Something was wrong with the chandelier in the entry hall. The flambeau bulbs were tilted sideways in the plastic cups that were supposed to simulate Waterford crystal. The decorator had assured Nell that “no one can tell the difference.” Already one bulb had fallen out and smashed on the black-and-white–tiled floor that was supposed to be indistinguishable from marble.
A similar problem affected the light fixtures in the great hall, replicas of medieval torches arranged in clusters. A peculiar smear on the inner frames of the triple-glazed windows across the front of the room indicated the sealant was… was what? Dissolving?
“Nell?” Bennett shouted. “Cookie! We’ve got some problems down here!”
No answer.
Where was everybody?
It was far too early for his wife to go into town to that office of hers. Jessamyn and Colin were on summer holiday and undoubtedly still asleep, which explained why there was no sound from them. Bennett strode to the kitchen. Although Nell was an early riser there were no breakfast dishes set out on the polished granite countertop. No coffee was perking in the latest espresso maker.
Nothing was perking anywhere.
When Bennett opened the walk-in refrigerator the light was out. The recessed lights under the kitchen cabinets also failed to come on. He repeatedly thumbed his AllCom to restore electricity to the system, but nothing happened.
Unbelievable.
In the bedroom wing the master bedroom looked normal; their double-king bed was made up and the doors of the two walk-in closets were closed. When he opened Nell’s and peered in the light didn’t come on, but he could see that her clothes were hanging neatly on their hangers. But the beds in the kids’ rooms were unmade. In their twin bathrooms the basins and bathtubs were dry to the touch. Unused towels hung on their rails with the monogram facing outward, as he demanded they must do.
The people who should have been in the house were nowhere to be found. Not even the dogs were there. The Irish setters were not shedding hair all over the carpets, nor was the Rottweiler barking in his chain-link pen outside.
The mock-Normandy château was as unnaturally silent as the complex in the woods.
He savagely thumbed his AllCom, trying to force a response from his wife wherever she was. No reply.
He hurried to the attached three-car garage to see if her car was still there. It was. He yanked open the door—she never thought to lock it in their own garage—and briefly inhaled the scent of Chanel that wafted out from the little two-seater sports car.
Bennett felt his anger spike.
How typical of Nell to buy a car that was too small to accommodate a man’s legs! But where is she? And where are the dogs, for God’s sake?
What the hell is going on? Who the hell is in charge?
8
Eleanor Bennett had awakened in a fog of depression. As she slept it had crept up on her; depression about her marriage and the effect it was having on her children, depression about the future…
The deep comfort of the bed was like a hug and she needed a hug. A glance at the luminous dial built into the nightstand told her it was too early to get up.
But action was preferable to lying there tying herself into knots.
Maybe I’m taking too many diet pills.
Rob’s side of the bed was empty, and for once she was glad. If her husband were a different sort of man she could have discussed her feelings with him, but she knew what would happen if she tried. Rob would just say, “Early menopause, Cookie?”
A woman must stand on her own two feet and be able to look out for herself. Stubbornly, and against all the emotional roadblocks her husband put in her way, Nell had persevered until the proud day when she watched her name being painted on her office door. Assigning her a place of her own in the world.
It was time to face that world again.
In the bathroom she discovered that the handle of her electric toothbrush had dissolved. She stood beside the basin, staring down at the blue puddle on the edge of the sink.
Remembering the bank card.
She felt an irresistible urge to go someplace else. Anyplace else.
Do something different.
“To hell with it!”
Just saying that made her feel better.
Instead of her usual subtle makeup she applied a thorough coat of sunscreen to her face and the backs of her hands and dabbed lip gloss on her mouth. She replaced the tailored suit she had laid out the evening before with a pair of skinny jeans and a blue chambray shirt. A wide leather belt showed off her narrow waist. Well-worn loafers from the back of her closet had not seen shoe polish for years, but welcomed her feet like old friends. She did not activate her AllCom but tucked it into the pocket of her jeans; today she would not be at anyone’s beck and call. The ensemble was completed by a wide-brimmed straw hat.
Then she went down the hall to awaken Jessamyn and Colin.
“Come on, kids! It’s a beautiful morning, so I thought we’d go for a hike to Daggett’s Woods before it gets too hot. We’ll take the dogs. All three of them could use the exercise.”
Agonized groans of protest greeted her announcement.
“I mean it! Roll out so we can make a start.”
“Without breakfast?” Colin was scandalized.
“We’ll walk more comfortably on an empty stomach, then I’ll spring for blueberry pancakes at that restaurant on the highway. Perhaps your father will join us.”
Jessamyn said, “You know I don’t eat pancakes, Mom. Think of all those calories. Besides, I thought we were going on a shopping trip later. The summer will be over before I get a new bikini! That’s not fair!”
“I’m not getting up for any hike in the woods,” Colin added, “we don’t do stuff like that. When did we ever do stuff like that?”
“When I was your age my dad took me for long walks.”
“Why didn’t you just go to the gym?”
Eleanor Bennett adopted her husband’s tone of command. “You heard me. Up and at ’em. Now!”
Taking the kids on a hike today was not one of my best ideas, she told herself an hour later.
Her son and daughter complained every step of the way and there were far more steps than she had realized. In the car the access road to RobBenn seemed like a relatively short distance from the house. On foot it was miles, even with a shortcut through Daggett’s Woods.
Colin claimed they had walked twenty miles at least.
“You don’t know how far twenty miles is,” his sister told him.
“You’ve never walked one mile,” the boy shot back.
“Well, I don’t intend to walk another one,” said Jessamyn—loudly, for her mother’s benefit. “I’ve got a blister on my heel and I hate the country, it stinks. And there’s bugs. I hate bugs. What are we doing out here anyway?”
Nell could not admit to her children that flight was her response to anxiety. “We’re here to surprise your father,” she said brightly. “We’ll appear out of nowhere and take him to lunch.”
Jessamyn whimpered, “I hope he has some calamine lotion in his desk, I’m being eaten alive.”
“You’ll give some bug a bellyache,” said her brother. “You better get used to ’em though, ’cause Mom’s lost.”
Nell gritted her teeth and kept walking. The two setters frisked around her, their russet coats gleaming in the sun. Her husband’s overweight Rottweiler paced stoically behind them. Any sense of play Satan possessed had faded long ago.
They stopped when they reached a clearing in the trees. At its center stood a small dolmen made of rough slabs of stone. Nearby was a makeshift altar holding a few tiny animal figures and a stub of candle stuck in the neck of an empty glass bottle.