Read The Last Secret for Free Online Page B

depth and connection? Caring? Love? Around the table mouths open and close, laughing, talking, drinking, smiling.
Boring Nora, always way too serious, well, she finally got her comeuppance, and this soundless screaming, can't they hear the madwoman? Of course they can. They're just pretending, being polite. Mustn't spoil their evening. Their ball. All the expensive dresses. Their delight in one another. Stupid to have come. She doesn't belong here. Never has. Never will.
    This morning Drew asked to spend the weekend at his friend Billy's house. He didn't say so, but he wants to escape the bedlam of slamming doors, the sudden tears, Ken's sorrow, her flights into the bathroom, where she runs the shower to drown out the moaning.Drew's request triggered another memory, the last time he spent the weekend at Billy's. Just this past December. Ken had driven up to Burlington that Friday for a conference of New England newspaper publishers. He called early that evening to say there was a blizzard and rather than risk a treacherous drive back, he'd get a room and leave first thing the next morning. Of course, she said. Good idea. No problem. She should have gone online and checked the weather up in Vermont. Probably still could. She'd need the date. December's telephone bill. He probably drove up there with
her
, the two of them laughing in anticipation of a night together without excuses, making a joke of not having to sneak in, God knows when, and pretend that he'd fallen asleep on the couch, watching television. Thinking back, she is shocked at her blindness.
    The glittering din, all these smiling faces, talking at once, the gold and black themed ballroom teeming with people who know that Ken and Robin Gendron … what? How do they put it? Slept together? Had an affair? Not for four years—no, four years is more than that. Four years is commitment. It's love. That's what Ken means by
relationship.
    “Smile!” Jimmy Lee has them all pushing their chairs closer to fit in the picture. “You're not smiling, Mrs. Hammond!” Jimmy says from behind his camera.
    She tries.
    “Better than that, Mrs. Hammond! You look like you've just lost your best friend,” he chides.
    Joanne Whiteman glances at Bibbi Bond, who draws a deep breath, ticks her square red nails on the rim of her plate.
    The adultery support group, Nora thinks, flashing a wider smile. After the picture, Ken excuses himself and, with frail Evvie on his arm, goes off in search of other ball committee members, Jimmy Lee in their wake, bags of equipment slung from his black leather coat. As the
Chronicle
's front man, Ken is their Kiwanian, their Elk, their Rotarian, their chamber of commerce vice president, their hospital board treasurer, their Boy Scouts board member, their greater Franklin Ecumenical Executive Council member. Ken attends luncheons andribbon cuttings, while behind his locked door, Oliver pores over text, and Stephen manages finances. A perfect weave of temperaments.
    “Hi, hon. How're you doing?” Bibbi slips into Ken's chair, squeezing her hand with a solicitous smile.
    “Fine. Just fine.” She pulls her hand away.
    “That was a great picture of you in
Newsweek.”
Bibbi says Letitia Crane wants her to help out at Sojourn House.
    “Really?” She's unable to look away from Bibbi's smooth, round face, the bright-eyed, clawing little animal. Robin Gendron's best friend and also prep school classmate of Ken's. The same sympathetic expression he must have sought out when he needed someone to talk to, to share their secret with, so, of course, he would have chosen this bubble of insincerity. Oh, the intrigue of it all, and Bibbi's delight these last four years.
    The orchestra is playing “Some Enchanted Evening” as the first few couples begin to dance. The last dishes are being cleared by waitresses in ruffly black aprons. But Donald continues to eat. Free of Stephen's monitoring eyes, he's cutting the prime rib Joanne just passed his way. Nora's