Hush

gambit? All she knew for sure was that a face-to-face with him was the last thing she needed now. She started to turn, calculating how to retreat without him seeing her.

But before she had fully spun around, Jack spotted her.

“Lake,” he called out, less a salutation and more of an order for her to stop. Though he usually wore business casual for work, today he was really dressed down-khaki pants, a pale yellow polo shirt, and, to her shock, flip- flops-as if he were about to split for the Hamptons that afternoon with a bunch of twenty-four-year-olds. He stuffed both hands in his pockets and strode toward her with that cocksure gait of his.

In the first weeks after his departure, she had yearned for her encounters with him-on those weekends and occasional week-k nights when he’d come to pick up or drop off the kids. As betrayed as she’d felt, she missed him, literally ached for him some nights. In her mind back then he was like a person who’d gone off his meds. She believed that if she was simply patient enough, he’d straighten out and come back to her.

But it soon became clear there was no way of communicating with him. The first few times he’d brought the kids back, he’d agreed to join her for coffee in the kitchen-with Amy and Will ensconced in their bedrooms-and each time she’d experimented with a different tactic. Calm and slightly detached hadn’t worked; neither had a sympathetic ear. Finally she’d resorted to pathetic imploring-please, come back, she’d begged, for the sake of the kids and their fourteen years together. He’d shrugged her off, saying that he’d made up his mind, that they didn’t share the same needs and goals and that it was definitely over. Talking to him, she realized, was like driving onto a stretch of black ice on the highway and being hopelessly unable to gain traction.

So for the sake of her sanity-and self-esteem-she’d stopped the coffee klatches and instead went down to the lobby to meet him for each pickup and drop-off. She willed herself not to be so affected by his presence. Sometimes her eyes barely met Jack’s during their brief exchanges.

But her reaction this morning was totally different. The sight of him, in light of the recent lob via his lawyer, nearly made her sick.

“Have you got a minute?” he asked as he approached.

“Now’s not a good time,” she said coolly.

“I just need a few papers from the apartment.”

When Jack had conceded that it made sense for Lake and the kids to keep the apartment, they had agreed that he’d be able to store some clothes and papers there until his sublet was up and he bought a place of his own. He usually picked up items he needed when he brought the kids home. This out-of-the-blue request seemed odd, suspicious even.

She knew she couldn’t let him go upstairs. He might pick up a hint that something was terribly wrong in her life.

“I’m not even going up right now,” she said. “I just realized I left a folder at a client’s and I need to go back for it.”

“Look, I really need those papers today.”

Damn, she thought, if I don’t say yes, he’ll tell the psychologist I’m uncooperative.

“All right,” she said, keeping her voice flat. “Why don’t you tell me where the papers are and I’ll bring them down.”

He grimaced and shook his head.

“I’m not exactly sure where I left them. I’m going to have to come up and hunt around a little.”

She took a deep breath.

“For God’s sake, Lake, I’m not going to bite,” he said. “It’ll take all of five minutes.”

She felt a sudden urge to shove him down on the sidewalk.

“Fine,” she conceded.

They rode up the elevator in silence. Now that she was standing closer to him, she could see that Jack’s slightly round, boyish face was more tanned than it had been in years, and his dark blond hair was coarse-the kind of coarseness that comes from lots of sun and salt water. Obviously he’d been true to his pledge to live large this summer, to-how had he put it?-go big or go home. She felt a wave of disgust. He might in fact feel entitled to his new major-player lifestyle, but the deep tan and flip-flops came across to her as desperation.

“I’m just curious,” she finally said to him, still trying to keep her voice even. “Were you just going to wait outside the building until I came home?”

“You mean was I stalking you, Lake-is that what you’re asking?” There was anger in his voice.

“Of course not. But it seems like an awful waste of time.”

“You didn’t pick up your cell phone so I called that clinic where you work. They said you’d just left so I took a chance and came over here.”

“Did you call me there yesterday, too?” she asked, startled by the revelation.

“Yes-is that a problem?”

So Jack was the mystery caller. “I’m just wondering how you got the number,” she said.

“I decided to blow a buck and called 411.”

“I meant, how did you know the name of the clinic?”

“You mentioned it at one point when we were talking about the kids.”

She didn’t remember ever doing so, but she couldn’t be sure and decided it was best to drop it. Jack seemed hyped up now, irritated, and she sensed that her smartest strategy was to avoid pushing any buttons with him.

She opened the apartment door, with Jack right behind her. Smokey had obviously heard the key in the lock and was waiting in the foyer. He curled his body around Lake’s calves and then Jack’s.

“Hey, Smokes,” Jack said distractedly without bothering to pet the cat.

“Most of your stuff is still in Will’s closet,” Lake said. “Except your black suitcase-that’s in the back of the closet in our room.”

Our room. She couldn’t believe she’d called it that.

“What I need is in the suitcase,” Jack said. “I’ll just head back there, okay? It shouldn’t take more than a minute.”

His tone had changed slightly. He sounded friendlier, less confrontational, which made her more suspicious. As he strode down the hall toward the master bedroom, she wondered if she should follow him, check out exactly what he was doing. Was this whole “I need a few papers” thing actually a ruse to snoop, to try to spot something he could use against her? Maybe that’s why he’d suddenly sounded friendlier-to throw her off her guard. She felt her anger begin to rise.

As she started down the hall behind him, the phone rang. She wanted to keep tabs on Jack, but if she didn’t answer it, Jack would hear the message on the answering machine. She stepped quickly into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. Her hello seemed to echo through the quiet apartment.

“Don’t tell me that guy who was murdered is Dr. McSteamy from the clinic?”

It was Molly. At full throttle.

“Yes-it was him,” Lake said, lowering her voice.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Jack’s here. Picking up some papers. Or so he says.”

“What do you mean, ‘Or so he says’?”

“I’ll have to tell you later.”

“Okay, so back to McSteamy. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I was going to but it’s been crazy. Can we talk later? I need to get off.”

“Call me, okay? ’Bye.”

“Something the matter?” Jack said from behind her, nearly making her jump. With the phone still in her hand, Lake spun around to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, two folders under his arm, his head cocked in curiosity.

“As I told you-I’m busy today. Do you have what you need?”

“Yup. Thanks. And, by the way, I’m closing on my new apartment next week, so I’ll be getting the rest of my stuff out of here really soon.”