Owen and Bobby are becoming best friends. And honestly, it’s a relief.
There’s nothing wrong with Leo Bressler, Bobby’s former best friend. Except for the fact that his mother is Julie. Don’t get me wrong—I love Julie. But sometimes I get the distinct feeling she doesn’t care much for my son. Every time Bobby goes to Julie’s house, there’s some sort of a problem. The last time he went over, she went on and on about how he didn’t take his shoes off and now there was dirt on her white carpet. I swear, she acted like he had committed murder.
Who gets a white carpet when they have young sons? Tell me, who?
Maria doesn’t have carpeting at all, and she doesn’t have a hysterical meltdown if you don’t remove your shoes the second you step through the door. I swear to God, Julie makes the mailman take his shoes off to deliver her mail.
This afternoon, Bobby and Owen are having a playdate at our house and are out in the backyard, while Maria and I sit in the kitchen and discuss the silent auction. We have gotten a record-breaking number of donations so far, and people are bidding enthusiastically on the app. The bid for Chelsea’s Yankee tickets just surpassed $3000.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Maria says as she takes a sip of peppermint tea, “but people in this town are too rich for their own good.”
“I agree.” I pick up one of the raspberry tartlets I made earlier this afternoon and pop it in my mouth. I did a show on raspberry tartlets a few months ago—the secret is using vanilla bean rather than vanilla extract for the pastry cream. I’m allowing myself exactly two tartlets and that’s it. “But I’m also wildly jealous.”
“Well, of course.” She giggles and picks up her purse, which she had hung on the back of her chair. “By the way, I brought something for you. A present.”
“A present?” I clap my hands together. I will never be too old to be excited about getting a present. “What is it?”
She pulls a little white box out of her purse and slides it across the table. A white box. That can only mean jewelry—maybe something from
Helena’s.
I crack the top open and see a necklace-length chain inside. There’s a charm on the chain, which is a tiny silver woman with a squiggly circle on her abdomen. Well, it’s not really her abdomen so much as her giant pelvis.
I’m not entirely sure how to react.
“It’s a fertility charm,” Maria says. “My sister used that to conceive my niece and my nephew. She says it really works.”
“I see…”
“You’re skeptical,” Maria notes. “I don’t blame you. I am not into all this weird charm voodoo stuff either—I mean, it sure didn’t work for me, but I have other issues. But my sister was trying to have a baby for five years, and one month after she got this charm, she got pregnant.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
I look down at the charm again. It does seem rather hard to believe that a necklace could be enough to get me pregnant. If I told Elliot, he would laugh at me. He would tell me to go to that infertility specialist and finally get worked up.
I shudder. I really, really don’t want to go down that path.
“Anyway, my sister is done having kids,” she says. “So you can keep the necklace and wear it if you want. Hey, what have you got to lose?”
That’s true. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“But for the record,” Maria adds, “I don’t think there’s any chance Elliot would leave you because you can’t get pregnant again.”
I close my fingers around the tiny silver charm. “You haven’t seen his secretary. She’s gorgeous. And really young. Probably very fertile. He could probably get her pregnant just by looking at her the wrong way.”
“Oh, come on! Elliot wouldn’t do that to you.” I swallow. “Yeah. I’m sure you’re right.”
Maria excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She’s been over enough times lately that she doesn’t have to ask where it is. Even though we haven’t known each other that long, there are times when I feel like I’ve known her for ages. And I’ve completely forgotten about what she did to me during that book club. Well, I haven’t forgotten it, but I know she didn’t do it on purpose.
I glance out at the backyard, to where Owen and Bobby are playing together. They look like they’re playing tag. I still feel uneasy about how
Bobby disappeared from the backyard that time. And the text message. But then again, nobody stole him—he left on his own volition, according to Maria. Either way, I’ve been keeping a much closer eye on him lately, especially now that the text messages have continued. The only thing besides school I allow him to do is go to the park to play soccer with Sean Cooper. I trust Sean.
A buzzing sound draws my attention away from the backyard. It’s coming from Maria’s purse. Her phone must be ringing on silent.
I start to call out her name to tell her she’s got a phone call, but then I realize something. Her iPhone is lying on our kitchen table.
I glance over at the hallway leading to the bathroom. No sign of Maria. I get up out of my seat and look down inside her purse to see what’s making the noise. I try not to touch anything, because I don’t want her to think I’ve been going through her purse, even though I sort of am.
