“Can I get you anything? A glass of water?” Holly asked reflexively.
“No, thank you,” Jessica said, despite barely being able to swallow.
Holly seemed to falter. “Well then.”
“I need you to know,” Jessica began, not wanting to forget the words she’d rehearsed on the plane and during the drive out to Barrington Hills, “that I am truly sorry to add any additional pain to what I know is an already difficult situation.”
Holly gave a small nod.
“I haven’t stood in the way of Jon going back and forth to be with your family, and I promise I never will.”
“Back and forth,” Holly repeated, shifting her weight on the oriental rug. “When, exactly, did you and Jack get together?”
“There was no overlap. I would never do that,” Jessica reiterated. “We met in April, almost exactly a year and a half ago. When he gave a speech at a Mayo Clinic symposium.”
“The week we got Mini-Me,” Holly said under her breath.
“Mini—?”
“The kids’ favorite horse.”
“I understand you have quite a few,” Jessica said, desperate to lighten the mood.
Holly stood up straighter and pushed her hair back from her face, speaking with dignity even as her voice cracked. “I suppose Jack has told you a lot about me. Us.”
Jessica didn’t answer, not ready to navigate that minefield.
“Why did you ask me about the Revelate when you called?” Holly asked.
“Jon always said it was his big idea, so when I heard that wasn’t necessarily the case, I wanted to know—”
“Whether he was telling the truth.”
Jessica nodded, unable to look away from Holly’s pale-blue eyes.
“Would you take my word over his?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed.
“But he doesn’t know we’re talking.”
“He wants me to stay away from you.”
“And yet here you are.”
Telling Holly she doubted Jon felt like the ultimate betrayal. And if Jon had been telling the truth about Holly’s ability to deceive and manipulate, then she was playing into the hands of her worst enemy. But something told her to go on.
“I guess I want to hear your side of the story.”
Holly’s response was so unexpected that Jessica wondered whether she’d made a monumental miscalculation. “I presume you’ve never seen the house before.”
“No, of course not,” Jessica said.
“Then why don’t I show you around?” Holly’s face was inscrutable.
Jessica had known this encounter would be awkward, fraught, and possibly even dangerous. She’d pictured any number of different scenarios—including shoves and slaps—but never one that included a house tour.
Maybe Holly really was Annie Wilkes brought to life, intent on pushing Jessica down the basement stairs so she could lock her down there forever.
The voice in Jessica’s head shouted, Run!—but was it hers or Jon’s?
Unsure of whom to trust, she followed Holly into a spacious, elegant living room, her senses so overloaded she barely registered more than a blur of designer furniture and horse-themed art. She had googled the address more than once, hoping for a glimpse of something not shown in the framed family photos still prominently displayed in Jon’s office, but to be inside felt like an out-of-body experience.
“This is my favorite part of the house. It’s full of light, and it’s the only place where you can see the stables, the guesthouse, and the pond,” Holly said, gazing through one of the three sets of french doors that opened onto a patio and the seemingly endless grounds.
“Beautiful,” Jessica managed.
“I would normally show you the horses and the gardens, but everything is starting to thaw, and it’s just too muddy. I wouldn’t want you to ruin those slacks.”
Jessica was glad she wouldn’t have to pretend to admire Holly’s horses while watching out for open root cellar doors or remote locked sheds that happened to be part of the outdoor tour.
“The original structure and the barn were built in 1922 by a steel magnate, as a wedding gift for one of his children,” said Holly, proceeding to a library full of books and exquisite cabinetry. “Many of the original architectural features are still intact.”
Her spiel was well practiced, and as they passed through a dining room with elaborate wainscoting and crown molding, she pointed out the chandelier, which was “original, and supposedly a gift from William Wrigley himself.” In the thoroughly renovated kitchen, she explained, “The kitchen, of course, had already been redone several times by the time we got here, so we didn’t feel we were tampering by going all new. Jack always preferred clean lines and contemporary, so this place was a big change from our town house in Lincoln Park.”
Jessica nodded and tried to hide her skyrocketing anxiety. She passed the basement stairs without incident as they walked into the family room, “an addition designed by the grandson of the original architect,” still with no idea why this encounter had become a tour.
Holly led them up to the second floor via a set of back stairs she said was “originally built for servants and unfortunately convenient for stealthy teenage exits.” As they made their way down a wide hallway, Holly opened the doors to Ava’s “aerie,” Paige’s “ocean,” and Logan’s “disaster area.”
“What I would have given for a fireplace and a window seat in my bedroom,” Jessica said as she peered into Paige’s room, which was painted and upholstered in calming blues and greens. “All three kids’ rooms are so peaceful.”
“Much as we all love this house, the stark realities of the outside world always have a way of intruding.”
The pointed comment was the opening she’d been waiting for.
“I hope you don’t think I have any intention of trying to compromise your right to this house, or the lifestyle you’ve enjoyed all these years,” Jessica said.
Holly smiled thinly. “I’m not particularly concerned about your intentions, to be honest.”
“Then why the house tour?”
“We both have questions. I think this is the best way to answer at least one of them.”
Holly headed toward a set of double doors, reached for the matching pewter handles, and pulled them open. “This house features more than a master suite: a
