“Not a cookbook,” Buck said. “I was thinking maybe… TV?”
“TV?” Deacon said. “You mean, like Julia Child?”
“And the other guy…,” Laurel said. “The Frugal Gourmet.” She smiled at Buck, and he felt his face grow hot. “Deacon could do for cooking what Bob Ross has done for painting. Just a little indication of a tree over here… I think it’s a great idea.” She leaned across the table and slapped her hand down. Her fingernails were filed but not painted. Buck could have peeked down the front of her white sundress, but there was nothing to see; she was flat chested. And lightly tanned, with long, sandy-colored hair. Laurel Thorpe was a natural, unvarnished beauty. “Can you make it happen?”
He had made it happen—for her. This many years later, John Buckley could admit, he had worked his ass off cold-calling and making a nuisance of himself with his superiors, all for Laurel. Deacon got a screen test at ABC, where the execs were looking for late-night material to launch opposite Johnny Carson. Deacon was offered a half-hour slot called Day to Night to Day with Deacon. Deacon had been young and savage in those days, real and hungry.
Now, Laurel smiled. “I remember how nervous you were. I thought you were just excited to sign your first client.”
“It was you,” Buck said. Laurel had belonged to Deacon—she was his wife—but Buck had been overwhelmed just by sitting across the table from her. He could remember wanting to sound professional, confident, impressive. “So anyway, the run-in with Belinda…”
“Yes?” Laurel said. “Did the two of you have an argument?”
“An argument?” Buck said. He wished they’d had an argument. They should have had an argument. “No.” He sighed. “She, well… she hit on me. Do people even say that anymore? She came on to me… while you were in town this afternoon… and I let it happen.”
“You slept with her?” Laurel asked.
“Not exactly,” Buck said. “But close enough.”
“You…?” Laurel waved a hand as if she were trying to erase him. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. But you’re saying something happened between the two of you? Something sexual?”
Buck nodded. He could picture Sister Mary Agatha, her pasty, white face strained in her wimple. “I had a weak moment.”
“A weak…? Okay, wow.” Laurel pushed her glasses up her nose. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. I’m… frankly, I’m disgusted.”
“Laurel,” he said.
“I understand you’re grief stricken,” Laurel said. “And maybe that’s clouding your judgment. But I thought you and I had a connection. You almost kissed me on the deck, right? Or was I imagining that?”
“You weren’t imagining it,” Buck said. “I was about to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day long. Like I just said, Laurel, I’ve been half in love with you ever since I can remember.”
Laurel picked up her book, and for a second, Buck thought she was going to throw it at him, but instead she flung it across the room. So much for euphoria. “I’ve always thought you were different from everyone else, Buck. Better than everyone else. You’re like a man from another age, with the suits and the handkerchiefs and the elegant manners. But, as it turns out, you’re just like your friend Deacon. You have no self-control! Belinda bats her eyes at you, and you surrender? You know why she came on to you, right? She wanted to prove she could steal you from me. It’s a sport for her, Buck!” Laurel’s voice was quiet but furious. “This morning, when we went to the beach together, she told me I should date you. And then… what… a matter of hours later, she’s unzipping your fly? She can’t help herself, I guess. She has to steal what might be mine. And I’m supposed to sit back and let her because I’m the nice one. Do you know what happens to nice people, Buck? They lose. They lose every time.”
“Laurel, no—” Buck said.
“I’ll state the obvious,” Laurel said. “I won’t have Belinda paying for my part of this house. I will not allow it.”
“Laurel, please…”
“Get out of here, Buck. I don’t want to be part of a game where you sleep with every woman in this house!”
“Laurel, that isn’t what I’m doing,” Buck said.
“Belinda this afternoon, me tonight,” Laurel said. “I know you didn’t come in here to play Scrabble or have a discussion about Papua New Guinea. You came in here hoping to get lucky.”
“No, I—”
“If Scarlett shows up, you’ll go after her, too, I’m sure,” Laurel said. “Hat trick.”
“No, I—”
“And do you know why?” Laurel said. “Because all these many years, you were jealous of Deacon. You wanted everything he had. Admit it!”
Laurel’s hair was falling in her face; her cheeks were pink. The awful thing was that Buck had never seen her look more beautiful than she did at that moment, when she was confronting him with the truth. Yes, he had been jealous of Deacon. It had been impossible not to be jealous of Deacon. The man had a talent and a magnetism and a raw power that was unparalleled in anyone Buck had ever met.
“I was jealous of Deacon, yes,” Buck said. “But that’s not what this is about…”
“Get out of my bedroom, Buck,” Laurel said. “Please.”
Buck stood up to leave. This was officially the last time he would tell the truth to anyone. From now on, it would be all deceit and subterfuge.
Laurel’s phone rang on the nightstand. Buck turned.
“Go on,” Laurel said. “It’s probably just my other lover.” She looked at the display, then answered the phone. “Hello?”
Buck lingered at the door in case Laurel needed him, although it was doubtful that he would be able to do anything other than mess things up further.
“Oh God,” Laurel said. “Buck?”
Buck swung around.
“It’s the police,” Laurel said. “Hayes is at the hospital.”
Laurel wanted to drive, but Buck insisted. “You’re too upset,” he said. “Just tell me where I’m going.”
“He’s not dying,” Laurel said. It sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “He was assaulted, the police said. And robbed.”
“Here on Nantucket?” Buck said. “I didn’t know there was any crime.”
“I read about a prostitution ring busted here last year,” Laurel said. “It was run by a local real estate agent, and his clients were high-end businessmen here on vacation. Further proving to me that all men are depraved.”
Buck pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Laurel rushed into the emergency room entrance without waiting for him. Should he go in? If Deacon were here, Deacon would go in, but Deacon was the father. Buck was a paltry surrogate. Was he anything more than a buzzard feasting on his best friend’s leftovers?
Yes, goddamn it! He loved Laurel. He loved her more than he could remember loving any woman, including his two wives. How spectacularly he had blown it! He should have told Belinda to leave him alone. He should have pushed her away. Of course Laurel was hurt! Why had he expected otherwise?
At that second, the Jeep door opened and Laurel climbed in and Hayes crawled into the back with a groan. His face was swollen and bruised; his nose was bandaged, and he had a black eye.
“He won’t cooperate with the police,” Laurel said. “He won’t tell them who did this.”
“Mom,” Hayes said in a nasal voice, “I don’t know who did this.”
“I don’t understand what you were doing out,” Laurel said. “I thought you went to bed, like the rest of us.”
“I got antsy,” Hayes said. “Cabin fever. I’m used to nightlife, Mom. That’s how I roll.”
“How did you get to town?” Laurel asked. “You certainly didn’t walk.”