Джеймс Паттерсон - The House Next Door

Other than a Xanax, no.

Darcy and her husband, Jake, are the first to arrive. She shows up carrying a hand-stenciled basket filled with flowers from her garden.

“So where’s the guest of honor?” she asks.

“He’ll be here,” I say.

Darcy smiles and says, “I’m sure he will.”

Coach Mike arrives next, carrying a case of Coors. Mike has been divorced for years. Should I have asked him if he wanted to bring a plus-one? Well, too late now.

Mike shakes hands with Jake and Darcy. He hasn’t seen them since their son, Alex, graduated a few years ago.

“He likes Stanford?” Mike asks.

“Loves it,” says Darcy.

Then I hear the gate open again. I take a deep breath.

Vinny runs onto the deck first. “Where’s Ben?” he asks. I direct him down to the basement, where Ben and his video games are.

Then Vince appears. He looks like he just got out of the shower. His hair is wet and slicked back. He’s wearing the typical suburban dad uniform: a yellow J. Crew tee, jeans, and Docksides. He’s carrying a shopping bag.

“Everybody—this is Vince,” I say. “Vince, this is Darcy and Jake, your neighbors on the other side. Mike: meet the man behind all those great snacks. And that’s Ned over there—the guy bent over the grill.” Ned waves.

“You’re the lady who left those delicious brownies,” Vince says to Darcy. “So sorry. I meant to send you a thank-you note but…”

“No worries,” she says, with a ladylike brush of her hand. “I’m sure you’ve had enough to do. How are you liking it here in our neck of the woods?”

They begin a conversation about real estate, shopping, traffic, kids, sports, Vinny, and schools. Ned is busy at the grill, and everybody seems nice and civil to everybody else. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m about to excuse myself to go into the kitchen when Vince pulls something out of the shopping bag he’s holding.

“Almost forgot,” he says. He hands me two bottles of Médoc. “I brought you some of that wine you like.”

My eyes dart over to Ned, hunched over the grill. Has he heard this? For a moment I imagine him outraged, incensed, seething with jealousy.

But no. Ned is happily fanning the barbecue fire, stirring the charcoal, and not paying attention to any of us.

Okay, I dodged one bullet. I excuse myself and go into the kitchen again to check on the pies. I’m there just a moment when I sense someone behind me. I turn around. It’s Vince.

“I need a corkscrew,” he says, waving one of the bottles. I turn away, furious at myself for blushing at the word “screw.” I point to the drawer where the silverware is kept. “Ned seems like a great guy,” he says. Why does he say that? All Ned did was wave.

“Yes, he is,” I say. I don’t know what else to add. Having him here in my kitchen is making me nervous. Fortunately, he seems to sense this. He heads back out, corkscrew in hand.

As I go outside with a second platter of hors d’oeuvres—sliced salami wrapped around cream cheese and chives, toasted mushroom puffs, a wedge of brie—I see the conversation has gotten around to what people do for a living. Darcy is talking about her artwork, her stenciling, her oil painting. Ned shares the pressures of being responsible for other people’s money. Vince nods politely to all of them. Then Jake mentions that he’s a cardiologist.

Suddenly, Vince leans forward in his chair, intrigued.

“I’ve never been to a cardiologist,” he says. “And I suppose I should. My dad died of a heart attack when he was barely sixty.”

“How long ago was that?” Jake asks.

“Oh—thirty years, give or take.”

“Was that his first heart attack?” Jake asks.

“No. He suffered from angina. What I remember most is how he carried those little nitroglycerin tablets around with him and put one under his tongue any time he felt a tingle.”

“They don’t use them much anymore,” Jake says.

“Do you think I should be—what? Checked? Tested?”

“That’s always wise, with your family history. Give my office a call, first thing tomorrow. Tell my secretary I said to fit you in.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that,” Vince says. His hair has dried in the sun at this point, and he looks…cute. That curl has fallen into his face as it usually does, and he keeps brushing it back with his fingers.

Like a nervous hummingbird, I dart back into the kitchen. As I’m putting some bowls in the sink, Darcy appears.

“So?” I ask. “What do you think?”

“Delicious,” she says. I turn around and see she has taken a fork and dipped it into the potato salad.

“I meant, what do you think of Vince .”

“I know you did,” she says. Suddenly, she turns serious.

“Okay. He’s charming. I’ll give you that,” she says. “But I still don’t like it.”

“Because…?”

“Because if I was lying in a hospital somewhere, I’d like to know my husband was missing me, or thinking of me, or feeling guilty that he’s at a party without me.”

Darcy frowns.

“And not charming the pants off his new neighbor.”

I desperately need to change the subject.

“Jake seems quiet,” I say. “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“With us—sure,” she says. “But he’s preoccupied. He’s in the middle of a big malpractice suit.”

“Oh, my God,” I say.

“Some patient is suing. Claims Jake made a mistake in surgery, and now he can’t work. Jake says it’s all bullshit. But until it’s resolved, it’s hanging over his head and he’s a nervous wreck. Anyway, it’s all kind of hush-hush. Frankly, I kind of wish he would tell someone about it, just to get it off his chest. He said he was gonna ask the guys’ advice today.”

I look out the kitchen window. Jake is talking. Vince and Mike listen, deep in thought.

“Looks like he’s doing that now,” I say.

Just then we hear Ned yell, “Dinner is served.”

Chapter 18

We’re ready to eat. We all take our seats around the gray wood picnic table.

“To the end of summer,” Ned says, holding up his glass. There’s a lot of clinking, and I am beginning to relax inside. No cause for alarm after all.

As we finish eating, Joey appears on the deck. He says hi to Darcy, Jake, and Mike. I introduce him to Vince.

“Nice to meet you, son,” Vince says, shaking his hand. “You’re what now: a junior? How old are you?”

“Seventeen next week,” Joey says.

“And he’ll be going for his driver’s license,” Ned adds.

“Ah. The classic rite of passage,” Vince says. “I remember when I first got mine. I was fifteen. Of course, the rules in Iowa were very different then.”

Iowa?

He sees the surprised look on my face. “My grandparents owned a farm there,” he says. “In those days, you could get a junior license at fifteen if you lived more than a mile from school.”

“Hard to believe you’re getting your license,” Darcy says to Joey. “First time I met you, your mom was carrying you around in a Snugli.”

“I bet you’re pretty good with computers,” Vince says. “Unlike us old folks.”

“You bet,” I say. “We think of him as our live-in IT guy.”

“Y’know, Joey, if you’ve got the time, I could use some help setting up a new piece of software I just got. You familiar with Excel? Spreadsheets?”

“Sure,” Joey says, circling around the table and filling his plate.

Why does this please me? Why does it make me nervous?

“That would be great. The company wants me to switch over from my old bookkeeping method, and I don’t think I can master it on my own. I’d pay you, of course,” he adds. “So you can start saving up for your own car.”