Read Online The Comfort of Lies by Randy Susan Meyers - Free Book Online Page B

one for each year of the child’s life and one as a newborn. The child’s serious expressions, more intent each year, tapped open Juliette’s heart. Warmth toward the girl, so unexpected that Juliette almost cried, trickled in. Nathan’s mother showed in the child; Nathan’s mother, who still wore the sober face of an immigrant. Nathan’s parents were fifty years in New York but still expected the real Americans to send them back to Hungary. They carried a fearful gratitude for having escaped the Communist noose around the neck of the Hungarian Jews. Nathan, their only child, born eleven years later, accepted the dreams his parents fed him, along with rich milk, red meat, and their veneration of education.
    Nathan’s parents still gasped in joy each time they saw their strong, good-looking American son; Juliette, their szép —beautiful—daughter-in-law; and their handsome grandsons.
    Shouldn’t they know they had a granddaughter?
    Juliette examined Savannah’s face. She brought the photo closer. Even as she wanted to shred it, she recognized that the child looked like family.
    But Nathan’s, not hers. Not theirs together.
    Gwynne knocked on the car window. Rain dripped in as Juliette rolled it down.
    “What are you doing out here?” Gwynne held the Boston Globe over her head with one hand and pointed at the pictures with the other. “Who’s that?”
    Juliette shoved the pictures and letter into her large leather bag. “One of those Sally Struthers kids.”
    “The Christian Children’s Fund?” Gwynne twisted a corner of her mouth up. “Are you sure that’s the best place to give?”
    No doubt Gwynne had a list of better charities in her purse, ready to be whipped out and given as a guideline for giving. If she didn’t love hot showers and air-conditioning so much, Gwynne would be in some jungle saving the planet, bringing her kids with her. She was big on exposing her kids to the right thing to do, often saying she prayed that didn’t backfire and lead to raising four nihilistic ladies who lunched.
    “It’s called the ChildFund International now.” Actually, Juliette had sponsored a child and was embarrassed that she’d pulled it out as a cover. Somehow that seemed so wrong.
    “When did you start that?” Gwen asked.
    “I don’t brag,” Juliette said. “One is supposed to give quietly.”
    “Give quietly to Christian funds?” Gwynne and Juliette were both married to Jewish men. Two blondes with dark men; they were quite the clichés. Juliette’s father was nominally Jewish, but her parents didn’t pay religion or culture much attention past the annual Christmas party.
    “Are we going in?” Juliette asked.
    Gwynne moved back from the door, arms up. “I wasn’t the one out here mooning over little Christian babies.”
    Who adopted Nathan’s daughter? Who were these good people, this doctor-woman and computer-man from Dover, a town so old money, it made the town of Wellesley appear nouveau riche?
     • • • 
    Their shop still held the cool basil-lemon scent they sprayed each night before leaving. Minimalist displays were in the same perfect order in which Gwynne and Juliette left them each evening. Outside, engraved into a steel plate in flowing black lines, the shop’s name topped the large glass window, the same simple logo used in every brochure, card, and advertisement—all designed to capture the taste of the women of Wellesley and the surrounding circle of the wealthiest towns in Massachusetts.
    Since they’d opened five years ago, they’d done everything possible to build a loyal customer base, from hiring top designers fortheir packaging, to using the highest-grade organic ingredients. Even when euros sped past dollars, they’d continued using expensive oils pressed from flowers grown in the soil of Ireland’s Burren. Child care was provided in a big, bright room carpeted in sunshine yellow. Juliette and Gwynne cut no corners in building their premium