Looking back, Alice realizes that what Camilla did to her was nothing short of emotional abuse. She was a cruel, vicious woman—probably still is. It would explain the way she treated her only child: Alice’s stepbrother, Lucas, had been twelve years old when they met, and Camilla had shipped him off to a boarding school in Vermont days after her wedding, only a few months after Lucas’s dad passed away. Alice barely saw Lucas after that—he came home for Christmas once, maybe twice; Lucas obviously had picked up on the fact that his mom didn’t want him around. She took no pleasure in being a mother. Unfortunately for Alice, she seemed to relish the role of wicked stepmother.
Alice hasn’t spoken to Camilla since her father died, two months after the incident with Professor Keyes, and two weeks after she met Nick. When she found out that her father had left her nothing, not even her mother’s jewelry, Alice knew it had been Camilla’s doing. When Alice asked to bury him in Chicago next to her mother—a wish her dad had continuously expressed throughout his life—Camilla refused, saying that Alice had broken his heart.
“You tried to ruin his friend,” Camilla had spat, accusingly. It didn’t matter that his so-called friend had tried to force himself on her. No one believed her, not even her father. Alice had broken down in tears. An awful, humiliating display, one that she is sure brought Camilla a great deal of satisfaction. She accused Camilla of enabling a sexual assaulter. Camilla had scoffed, “Alice, why would a respectable man like Thomas Keyes need to attack a woman, especially a plain woman like you? Let us be honest: you would not be his first choice.” It had destroyed Alice.
Camilla’s ill-fated influence on her life is one of the reasons why Alice will never move out of Alma without Nick. Even if she does manage to find a good job, she can’t leave her husband. What if Allegra chooses to live with him someday, and what if, by then, Nick has remarried a woman like Camilla? Alice can’t bear the thought of Allegra having a stepparent.
She hears Nick’s footsteps coming up the stairs. Seconds later, he walks into their bedroom and closes the door behind him, leaning his back against it. She is about to ask who had rung their doorbell at ten o’clock at night, but stops herself when she sees how flushed he looks.
“Bobby’s here,” Nick says, breathless. “Gina kicked him out.”
She catches a glimpse of an expression on her husband’s face, so fleeting it’s almost as if she’s imagined it. Almost. Alice studies his eyes. She knows this look. Nick is controlling himself. He is trying his best to appear shocked, concerned. But, really, he’s pleased. Hopeful.
“What can I do?” Alice asks, getting up from the dresser.
“I said he could stay here.” Nick gnaws on the insides of his mouth and runs his hands on the brass doorknob in a circular motion. He is playing chess with their lives, planning his next move.
“I’ll set up the guest room.”
“That would be great. I’ll head back down to see if he wants to talk.” Nick pauses, looks up, and then turns to Alice. There it is again: the spark of joy. “I think it’s fair to say this thing is a big deal now, that their marriage is in trouble.”
People follow the wife’s lead, Alice remembers.
“Yes,” Alice says. She allows herself a small smile. She wants to tell him not to feel guilty about being happy. Bobby has done a horrible thing—he deserves to be punished. Besides, it’s not like Nick is happy because Bobby is hurting. Nick is simply being smart, strategic. They need to get out of this town. This is their ticket out.
Great minds do think alike. Chemistry isn’t the only thing they have in common.
Alice makes her way to the guest room. She is rummaging through the closet, trying to find their softest comforter, when she feels a foreign object under her foot. It’s one of Allegra’s American Girl dolls. Four of them, actually. All sitting on the closet floor as if in a huddle. Alice remembers the disapproving look Gina had given her when she saw Allegra’s assortment of dolls—her daughter has over thirty American Girls and counting. Gina can be so judgmental in her silence.
Alice moves the dolls to a top shelf, admiring their outfits. A fitted yellow and blue sundress that could rival her DVF wrap dresses. Slim-fitting navy-blue pants, a striped navy blue and white shirt and a gorgeous red tweed jacket that could’ve easily been Chanel—and during Karl Lagerfeld’s time, too. Two ball gowns: one asymmetrical and daring and the other classical and elegant. The fabrics are clearly inexpensive, but the stitching is perfect. No wonder these dolls cost so much. They’re basically donned in haute couture.
Alice feels perfectly qualified to make this assessment. She can’t sew to save her life, but she has an eye for talent and good taste. This is why the LVMH position would’ve been a perfect fit, a way for Alice to put both her intelligence and her fashion sense to good use. If only Professor Keyes had never come into her life, if only she hadn’t gotten pregnant before establishing a career for herself.
Maybe it’s the rush of adrenaline, but the guest room feels a bit stuffy. She tries to remember the last time someone slept over, but her mind is muddled. She probably shouldn’t have taken two Valiums.
She hears their voices as soon as she twists the window open. It hadn’t occurred to her that the guest room overlooks the patio. Nick and Bobby are sitting outside, in the rocking chairs. Nick has turned the firepit on. Alice takes a step back, afraid they’ll be able to hear the shutters swinging on hinges. She makes out
