Elin Hilderbrand - Winter Stroll

Norah’s laugh explodes like a stick of dynamite. Jennifer jumps. “Oxy codone? ” Norah says. “Have you got yourself a pill problem?”

Jennifer considers pivoting on her heels and going back inside, but she needs to confess to someone . Why not Norah, who hates her anyway? “I do,” she says.

Norah’s expression softens. “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jennifer shrugs. “Do you know where I can get any?”

Norah nods. “Sure.”

Jennifer jumps again. “You do?”

“Sure,” Norah says. “But it won’t be cheap. Thirty dollars a pill.”

Thirty dollars a pill? Norah is scamming her.

“I can pay ten dollars a pill,” Jennifer says.

“Twenty,” Norah says.

“Fifteen,” Jennifer says. She would pay twenty, she needs them so badly. She wonders if Norah is bluffing, or if she can actually deliver. The latter is too exciting to believe.

“How many do you want?” Norah asks.

“How many can you get?” Jennifer asks.

“Thirty?” Norah says.

Thirty pills. If Jennifer is careful, that might be enough to last her until Patrick gets out.

“Perfect,” Jennifer says. “I’ll give you four hundred and fifty dollars.”

“I can swing by the inn with them tomorrow,” Norah says.

“Not the inn, Norah, come on.”

Norah stomps out her cigarette on the sidewalk with the heel of her beat-up Frye boot. Jennifer has the urge to pick up the butt and throw it away properly. She has the urge to tell Norah that those boots need to be replaced and Norah should take the profit from the pill sale right to Neiman Marcus.

No wonder Norah hates her. Stuck-up. Snobby pop-tart .

“Where do you want me to meet you, then?” Norah asks.

“How about in the Stop & Shop parking lot at ten?” Jennifer says.

“Ten?” Norah says. “That’s early for me. How about eleven?”

Eleven is the time of Genevieve’s baptism, but Jennifer isn’t about to tell Norah Vale this. “I can’t do eleven,” Jennifer says. “How about ten thirty?”

“Ten thirty in the Stop & Shop parking lot,” Norah says. “I’ll see you there.”

Jennifer nods. On the one hand, she can’t believe she is going to do a drug deal with Norah Vale in the Stop & Shop parking lot; on the other hand, her biggest fear is Norah not showing up with the pills.

She’s an addict.

“Do you want my cell phone number?” Jennifer asks. “In case there’s a problem?”

“There won’t be a problem,” Norah says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Margaret tells Drake that she can’t stay at the party.

“I don’t want to see Kelley and Mitzi again tonight if I don’t have to,” Margaret says. “Kelley will know something is up. He’ll see it on my face.”

Drake fetches Margaret’s coat and they walk back to the inn. Once there, they head straight up to room 10.

She immediately logs on to her laptop. “Nothing,” she says. “There’s nothing.” She dials into her office voicemail and listens to the message herself. She emits a huff of frustration when she hangs up. “It’s like a taunt,” she says. “He calls to tell me there’s news but he doesn’t tell me what it is. This is a recurring bad dream particular to journalists. Great source, inside source calling, and… the line goes dead.”

“How did he sound? ” Drake asks. “Tone of voice-good news, bad news?”

“The line was staticky,” Margaret says. “And it sounded like he was whispering. But if I had to pin it down I’d say he sounded… excited. It’s nearly a year later and finally they have some news, so of course he’s excited.” She frowns at Drake. “What could the news be? One of the kids was executed and the Bely are releasing a video? Or… the DoD has finally located the kids and they’re sending in a team?”

Both sound equally feasible to Drake. He’d like to side with optimism but the headlines of the past year give him nothing to feel hopeful about.

“We have to wait,” he says. “Keep your phone on, by the side of the bed.”

“Obviously,” Margaret says, “I can’t tell Kelley.”

“That’s right,” Drake says. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

Margaret turns her back to Drake so he can help her with the zipper of her dress. She says, “I haven’t forgotten about your question.”

He says, “I know you haven’t.”

They climb into bed and he holds her tightly. He hopes Kelley and Mitzi are having a good time. He thought they looked happy together.

Good news, he thinks as he falls asleep. Let it be good news.

One kiss under the stars; that was all it was. As she climbs into the car with Mitzi and her father after the party, she tells herself it was a kiss good-bye.

Nathaniel had said, When can I see you again?

Ava had said, You can’t.

Nathaniel had said, How about tomorrow?

Ava had said, Genevieve’s baptism is tomorrow. I’m the godmother.

Nathaniel had said, Will Scott be there?

Ava had hesitated, then said, Yes, Scott will be there.

After Ava gets to her bedroom and takes off the green velvet gown, she texts Scott, I’m home. I love you.

There is no response, but then again, it’s quite late. Scott is probably fast asleep.

He drives around for over an hour, searching the streets for the red Jeep he bought Isabelle in the spring. License plate M89 K17, oval sticker from the Bar on the back window. He checks every street in town and then he checks the house on Friendship Lane that has the enormous Christmas light display with the big blowup Grinch, the colony of North Pole penguins, the Snoopy Santa climbing the roof, and a train that winds through the entire front yard on a figure-eight track. The Jeep is not in town, and it’s not at the Christmas-lights house. Kevin drives by the grocery store, thinking maybe the inn has run out of eggs or cream or coffee. But Isabelle’s Jeep isn’t in the store parking lot. Kevin drives past the Bar and considers stopping in for a beer to calm his nerves. He sees there’s a long line at the door to get in. It’s Christmas Stroll weekend; there will be a live band playing. Norah might be there, but Isabelle and Genevieve most definitely will not.

Kevin drives down Hooper Farm Road, which is where Norah’s mother’s house is-a very plain saltbox with a scrubby, overgrown front yard and a couple of broken-down cars in the driveway, old taxis that Norah’s mother and her husband, Shang, used to drive. There are no lights on at the house. Kevin tries not to think how many times he sneaked in through the bulkhead door late at night when he and Norah were in high school.

He bangs his hands against the steering wheel in frustration, and then he drives home to see if Isabelle has returned.

Isabelle isn’t at the inn, and Kevin has run out of ideas. She doesn’t have any friends with whom she could crash for the night, does she? He can’t think of any. And she wouldn’t want to be out too late driving around with the baby. Has she gone to a hotel? It’s Stroll weekend; certainly, everything is booked. Kevin decides to try the Castle anyway. It’s right down the street from the inn; it would be a logical place for Isabelle to go.

Kevin approaches the front desk. There is a tall, dark-skinned gentleman working. His name tag says Livingston .

“Good evening, Livingston,” Kevin says. “I’m looking for my fiancée. I wonder if she has checked in here? Her name is Isabelle Beaulieu and she would have had an infant with her?”