Elin Hilderbrand - The Rumor

Together, the six of them approached the side door of 10 Low Beach Road. The girls were quiet as Eddie knocked-two raps, then one.

A very tall, lean man with crooked teeth opened the door. This was Bugsy. He was wearing a blue T-shirt, jeans, and a Minnesota Twins baseball hat. He looked slightly less terrifying than he had on the Internet.

“Greetings!” he said. He opened the door wide and ushered them all inside.

Eddie let the girls precede him, and then he, too, entered. The side door led right into the humongous gourmet kitchen, which was lit only by ivory pillar candles. Set out on the Carrara marble countertops were a lavish spread of sushi and ice buckets holding bottles of Cristal champagne. The girls tried to contain their squeals of excitement. This was how it should be done-a proper wooing-although plenty of times this summer, they had walked in on pizza boxes and a tower of empty beer cans. And, one time, on a half-eaten chocolate cake that had been crawling with ants. Nadia had confided that sometimes the mess was so bad, the girls became distracted because they knew they would be coming back in the morning to clean up.

It kill the mood, you know, Eddie? Nadia had said. Thinking we the girlfriend tonight, but tomorrow, we the maid.

Sushi was the girls’ particular favorite, and they loved champagne. Bugsy said to Eddie, “Want to stay for a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Eddie said. He wasn’t comfortable being inside this house. He wanted to get the money and go.

“You wear that hat all the time?” Bugsy asked. “Even at night?”

Eddie nodded.

“You get it in Cuba?” Bugsy asked.

“Ecuador, actually,” Eddie said. He was used to explaining that, although it was called a Panama hat, it was made in the town of Montecristi, Ecuador.

“You self-conscious because you’re bald?” Bugsy asked. Bugsy was also bald. He touched the brim of his ball cap.

Eddie didn’t want to discuss with Bugsy the things about himself that made him insecure, but he feared that to deny the statement would only invite a rebuttal.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “A little, I guess.” He had started wearing the Panama hat in his late twenties, when his hair started to fall out.

Bugsy reached out to bump fists with Eddie. Then he put two fingers among his crooked, ruined teeth and gave a sharp whistle. Instantly, other men appeared in the kitchen, and within seconds, all of the girls were paired up-except for Nadia. Nadia, it seemed, belonged to Bugsy.

Eddie couldn’t bear to watch this strange courtship ritual. Already, Elise was kissing a man with black, slicked-back hair like a vampire’s. Eddie turned to Bugsy but found himself unable to broach the matter of payment. It was Nadia who came to his rescue. She said, “Why don’t you give Eddie money so he can vamoose?”

Bugsy tweaked Nadia’s nose as if she were his precocious niece, and then he indicated that Eddie should follow him out the side door. Eddie was only too happy to leave. He waved at the girls and said, “I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.”

None of the girls responded. They were working. He had ceased to matter.

As soon as they stepped into the mild summer night air, Bugsy produced a padded envelope about the size of a feather pillow. So much money. Eddie did his best not to seem grabby.

“They’ll come every night this week?” Bugsy asked.

“Yes,” Eddie said.

“Well then,” Bugsy said. “For services rendered.” He presented the envelope to Eddie formally, with two hands.

“Thank you,” Eddie said.

“Thank you,” Bugsy said.

There was a sudden strong grip on Eddie’s shoulder and a blinding light in his eyes.

“Whoa!” Eddie said. His Panama hat fell to the ground, and Eddie heard the unmistakable crunch of foot on straw, which made him wince. His third hat this summer. His final hat.

Inside, one of the girls screamed, and a second later, more girls were screaming. Eddie’s hands were wrenched behind his back. He was being cuffed. A man with a salty South Boston accent read Eddie his Miranda rights. He was under arrest.

The girls were screaming. Were they being hurt? Eddie wondered. Suddenly, Nadia popped out the side door and said, “Hello, Eddie, please, we need help inside.” Her voice was calm and casual, as if they had blown a fuse or required his assistance in opening a jar of pickles.

“Miss?” the Southie accent said. “Stop right there, please. FBI.”

FBI, Eddie thought. He wanted to run. He was Fast Eddie, the finest track star to come out of New Bedford High School in thirty-five years. If pressed, he knew, he could still sprint a quarter mile in under a minute. He could be halfway to Sankaty Head Lighthouse before anyone knew in which direction he’d gone. But then what? He lived on an island.

He closed his eyes and waited for the flames to start climbing the walls of his chest. He thought of Grace, asleep in their California king bed with the feather-top mattress. Grace. He pictured her washing the dinner dishes. He pictured lifting up her thick, dark hair and nuzzling the back of her neck, a move from early in their relationship that he had long ago abandoned.

He should have stayed home, eaten the steak and the fingerlings that she had made specially for him. He should have made love to his wife. Tried to make her laugh again. Tried to make her happy again.

But then he reminded himself that the only way he had ever known to make Grace happy was by giving her everything her heart desired.

“That’s why I needed the money,” Eddie said to the man behind him, whom he still could not see. “It was for my wife.”

“Save it for the judge,” the Southie accent said.

“If you let me go, I’ll figure out something different to do for Grace,” Eddie said. “Something better.”

“You can figure it out in prison,” the Southie accent said. “You’ll have plenty of time.”

The girls filed out of the house in a tight line, like they were being marched by Stalin. All of them were crying.

“Eddie!” Nadia cried out.

Instinctively, Eddie tried to free his hands.

