CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
1983
“We have an agreement,” Mariska said to Laura. “That’s all you need to know.”
Laura stood in astonishment, gaping at her friend. They were in the cavelike vault of the bakery freezer. Laura had shown up at three forty-five in the morning as usual to open. She normally had an hour before anyone else arrived, but this morning Mariska had startled her by showing up. Instead of getting to work, however, she had brought Laura to the walk-in freezer. There, Mariska had shown her a small box lined with black velvet. Peering at the contents, Laura was pretty sure she was hallucinating. Mariska assured her that these were one-carat round diamonds, investment grade, which meant they were colorless and internally flawless. They had been given to her, she explained, by Mr. and Mrs. Lightsey, of Lightsey Gold & Gem in New York City. They had an “agreement.”
“I don’t understand,” Laura said. “Who are they? And why did they give you the diamonds?”
“I told you…” Mariska closed the box and pressed it to her chest.
“Right, the agreement,” Laura said. “What I meant was, why? Who are these people?”
Mariska slipped the box into a zippered belt around her waist. “I need to move these. I thought keeping them in here would be safe, but after yesterday’s power outage, I was getting nervous.”
“Nervous about what?”
“I kept feeling like someone was watching me.”
“Who?”
“Just…someone. I thought of a better hiding place. I need to tell someone, though, in case, well, you know.”
“In case what?”
“Something happens to me. It won’t, I swear. It’s just a precaution. Anyway, you’re the only one I can trust.”
Laura was unnerved by the ominous tone. “If you trust me, then you’ll tell me the whole story.”
They went into the bakery, where everything was gleaming, waiting to start another day. Laura eyed her friend. Mariska was more beautiful than ever, her constant travels having imbued her with a special sense of style, as if she had stepped from the pages of a Paris fashion spread. She wore a silk scarf and carried a soft leather bag with casual ease, and even at this hour, she seemed possessed of a peculiar restless energy. She adored traveling the world, and found life in sleepy Avalon, New York, almost unbearable. Although she adored her daughter—everybody adored Jenny—she couldn’t seem to settle down. And now this, thought Laura. Just when she thought Mariska couldn’t have any more secrets, there was this.
As Laura busied herself with a honey-wheat mixture, Mariska finally began to talk. “Mr. and Mrs. Lightsey are the parents of Pamela Lightsey, the girl Philip Bellamy married,” she said.
Now Laura remembered. The Lightseys were summer people, friends of the Bellamys.
“They were desperate for Philip to marry Pamela, and they knew he wouldn’t do it so long as I was around,” Mariska continued. “I knew the moment I told Philip I was pregnant, it would be over for him and Pamela. The thing is, the Lightseys knew that, too. They said if I’d break up with Philip—and make him believe it—they’d make it worth my while. They’re in the diamond trade, so…” She patted the belt containing the diamonds.
That night, at Mariska’s insistence, Laura and Mariska went out, stopping at Scooter’s, a popular hang-out on the river road. The two women sat at a bar-height table sipping drinks and catching the eye of several guys. Well, Mariska did, anyway. Next to her, Laura felt as plain as white bread.
Some local guys parked themselves at the next table—Terry Davis, who worked up at Camp Kioga year round, Jimmy Romano, a teacher at the high school, and Matthew Alger, who worked for the city. When it came to flirting, Mariska was an expert, but Laura was content to simply sit back and watch. It was an art, the process of lighting up when a guy looked at you, holding his attention with your eyes and your body language. Although it required intense concentration, it had to appear completely natural and spontaneous.
Before long, Mariska was whispering and giggling with Matthew, who looked as though he was about to eat her up. Laura excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. Within a few minutes, Mariska joined her. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
Laura could see that she was drunk. “I keep thinking about the things you told me today…what you did…”
“It had to be done, okay? The bakery wasn’t doing so hot that summer, in case you forgot.”
“I remember.”
“It was a way to save it.”
“Philip would have helped you,” Laura said. “If you’d told him about the baby and married him, the Bellamys would have stepped in.”
Mariska stared at her. “And how would that make me look? Like an idiot who got pregnant and married a guy in order to use his money. You know me, Laura. I would never do that.”
Ah, yes, her pride. “So it’s better to be a single mother and take a bribe than to marry the man you love?”
“I was eighteen years old. I had no idea about love and marriage. Sometimes I think I still don’t. But I’ve always understood the value of money.”
A flushing sound came from one of the stalls. Laura’s blood chilled. Good Lord, someone had heard their conversation. A dark-haired woman came out and washed her hands at a sink. One of the Romanos, Laura observed. Angela, maybe, she couldn’t keep them all straight.
When she left, Laura looked wildly at Mariska. “Do you think she knows what we were talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. I took care of everything today. The only one who saw was Jenny, and she’s too little to know what’s going on.”
“Isn’t what you did illegal?”
“Look, I had something the Lightseys wanted,” she said in exasperation. “And you didn’t see me buying new cars and clothes, stuff like that. I didn’t want to arouse anybody’s