There’s a phone in there. A flip phone.
Why does Maria have a flip phone in her purse when she has a perfectly good iPhone? That is really strange. It looks like one of those burner phones that you can buy with a prepaid card if you don’t want somebody to track you down. But why would Maria have one of those?
I glance at the hallway one more time, then quietly remove the phone from her purse. It stops ringing just as I get it in my hand. I open it up and see a number on the screen, but no name attached.
Why would Maria have a burner phone? Who has she been calling with it?
And then I think of all those text messages from blocked numbers. That couldn’t be Maria, could it? Why would she do something like that? It doesn’t make any sense.
And then a text message appears on her screen:
When can we meet?
My mouth falls open. Is Maria having an affair? Is she cheating on Sean? I can’t imagine Maria doing something like that, but why would she have a burner phone in her purse and be arranging clandestine meetings with someone?
The area code on the number is local. It’s somebody from around here.
I look for a scrap of paper to scribble down the number, but before I can find one, I hear running water from down the hallway. I quickly snap the phone closed and drop it back into her purse. I can’t let her know I was digging around inside her purse.
“Mom!”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice coming from behind me. It’s Bobby and Owen. Their hands are caked in fresh dirt, and my son also has some on his cheeks. That’s a good indication they’ve been having fun.
“Mom, Owen pushed me!” Bobby whines. He scrunches up his freckled nose.
Owen folds his skinny arms across his chest. “No, Bobby pushed me.” I groan. “Can’t you both say you’re sorry?”
“No!” Bobby looks affronted. “Owen pushed me! He pushed me off the swing and I fell on the ground.”
Admittedly, Bobby’s pants legs are caked in dirt. But that’s nothing unusual.
Owen blinks eyes that are rapidly filling with tears. He has Maria’s dimples even though he’s not biologically related to her, but he has his father’s blue eyes with long eyelashes. He looks like the sort of kid who will be handsome someday. A real ladykiller, but he doesn’t know it yet. “I didn’t push you. I was on the swing and you said it was your turn, but it wasn’t. And then you pushed me off.”
Thankfully, Maria emerges from the bathroom at that moment. The boys reiterate their dilemma to her, both of them insisting that they were pushed. At this point, I really don’t care who pushed who. I’m sure even if Owen pushed Bobby, he didn’t mean anything by it.
“You both need to say you’re sorry,” Maria says firmly. “Now.”
After a bit more coaxing, both the boys mutter apologies. I don’t know what’s so hard about saying sorry. It’s like apologizing is physically painful for them. I say sorry about a hundred times a day. Even if it’s not my fault.
“I better take Owen home now.” Maria flashes an apologetic smile. “I think the boys have had enough of each other today.”
“Would you like some raspberry tartlets to go?”
She looks longingly at the plate. “I would, but I shouldn’t. Honestly, April, I’m going to gain twenty pounds living next to you.”
We hug goodbye and Maria drops her iPhone into her purse. I’m dying to ask her why she has a burner phone, but I suspect anything she tells me will be a lie. I still can’t believe she’s having an affair. Especially when she’s married to Sean, who is crazy sexy.
But the other explanation is too disturbing to consider.
After Maria and Owen leave, I decide I better get Bobby in the bathtub. I turn to look at my son, and that’s when I noticed the darkening red patch on the right knee of his jeans.
“Bobby!” I cry. “What happened to your knee?” “I told you, Owen pushed me off the swing!”
I roll up the pants leg while Bobby squirms. When I get it up over his knee, I gasp. He skinned his knee really badly. His entire kneecap is covered in blood and it’s streaming down his leg. Bobby takes one look at it and bursts into tears.
“I told you!” He howls. “It huuuuuuurts!”
That’s how little kids are. They don’t even realize they have any pain until they see that they’re injured. But I have to admit, this is an impressive wound. It’s going to call for the first aid kit I’ve got in the hall closet. And Bobby is going to complain the whole time I’m cleaning it up.
But more significantly, it means Bobby was the one telling the truth.
Owen pushed Bobby off the swing and then lied about it.
For a moment, I consider giving Maria a call. If Owen pushed another kid and then lied about it, she would want to know, right? But then again, boys love to roughhouse. And it’s not like Bobby got a broken arm. It’s just a scrape.
So I don’t call Maria. But next time I see her, maybe I’ll mention it.
