Page 91 of The Housekeeper

Chapter Thirty-seven

“You really didn’thave anything better to wear?” Tracy asked me, literally turning up her nose at the oversize white T-shirt and wrinkly black shorts I had on.

It was early March and we were in the locker room of the boutique gym she’d joined at the start of the year, waiting to begin our joint session with Jeremy, her new personal trainer, who she claimed was “the best trainer ever.” I’d been so surprised when she called that morning and invited me to accompany her, even offering to drive over and pick me up, that I’d said yes without fully thinking it through. The sad truth was that I hadn’t exercised in years so, aside from being out of shape, I was somewhat limited in my choice of wardrobe.

“They sell workout stuff here, you know,” she said. “You could buy something more fashionable and…you know…flattering.”

I glanced at the sleek, black one-piece jumpsuit she was wearing, thinking that she looked like a picture in a magazine. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and her makeup had been expertly applied. “I thought we were here to work up a sweat.”

“We are,” she said. “But we don’t have to look like shit doing it. Not that you look like shit,” she added quickly.

“I look like shit,” I acknowledged.

“No. You just look a little tired, that’s all. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just…busy.”

“You do too much. You work too hard. Frankly, I was a little surprised you found the time to do this.”

Frankly, so was I. But the kids were in school, I didn’t have any appointments booked, and my clothes were starting to feel a little tight. So, when Tracy surprised me with the invitation to join her at the gym, I agreed without hesitation.

“There’s time before our session, if you want to try something on,” she said, checking her watch.

It was our mother’s Cartier, the one with the red alligator strap.

“When did that happen?” I asked, trying not to look too shocked as I nodded with my chin toward it.

“What? Oh, this. Yeah. I don’t know. Last month, maybe. Elyse convinced Dad I should have it. You should be nicer to them, Jodi,” she advised. “That way you’ll get stuff, too.”

“I’m always nice,” I said. “Besides, I have my fake pearls. What more could I want?”

She laughed. “Next time they give me anything, I’ll give it to you. I promise,” she said.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“When was the last time you spoke to them anyway?” she asked.

I was surprised. I was the one usually asking that question. “It’s been a few weeks,” I admitted. My initial desire to keep open those lines of communication had taken a definite hit since being tossed unceremoniously out into the cold. There were only so many times you could bang your head against a brick wall without doing yourself serious harm. I’d decided that a break was necessary for my well-being. “You?”

“I called them a few times last week and left messages, but they didn’t get back to me. There’s this dress I saw at Holt’s butit’s molto expensive, and I thought I better clear it with Dad first, seeing as I’ve already exceeded my clothing allowance for this month.”

“You have a clothing allowance?” I asked.

“You don’t?” she asked in return. “Anyway,” she continued before I could answer, “I was thinking of stopping by the house after our session, and I was really hoping you’d come with me.”

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea.”

“Please. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Why not? It looks as if you’ve been going over there on your own a lot lately.” Once again, I nodded toward the Cartier watch on her wrist.

“Yeah,” she acknowledged. “But they’re kind of starting to freak me out.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way they look at each other, like they’re about to eat each other up. Ew! You don’t think they actually do that, do you?”

“Do what?”