Read Online Four of a Kind by Valerie Frankel - Free Book Online

serious?”
    Alicia grinned and said, “Nah.”
    Carla burst out laughing, an explosion that shook the room. It was infectious, and suddenly all four women were howling.
    Robin was still breathing heavily from the release of tension. She made eye contact with Alicia across the table, and said, “Good one, Alicia. You must kill at your ad agency.”
    “I wish,” said the tiny brunette.
    Carla, meanwhile, had walked around the table to the bookshelf built into the wall. She gently opened the glass door, moved a few of her figurines aside, and knocked gently on the wood panel behind them. A hidden door unlatched.
    Bess said, “Look at that. I
love
old houses.”
    Carla reached into the secret compartment, and pulled out a full bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
    Robin shook her head. “Bloody hypocrite.”
    “I said I don’t allow drinking
in the house
,” sniffed Carla. “Alicia, grab a few Dixie cups on the kitchen sink.”
    The ladies retired to the front porch with Jack, taking seats on wicker chairs or on the railing. Alicia passed out the paper cups, and Carla poured a finger of the lethal liquid into each. They toasted and sipped. Robin lit a cigarette, never loving the taste so much.
    Alicia said, “We are TMI-ing all over the place tonight.”
    “With a surprising lack of sentimentality,” said Bess. To Robin, she said, “You talk about major life events as if they didn’t happen to you.”
    Robin nodded. She knew she came off sometimes as detached.Was that why she was so good at her job? “When I was telling the story just now,” she said, “it felt like I was talking about a made-up person. I’m a character in my own life.” It occurred to Robin, at that second, that for much of her existence, she’d watched herself as if through a scrim, a transparent wall of gauze, like at the ballet. She’d been a witness to her own history, keeping a few steps of emotional distance from experiences and people, including, she was ashamed to realize, her own daughter. She’d lied to Stephanie about her conception, and that was wrong. The sudden insight wet her eyes, and she noticed that her hand shook slightly as she lifted the Dixie cup to her lips.
    “What made you break out the booze?” Robin asked Carla.
    “I figured you needed a drink,” said Carla.
    “You figured right,” said Robin.
    “You’re going to have to contact this man one of these days. You need his family health history,” said Carla. “And Stephanie deserves to know the truth.”
    “What’s his name? Do you remember?” asked Bess.
    “Tim Fandine,” said Robin.
    Hearing her husband’s name, Alicia laughed. “Funny,” she said.
    “It’s Harvey Wilson,” said Robin.
    A sedan pulled up across the street. Parked. The motor and lights switched off, and a man stepped out. Robin vaguely recognized tall and broad Claude Morgan from having seen him at Brownstone. He took long, but tentative strides toward his house, surprised to see three white women drinking out of paper cups on his porch.
    When he got close enough, he said, “Evening.”
    The women said hello.
    Carla introduced him and then said, “Did you remember to pick up milk? I asked you to get some on the way home.”
    Claude frowned. “You did. Sorry, Carla. I completely forgot.”
    The four women tittered into their cups, Carla the loudest.

3

Bess
    “What do we have here?” asked Borden. He stood in the master bedroom, holding the box. The kids had been put to bed hours ago.
    Sitting on the edge of their king-sized bed, Bess rubbed moisturizer into her elbows and said, “I bought those today.”
    The pair of black high-heeled, knee-high patent leather boots had thrilled her to tears when she tried them on at Tango, a boutique on Montague Street. They were totally impractical and cost way too much. But Bess felt exhilarated by the teetering height, the close fit around her calf, the shine of the leather as she strutted around the store. She felt like Wonder Woman,