, I need you here now."
"What's wrong?"
"There's a lawyer downstairs," she said. "A guy who--"
"What's his name?"
"Paul Morris," Nancy said, putting a hand to her forehead. "This isn't-- are you in the middle of anything?"
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Carson said. "You don't need to say anything until I get there."
"Thanks," she said. She replaced the receiver, then stepped out of her jeans and stood in the doorway of the
their
closet.
what does one wear to talk to a husband's attorney?
She took a breath, slow and measured, then took the bandanna off and tied her hair back more securely. She took a quick, thorough shower, stepped into some khakis, found a button-down shirt, put on a light shade of lipstick. She had just stepped into some sandals when she heard the doorbell ring again.
Her father was standing there. Carson gave her a reassuring smile and stepped inside, then looked over Morris, who was still seated on Nancy's couch. Morris leapt to his feet and walked toward Carson, his hand outstretched.
"It's an honor to meet you, sir. I just wish it had been under different circumstances."
"As do I."
Paul shook Nancy's hand then, and the three of them sat down.
"Will Ned be joining us?" Carson asked, echoing Nancy's thoughts.
Paul shook his head, then looked straight at Nancy. "Mr. Nickerson does not wish to be present at this meeting or any others we may have, but he has communicated his wishes to me, and that's what I'm here to talk to you about.
"Ned does not want to talk to you at any time. Any messages you wish to give him, contact me and I will tell him. Any arrangement about child care or the like, will probably be handled through his parents, but if it's an emergency you can contact me and I'll let him know."
"Those sound like custody arrangements." Carson looked grave.
"Of course," Paul replied, sounding mildly surprised. "Mr. Nickerson is suing for divorce and at least partial custody of the children."
Nancy stopped breathing.
oh my God, no
She felt utterly numb. This was a terrible joke. Terrible. Any minute he'd walk through that door, smiling, apologizing. But this wasn't like him at all, he wouldn't do this to her, he wouldn't joke about this, he wouldn't, he wouldn't.
"So he has established a separate residence?"
Nancy nodded, without thinking; Paul, catching the movement, echoed it, his eyes still on her. "He is in the process of establishing a separate residence," he replied to Carson's question. "This house and its contents can remain in the possession of Miss Drew--"
"Mrs. Nickerson," Nancy said, her voice hard.
Paul nodded, but did not repeat her. "Any of the communal possessions you want to return to Mr. Nickerson, can be done through me or his parents."
"So that's it?" Nancy said, her voice barely audible.
Carson reached over and took her hand, and she accepted it, barely feeling the warmth against her palm.
"Does Mr. Nickerson plan to name any correspondents in his suit?" Carson asked.
Paul looked down at the notes in his hand. "Michael Delgado."
Nancy lifted the hand not in her father's grasp to her forehead and held it there, willing the sobs she could feel rising in her chest to stay until she was alone.
"But he is staying in the area, to reduce undue hardship on the children?"
Paul nodded. "He will stay in the area, and take the children on the weekends. Through his parents. Any problems in that arrangement..."
"Contact you," Carson finished.
Paul fell silent for a moment, looking back and forth between Nancy and her father. "This can all be over with in a month, if you don't contest it," he said. "Done and finished. I believe Ned to be exceedingly generous in what he's offering, taking into consideration that he has witnesses to your infidelity--"
"I didn't," Nancy said, her voice low and hard, keeping her tears in check with extreme effort. "I didn't do it. I didn't. You can tell him that. Tell him that for me if you're his damn mouthpiece, if you're the one who has advised him not to pick up his phone when I call--"
"He did that on his own," Paul advised coldly. "He doesn't want to talk to you, and I can't see that I blame him for that."
"I need to explain."
"There's nothing to explain," Paul said. "There are no excuses you can make. And crying's not going to do you a damn bit of good," he went on, as the first tear slid down Nancy's cheek. "He and I go way back. And I'd love to rip you to pieces on the stand and make sure you never see your children again."
Carson stood. "This interview's over."
Nancy's limbs were wooden as Carson closed the door behind Paul. Her father came over to her and put an arm around her shoulders.
She lowered her head to her knees and cried in great gasping, heaving sobs that left no room for breath or comfort.