“Easy, buddy,” the Southie accent said. He led Eddie toward the back of a black Suburban. Eddie thought of the Chief turning him down for drinks. I have plans tonight. Did the Chief know about this sting? He must have. Eddie had thought they were friends.

You’re a good guy, Eddie. A really good guy.

Realizing just how untrue this was broke Eddie’s burning heart.

Something about the article in the Boston Globe changed things for Grace. Seeing the photos of her and Benton and reading the text describing the wonderland they had created together had been so validating. It was a depiction of her private Eden. Grace knew it was crazy, but she felt as if she were the only woman on earth and Benton the only man. When Benton came to the house on Monday, Grace was consumed with a crazy, searing desire. For the first time ever, she pulled him into the garden shed. She kissed him and said, “I’d really like to marry you.”

“One little problem,” Benton said. “You’re already married.”

“I don’t care,” Grace said.

Benton touched her face. “You can’t just up and leave. What about the girls? They need you.”

“This time next year, they’ll be headed to college,” Grace said.

“Yes, but a year is a long time,” Benton said. “You’re not seriously considering leaving Eddie now, are you?”

Was she? If she were in a position to talk it over with Madeline, Madeline would say, You have two children, Grace, and a beautiful home. Are you prepared to give that up? Benton Coe is a talented man, but he has no roots here. He lives in an apartment above his office, he gallivants around the world all winter. He probably doesn’t even have health insurance.

I’m sure he has health insurance, Grace would retort.

She could now picture herself and Benton as a viable couple. Despite what everyone else thought, Grace didn’t require much in the way of creature comforts; she could live out of a backpack. She could handle a winter in Morocco or Palm Beach, someplace warm and exotic, away from her endless responsibilities as a wife and mother.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll leave at the end of the summer.”

“You’re talking crazy, Grace,” Benton said. “But I like it.” He growled and put his lips to the most sensitive part of her neck.

As they had so many times before, they were making love in the garden shed-until Grace heard Eddie’s voice.

“Grace!”

It was all Grace could do not to shriek. She struggled to get back into her sundress and fix her hair while Benton pulled his shorts up, whispering profanities.

Grace put a finger to her lips. They needed to stay quiet. It sounded like Eddie was on the deck. When he went searching for her elsewhere, she and Benton could slip out. But Eddie wasn’t stupid. Benton’s truck was in the driveway, and Eddie had probably already checked the house, and-here was the worst thought-the gardening shed had four windows, although they were high up and Eddie would need a ladder. But if he got a ladder and peered in the window, he would see them. The longer Grace and Benton waited to open the door, the worse it would look. Every second they waited was bringing them closer to destruction. There wasn’t even anything to busy themselves with in the shed. What would she and Benton say they’d been doing?

There was silence for a long moment, and Grace thought, Open the door! No, keep it closed and locked! Maybe Eddie would go back to work. What was he doing home, anyway? Benton was sweating buckets; he looked pale and nauseated, and Grace thought he might vomit in the copper sink. She needed him to be calm, take charge, tell her what to do.

Then there was a sharp knock on the door of the shed, and they both jumped. Please, God! Grace thought. She was an adulterer about to be caught-she had no business resorting to prayer, but that was what she did. She whispered a Hail Mary.

Eddie said, “Benton, you’re all done here, as of right now. You’re done, and I will not be paying your final bill. You’ve taken more from me than I owe you. Now, I’m leaving, and you will leave right after me, and you will never come back.”

Benton nodded sharply. He was shaking. Why didn’t he open the door and stand up to Eddie? Why didn’t he say, You just can’t order me off this job, I’ve done nothing wrong! Or, since that wasn’t quite believable, why didn’t he just tell Eddie the truth: I’m in love with your wife! I’m going to marry her!

Instead, Benton winced, and Grace actually thought he might cry. Then they heard Eddie retreat; they heard the engine of his car. He was leaving, just as he’d said.

Benton looked at Grace. “I’m going.”

“But…?” Grace said. “I thought…?”

Benton said, “When word about this gets around, it is going to be so bad, Grace. Bad for you, but really bad for me. I could lose my business. I will lose my business, for sure. I can’t stay here.” He pulled at hanks of his ginger hair. “I can’t believe I was so stupid! Jesus!”

Grace didn’t like the way he was talking. She said, “Ten minutes ago you said you liked hearing how I would give everything up for you.”

“Ten minutes ago we hadn’t gotten caught!” Benton said. “And when I said you were talking crazy, I meant it. This is make-believe, Grace. I’m not saying it hasn’t been wonderful. It was fun and exciting and sexy-just like a summer romance is supposed to be.”

“It’s more than a summer romance,” Grace said. “I’ve already decided to leave.”

“No, don’t do that. Please.” He opened the door to the shed, and sweet, cool air filled the space, but Grace found she couldn’t breathe. “I have to get out of here,” Benton said, and he strode away, disappearing around the side of the house without a look back at Grace. A few seconds later, she heard the engine of his truck. She thought, He’s leaving me. He’s leaving me.

In the minutes that followed, Grace called Benton’s cell phone seven times and left five voice mails. She sent him four text messages of varying lengths. In return, there was silence.

Grace called Eddie’s office. She needed to tell him that, no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t tell anyone about what he’d discovered. If he did, all of their lives would be ruined-his, hers, Benton’s, and the twins’! But Eloise answered and delivered Grace’s call to Eddie’s voice mail. Grace was afraid that either Eloise or Barbie would listen to the message, and so she talked about dinner plans. Steaks. Potatoes and corn. Then she broke down and hung up.