The members of the press roared. If Phoebe hadn't won them over, she had at least proved that she wasn't quite as dumb as they thought.
The condominium Bert had kept for his mistresses was one of twenty luxury units set into a wooded area on the fringes of Naperville, which was located on the western edge of DuPage County. The attractive two-story beige brick unit was topped by a wood-shingled mansard roof. A pair of graceful Palladian windows sat on each side of an impressive set of double front doors inset with long ovals of leaded glass. Brass coach lamps glimmered in the six o'clock sun as Phoebe parked the car in the garage and walked into the house.
The interior was pleasantly decorated in soft shades of aqua, pearl gray, and white, giving the rooms a light, tropical feel. The kitchen opened out onto a sun room for informal eating, and a cathedral ceiling made the small living room seem spacious.
"Molly? Peg?" Phoebe crouched down to pet Pooh, who was delirious with joy at her return. When there was no answer, she and the poodle went upstairs.
Her aqua and white bedroom held bleached oak furniture and a wide expanse of windows. She had been uncomfortable sleeping in the king-sized bed that dominated the room and had replaced it with a queen from the guest room at the estate. After tossing her linen jacket down on the puffy spread, she walked into the closet, where she changed into a pair of jeans and a Stars' T-shirt.
Neither Molly nor Peg had returned by the time Phoebe carried the whole wheat roll and pasta salad she found in the refrigerator out to the sun room. She padded across the pearl gray tiles in her sweat socks and sat on one of the white filigreed iron chairs that rested in front of a matching glass-topped table. A comfortable love seat upholstered in aqua and white peonies provided a cozy seating area at the end of the room.
She rubbed her toes along Pooh's back as she toyed with her salad. For once in her life she wasn't having any difficulty keeping off the extra five pounds that wanted to settle on her hips. Maybe because the blues were getting a firmer grip on her every day. She missed Viktor and her friends. She missed the gallery openings. She wanted a flat chest and a different childhood. She wanted a nice husband and a baby. She wanted Dan Calebow. Not the real man who had verbally attacked her that morning, but the funny, tender man she had imagined him to be the night they had made love.
Her uncharacteristic plunge into self-pity was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Pooh yipped and rushed out to investigate. Phoebe heard the rustle of packages, a soft greeting to Pooh, and then the sound of footsteps going upstairs. Pushing aside her salad, she made her way to the foyer in time to look through the sidelights and see Peg Kowalski's white Toyota pulling out of the drive.
She went upstairs and knocked on Molly's door. When there was no answer, she pushed it open anyway.
The bed was littered with sacks from the teenagers' dream stores: The Gap, Benetton, The Limited. Pooh, lying in the middle of the rubble, was watching as Molly pulled an assortment of clothes from the sacks.
Molly looked up at her, and for a few seconds, Phoebe thought she saw guilt reflected in her sister's small features. Then the old sullenness came back.
"Mrs. Kowalski took me shopping for school clothes. She has a teenage granddaughter, so she knew all the best stores."
Phoebe knew the best stores, too, but whenever she had suggested they shop, Molly had refused. "I can see that." Swallowing her disappointment, she took a seat on the side of the bed.
Molly reached out to stroke Pooh. Phoebe had realized several weeks ago that Dan had been right about her sister's affection for the dog, but she hadn't commented on it. "Let me see what you bought."
For a while Molly behaved like a normal teenager. As she whipped out a denim jacket, ribbed sweaters, stone-washed jeans, and T-shirts, her eyes glowed with excitement. Phoebe couldn't fault Peg's taste. She'd helped Molly put together a perfect teenage girl's wardrobe.
"Have you thought about getting your ears pierced?"
"Could I?"
"I don't know why not. Think about it."
"I want to," Molly replied without hesitation.
"All right, then. We'll go on Friday." She refolded a pair of jeans and spoke carefully. "You haven't said much about school. How's it going?"
Each time Phoebe had asked the question in the past two weeks, Molly had refused to respond with anything more than monosyllables. Now her expression grew stony.
"How do you think? I hate it. Even the advanced classes are easy."
"Your classes were easy at Crayton, too."
"Public school is full of cretins."
"When you registered, your counselor mentioned that the English department uses student tutors in the writing lab. Why don't you volunteer?"
"Why should I?"
"Sometimes it feels good to help other people." When Molly failed to respond, Phoebe continued her cautious probing. "At least you get to go to school with boys."
Molly became very busy picking at the tag on a pair of jeans. Phoebe tried again. "What's it like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Going to school with boys."
"They're big show-offs. And they're disgusting in the lunchroom."
"What about the boys in the advanced classes? Are they show-offs, too?"
"Some of them, I suppose. But a lot of them are nerds."
Phoebe suppressed a smile. "I've always liked nerds. There's nothing sexier in a man than intelligence. Of course, there is something to be said for dumb and cute."
Molly giggled, and for a few moments the barriers between them dissolved. "The boy who has a locker next to mine has long hair. He's really loud and obnoxious, always making guitar noises, but he's kind of cute, too."
"Is he?"
"He's in my advanced English class, but he's having trouble keeping up."
"Maybe you could offer to help him out."
"He doesn't even know who I am." Molly shoved a sack out of the way, her face clouding. "Nobody likes me. All the girls are bitches. If you're not a Pom Pom and you don't have the right clothes, they won't even talk to you."
Now Phoebe understood what had motivated the shopping spree. "I'm sure all the girls aren't that way. You just have to find the right group. It'll take time."
"I don't care about them! You told me that I only had to stay a semester, and then I'm leaving."
Defeated, Phoebe rose from the side of the bed. "Enjoy your new clothes. I wish we could have gone shopping together. I would have liked that."
Maybe she imagined it, but she thought she saw a flash of uncertainty cross her sister's face.
Just before bedtime that night, Phoebe clipped Pooh's fuchsia leash to her collar and led her outside for a walk. After the danger of Manhattan's streets, she loved this quiet residential area where she had the freedom to walk at night without worrying about becoming a statistic.
The town houses butted up against an area of wooded parkland. A paved bicycle path lit by an occasional streetlamp ran along the fringe. She loved the dense quiet, the loamy smell of the woods, and the crispness in the night air that announced the end of summer.
Pooh trotted ahead, sometimes stopping to poke her nose at a pile of acorns or beneath a clump of dry leaves, occasionally squatting to leave her mark on a particularly blissful spot. Phoebe's sneakers squeaked on the sidewalk, and the fleecy sweatshirt she wore was warm and cozy. For a few moments she let everything unpleasant slip away and enjoyed the night quiet.
Her sense of well-being was broken by the sound of a car turning into her court. She watched it slow down in front of her condo, then begin to pull into her driveway only to come to a stop as the headlights caught her. The driver immediately backed the car and drove toward her. Even before the vehicle stopped at the curb, she saw that it was a red Ferrari.
She tensed as Dan unfolded from the car and came toward her. He was wearing his glasses, and he'd thrown a Stars' windbreaker over a plum-colored shirt and jeans. Pooh began barking and straining at the end of her leash to get to him.