Molly stared at what she had found while she flushed hot, then cold, and the roaring in her ears was the sound of all the balls she’d been juggling for years that were now crashing at her feet.
Her fingers shook as she pulled out the strange pair of underwear from the narrow space between her husband’s nightstand and their king-sized mattress. She dropped the panties onto the bed. They were outrageously feminine, a dark purple with lace trim.
They were a size smaller than what she wore.
Her gaze listed around the shadowed, quiet room, a foundering ship in search of a safe harbor. Years ago she had decorated the master bedroom to reflect serenity, but at the moment it felt anything but serene. A storm had rolled in, and the sky was so dark outside it looked like twilight.
Rain lashed against the windows like a wild creature trying to break in. Water ran in rivulets down the glass pane, and thunder growled. Inside, the house felt too still, as if it held its breath, and the heavy, dense air was thick with an electrical charge.
Her attention snapped back to the purple panties. They were a shocking intrusion, the purple violent against the pale cream duvet.
What kind of woman trysted with a married man in his own bed, then forgot to put on her panties when she left? What kind of husband did that to his wife?
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Something tightly leashed inside her tore, and her emotions raged uncontrollably.
On the landing at the head of the stairs, the antique grandfather clock stopped ticking. The bedroom plunged into semidarkness with a sizzling electric pop that made her nearly leap out of her skin.
From his office downstairs, Austin shouted irritably, “Goddammit, Molly—a circuit blew again. The party’s in two hours, and I’m still in the middle of crunching the numbers I need to go over with the other partners tonight. Would you fix it?”
Go ahead, Molly. Fix it.
Go into the basement and reset the circuit breaker.
Then bake the puff-pastry hors d’oeuvres by 5:45 p.m. The chicken should marinate until 6:10 p.m., and then you need to put it immediately into a preheated oven. Check the wine cooler to make sure the white wine is chilled to fifty-two degrees, slice lemons and limes for cocktails, and don’t forget you need to ice the sponge cake with buttercream frosting and top it with the fresh fruit that you’ve washed and left to dry on paper towels.
And you need to shower, put on your makeup, and dress well so you can do your part and charm your guests tonight.
Would the owner of the purple panties be at the party?
She couldn’t feel her fingers. Carefully, she folded the panties and stuffed them into the pocket of her old cardigan. Then she went downstairs, picked up her purse, located her car keys, and walked out of the charming six-bedroom, four-and-a-half-bath Cape Cod house.
The gray sky spat needles of chilly rain as she climbed into her Escalade in the driveway. After starting the engine and cranking up the heat, she took the panties and laid them out on the passenger seat. Then she fastened her seat belt and pulled out.
Her shoulders felt crushed, and her face was streaming. She couldn’t get a deep enough breath into her cramped lungs.
She drove to the end of the street and then turned and drove back on the neighboring street, passing large well-tended lawns and equally large familiar houses. Zigzagging back and forth, going nowhere, her mind a blank.
Her cell phone rang. She ignored it. It rang several more times until she put it on vibrate. Then it buzzed like an angry hornet. She didn’t want to ever talk to him again. She felt like she could drive for weeks and weeks. Just watch the road as it came scrolling toward her. Why couldn’t she do that? When she thought of how trapped she felt, a wave of anguish rolled through her.
Every light on the dashboard of the Escalade lit up, and the engine sputtered. Suddenly calming, she listened as it gave one last cough before it died. Using the SUV’s momentum, she steered to a stop at the curb and put it in park opposite a large, landscaped retention pond at the edge of the neighborhood.
She told the absent woman who owned the panties, “Today’s Thursday. The cleaning service came yesterday morning. I got home from visiting my mother last night, and I only just got around to straightening