“…a crazy sociopath! How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“Look, I’m your brother, man. If you did this, you can tell me,” Nick says. “I won’t say a word to anyone, and we’ll figure out a way to make this all go away.”
Bobby exhales so loudly it’s almost like a train whistle. “No wonder Gina doesn’t believe me. My own brother thinks I did it.”
“I’m just saying you can trust me. Shit happens. I know you love Gina, but we all make mistakes. I won’t judge you.”
“Good to know, but I didn’t do it.”
“So where’d that email come from?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. For all I know, she planted it. It’s not like my computer is password-protected all the time, and she had access to my office.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Why would she make up an affair?”
They are both silent for a moment. Alice is barely breathing.
Finally, Nick speaks, “I have to ask. How come you haven’t signed off on the press release?”
Alice’s ears prick up at the remark. Nick hadn’t said anything about a press release. She feels a spike of irritation. Nick shouldn’t be keeping things from her. She can’t be an asset if she isn’t properly informed. Should she contact Jessie, to see if she knows about this? Alice chews on her bottom lip. Better to ask Nick first, she decides.
“I told you. The language wasn’t right. Doug said so.”
“I read it, Bobby. It was fine. Standard, really. Goddard agrees,” Nick says. “If we don’t respond to these allegations, people are going to believe her.”
Good, Alice thinks. Eva should be believed.
She wants Nick to say more, to suggest that he step in as CEO. She’d heard him on the phone with Charles yesterday, discussing the possibility. Come to think of it, Nick had mentioned hiring Jessie to conduct a full investigation on Alma Boots, which Alice thought had been an incredibly dumb move. Now is not the time to keep Charles abreast of the nitty-gritty details—that’s no longer Charles’s concern. Now is the time to get Bobby to resign. It’s the only way to make this go away. Twitter is right: #ResignRobert is the only appropriate response. Besides, what if Charles were to accidentally tell Bobby about the full scope of the report?
Another stretch of silence. “I just want today to end.”
“Think Gina will take you back tomorrow?” Nick’s voice is lower, softer.
Bobby is silent. Alice doesn’t know if he made a gesture or if he simply chose not to respond.
“Come on, it’s late. We should both get some sleep,” Nick says.
Alice turns to make the bed. She’s pretty sure her corners won’t be as neat as Gina’s, but he’ll be comfortable. She has selected Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count so high the number of zeros makes her dizzy, and the softest, most luxurious pillows. She sweeps her gaze across the guest room. When they moved to Alma, Alice had decorated it in a minimalist style—floating bed with a long, white headboard, a pair of low, lacquered nightstands, exposed light-bulb fixtures. Had she assumed she’d have friends over? Perhaps she’d momentarily forgotten that she barely had any friends left, and the ones she did have had no interest in coming to Alma. Alice didn’t blame them then, and doesn’t blame them now—though she does feel lonely.
“Alice, our guest is here.” Nick appears at the door with Bobby, who is holding a tan leather carryall. It’s surprisingly stylish for Bobby’s standards—Alice doesn’t recognize the designer, but she makes a mental note to ask him about it later. Perhaps Alma Boots could expand their leather-goods line. Why shouldn’t they sell luggage?
“Thank you for having me,” Bobby says, smiling sadly.
Later, she’ll wonder what possessed her to walk over and give Bobby a hug. Alice is angry at Bobby—he took advantage of an employee. And she isn’t a hugger—Nick likes to joke that she only touches people for sexual or medical reasons. But in that moment, she is grateful to Bobby. Thanks to him, she’ll be able to leave town.
“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like,” Alice says.
Bobby blushes. “Thank you.” He seems surprised by her kindness. Obviously, he’s not as good of a chess player as Nick.
Alice still finds it disconcerting how exactly alike Bobby and Nick are. When they moved to Alma, Nick had longish hair and a slight tan that helped set them apart. But now, as they stand side by side, Alice notes that it would be impossible to distinguish between them if Bobby didn’t have his glasses hanging from his shirt pocket.
“Would you like me to bring up some chamomile tea?” she asks.
“Thank you, but Nick’s been kind enough to booze me up.”
“It’s the least he can do.” Alice winks at Nick. “We’ll let you rest now.”
“Thank you,” Bobby says again. Then he tilts his head. “Your hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it down before.”
“I only take it down to go to bed.” Alice instinctively places her hand on her jawline.
“You should wear it like that more often. You look very nice.”
“All right, you,” Nick says, slapping a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Stop hitting on my wife.” Nick takes Alice by the hand and they make their way back to their bedroom.
It was a joke, of course, but Alice still feels a tingle in her spine, as if she is a teenager and a boy has just noticed her for the first time. But Bobby was only being kind. There’s no way Alice looks attractive with her hair down.
Nineteen
Tish
Friday, September 20th
Tish is alone in her favorite room in the house: the library.
Three years ago, shortly after Nick moved back to Alma, Tish had it remodeled. Her intention hadn’t been to modernize the space—Tish does not favor modern decor—but, rather, to immortalize it. Its bones had been respected: the coffered ceilings and ornate railings on the mezzanine level had been left untouched, and the dramatic skylight had been preserved. Tish’s modifications had been
