But even as I said it, I could hear how false it sounded. Andrew stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head. My mother called today. She wants us to come to Sunday dinner this week. My stomach dropped.
Eleanor Malow had never liked me. Had never thought I was good enough for her precious son. She had an uncanny ability to see through people's facads. Do we have to go? Yes, Andrew said firmly.
We're going. As he left the kitchen, I heard him mutter something under his breath that chilled me to the bone. Time to find out what's really going on. Sunday dinner at Eleanor and Simon Mallow's house was always an ordeal. But this week felt like walking into a courtroom.
Elellanena, 61 and sharp as a razor, had that look in her eyes, the one that said she knew something was wrong and wouldn't stop until she figured out what. Cres a dear," she said as we settled around their dining room table. "You look tired. " "Everything all right? " "Just busy with work," I replied, focusing intently on cutting Laya's roast beef. "You know how it is. " "Mllena's gray eyes missed nothing. " "Andrew mentioned you've been going out more lately. Book club, was it? " My hand slipped and the knife clattered against the plate.
Yes, it's nice to have some intellectual stimulation. Simon, Andrew's father, cleared his throat uncomfortably. He'd always been the peacekeeper, trying to smooth over his wife's more pointed observations. "What are you reading? " Elellanena continued, her voice deceptively casual. I scrambled for an answer.
"Oh, um, contemporary fiction mostly. You probably haven't heard of the authors. Try me. I read quite extensively. The silence stretched out, broken only by Laya's chatter about her friend's birthday party.
I could feel Andrew watching me, waiting to see how I'd handle his mother's interrogation. "Actually," Eleanor said, setting down her fork with deliberate precision. "I ran into Margaret Henderson at the grocery store yesterday. She mentioned that the library's book club has been on hiatus for 3 weeks due to the librarian's medical leave. My blood turned to ice.
Margaret Henderson was the librarian. Of course, Eleanor would know her. Different book club, I said quickly. This one meets at at someone's house. Whose house?
Sarah's Sarah who? The questions came rapid fire and I felt trapped, cornered. Sarah from work. You don't know her. What's her last name?
Why does it matter? I snapped louder than I'd intended. Laya looked up, startled by my tone. Elellanena raised an eyebrow. I was simply making conversation, dear.
No need to get defensive. I'm not defensive. I just don't understand why I'm being interrogated about book club. Nobody's interrogating anyone, Simon said gently. But Eleanor wasn't done.
It's just that Andrew was so worried Friday night. Called us at midnight asking if we'd heard from you. Said he couldn't reach you. That your phone was going straight to voicemail. I looked at Andrew in shock.
You called your parents. I was scared something had happened to you, he said quietly. You'd never stayed out all night without calling before. I told you my phone died. Funny thing about that, Eleanor said, her voice still conversational, but with an edge that could cut glass.
Andrew showed me the phone records. Your phone was active until nearly 2:00 in the morning. Several calls to numbers he didn't recognize. The room spun around me. Phone records.
How had she gotten those? "I don't know what you're talking about," I said, but my voice came out weak, unconvincing. "Don't you? " Eleanor leaned forward slightly. "Because it seems to me like someone's been telling stories, and I don't appreciate my son being lied to. " Elellanar. Simon warned, glancing at Leela, who was watching the adults with growing anxiety.
No, Simon. Someone needs to say it. Eleanor's eyes never left mine. I've seen this before. The lies, the defensiveness, the sudden need for girls nights out.
I wasn't born yesterday, Cresada. You don't know what you're talking about, I said standing abruptly. I don't have to sit here and listen to this. Yes, you do. Andrew said quietly, and something in his tone made me freeze.
Sit down, Cresider. I'd never heard that tone from him before. Cold, authoritative, final. It scared me more than Eleanor's accusations. Andrew, sit down.
I sat, my legs suddenly shaky. "Where were you Friday night? " he asked, his voice still deadly calm. "And don't say book club. We both know that's a lie. I was out with friends from work, I said, grasping for any story that might work.
We went to that new restaurant downtown, then back to Sarah's place. Which restaurant? I I don't remember the name. What did you eat? Why are you doing this?
What did you eat, Cresa? I stared at him, this stranger wearing my husband's face. Pasta. I had pasta. What kind?
Does it matter? It matters because you're lying, Eleanor said flatly. You weren't at any restaurant. You weren't at book club. So, where were you?
I don't have to answer to you, I said, turning to Andrew. Or to you. I'm a grown woman. I can go out without being treated like a criminal. You can go out, Andrew agreed.
But you can't lie about it. Not to me, not to our daughter, and not to yourself. I'm not lying. Then prove it, Eleanor said. Give us Sarah's number.
Let us call her. The trap snapped shut around me. There was no Sarah from work, no restaurant, no innocent explanation for where I'd been or what I'd done. I don't have to prove anything, I said, standing again. Come on, Laya.
We're leaving. But Laya didn't move. She was staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. Mommy, why are you yelling? The question hit me like a slap.
I was yelling. I was scaring my own daughter, dragging her into this mess I'd created. "I'm not yelling, baby. I'm just Grandma and I had a disagreement. " "Are you and Daddy getting divorced? " she asked in a small voice that broke my heart. "No," I said quickly.
But even as the word left my mouth, I saw Andrew's face. The coldness there, the distance. "No, sweetie. Mommy and daddy are fine. " But we weren't fine. We were the opposite of fine.
Andrew stood slowly, gathering his coat in Laya's jacket. We should go, Andrew. Eleanor said softly. If you need anything, I know, Mom. Thank you.
The drive home was silent except for Laya's quiet sniffling in the back seat. I kept glancing at Andrew, trying to read his expression, but his face was a mask. At home, he tucked Yla into bed while I paced the living room, my mind racing. How much did he know? How much did he suspect?
And what was I going to do about it? When he came downstairs, he was carrying a small notebook I'd never seen before. What's that? I asked. Insurance, he said simply, settling into his chair and opening it.
Insurance for what? He looked up at me, and I saw something in his eyes that made my blood run cold. Not anger, not hurt, something much worse. Disappointment. For when you finally decide to tell me the truth, he said, or when I find it out myself.