Sam loved his new house. He wondered, since this was the house he’d always dreamed of, why he’d waited so long? While Indian Summer held sway during the day, the October nights and early mornings were well below freezing. Sam would get up about five when the house was still quiet, and go downstairs. He’d build a fire in the wood stove, wrap himself in his robe and sit in front of the stove drinking coffee. He liked to imagine his father, who would be ninety-five if he were still alive, sitting beside him, watching the orange flames lick the smoky glass of the stove’s door.

This morning Sam was sitting at his computer working on his novel. The house was silent except for the ticking of a battery powered clock hanging on the wall of his study. It was a Big Dog clock that Annie had given him as a house warming present. Its tail wagged like a pendulum with each tick. Everyone had left the house for one reason or another. Kathleen had taken her nieces, Claudia and Vickie, to the Berkshire Mall, and Russ, Teresa and Jimmy had gone to Northampton for an appointment with the psychologist.

They weren’t visiting Sam. They all lived there.

Teresa had decided that Russ truly was sick and that leaving him without trying to help him cope with his illness wasn’t fair, especially to Jimmy. Since Russ was already planning to move in with his father in West Hillton, she joined him and canceled the separation hearing. Sam agreed to take them in temporarily, but only on the condition that Russ have regular appointments with the new psychologist. So far, these visits included Teresa and Jimmy.

It hadn’t been easy having them living in the west wing. Russ had his ups and downs and Teresa was always a tick away from snapping, but there had been some benefits. Teresa’s obsession with cleanliness and orderliness had seen to it that all the moving boxes were unpacked, pictures hung and vacant rooms in the large house made comfortable with furniture purchased from the Goodwill Store. Russ helped too. The day two cords of fire wood were dumped in the driveway, Sam had tried to help his son move the heavy logs into the carriage barn. After an hour’s work, Sam’s back began to ache. The next day, bending over to pick up a fallen napkin, the tight back muscles went into spasm. He was laid up for three days while Russ finished stowing the wood in the barn.

For Jimmy, it was a dream come true. He liked the local elementary school and liked taking the bus. Most of all he thrived on having his parents together again. He had to endure their arguments — which Sam could hear even though they were living at the other end of the house — but they were less frequent and never ended in physical violence. Teresa was frustrated with the satellite dish and phone company connections to the internet, which were essential to her business, but things were getting ironed out. Russ had been unable to find work as a carpenter, and began to talk about going back to teaching. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He enrolled in UMass, Amherst for the winter term to complete the courses he needed to renew his teaching certificate. While waiting for classes to begin in January, he arranged to do substitute teaching interspersed with helping his father put the old house in better shape.

Kathleen had asked if she could stay with him until she found an apartment in Pittsfield. The days had slipped by and she was still at the house. Sam didn’t say so, but he appreciated her being there. She was company in a way Russ or Teresa weren’t.

Having the house quiet enough to hear a clock tick was a rarity after Claudia and Vickie moved in. The day before Cynthia was to leave for Africa, she arrived at the house with the two girls and four suitcases.

“That son-of-a-bitch refused to take the kids. He thought I’d back down and not go, but I’m going. They’ll just have to stay with you. I’ll pay for day care or a nurse maid or an au pair or whatever it takes, but goddamit, I’m going.”

Sam, Kathleen, Russ and Teresa looked at her wide-eyed. Sam shrugged and said, “Okay.”

Kathleen said, “I’ll help.”

Russ said, “That bastard.”

And Teresa said, “Don’t pay an au pair. Pay me. I’ll take care of them.”

It was settled and Cynthia, crying, flew into Sam’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she sobbed. “All of you.”

Annie and her dogs dropped by often. The puppies had all been sold, so it was easier for Annie to get out. The grandchildren escorted Molly and Maggie to the river where the dogs swam and explored new smells in the rock crevasses along the bank. Teresa was a model of polished politeness around Annie, but it was clear to Sam that she neither trusted Annie’s easy going ways nor understood what Annie’s role was in this new extended family. Sam wasn’t sure either, and while this didn’t bother him, it irritated Teresa. Annie, for her part, avoided conflict with Teresa by keeping her distance. When Sam would leave his family for dinner at Annie’s, Teresa always managed a remark such as, “Oh, I thought you liked my beef strogenoff.”

But now the house was quiet. Sam had just finished spell check on the third chapter of his novel, and had written “Chapter Four” at the top of a new page. While he thought how to begin, the phone rang.

“Yes?” Sam said.

“Is this Mr. Langley?” a frightened voice asked.

“Yes. Sam Langley. Who’s this?”

“I need to talk to you and I don’t want you to hang up.”

“Who is this?”

There was a long hesitation. “Jenny Anderson. Don’t hang up Mr. Langley.”

“Are you who I think you are?” Already his voice was angry.

“You know, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Vera called me. Said she’d told you.”

“I haven’t got a damned thing to say to you.”

He was ready to disconnect when she pleaded, “Wait. You’ve got to listen to me.” She began to cry. “Please, Mr. Langley.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’ll go crazy if you don’t. Please. Vera only knows half the story.” Sam slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. “I know I did wrong,” she went on, “but there’s so much more. I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing you can say now that will make any difference.”

“There is, and it’ll mean a lot to you if I tell you. Can I meet you somewhere so we can talk?”

“What’s wrong with right now on the phone?”

“Because it’s got to be face to face. At least it’s got to be for me. I can’t go on with this burden any longer.”

God, what next, Sam said to himself. Then aloud, “Where are you?”

“I’m calling from my cell phone. I’m just down the road at the corner.”

“Okay. Stay there. I’ll walk down.” He disconnected, went downstairs where he put on a jacket and headed out the door. He could see her as soon as he left his driveway and turned onto the road. As he neared her he could see she was young, in her twenties, petite, with long brown hair, and was wearing slacks and a knit sweater. She stood, arms hanging at her side, her pretty face wet with tears.

“Thank you for coming.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. “I got your forwarding address off your old mailbox in Marblehead.”

“Let’s walk up the road,” Sam said. He didn’t stop and she had to catch up. They walked beneath huge sugar maples and towering ash that overhung the road. “Go ahead. Tell me.”

“Vera called me, said she told you. I hadn’t talked to her since I left Elite Design. I don’t know how she found me, but she did. The only reason she called was to hurt me, but I’m glad she did. I’ve wanted to tell somebody the truth ever since this thing happened. She’s a cruel person.”

“You’re right about the cruel part.” Without turning his head he asked straight out, “Did you make a sexual harassment complaint against Sarah?”

Jenny stopped and shuddered. Sam waited. “Yes,” she finally got out.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing, but it was so easy to do. We spent so much time together. People love to gossip. All I had to do was fill in the blanks that didn’t exist.”

“You little bitch. So you lied and drove my wife out of the company to God knows where. Maybe she even killed herself.”

“I know. I know. I know,” she screamed.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Sam stopped and turned to walk back toward his house. “God, I can’t stand this.”

“Don’t go. I’ve got to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Sam yelled.

They said nothing for several moments, each catching their breath. “Sarah hired me six years ago. We were friends from the start. I’m good at what I do and she could see it. So I was always a member of her team. When we were out on shoots we always spent the evenings together, having a couple of drinks in her room, then going out to eat. We had fun together.”

“And the sexual part?” Sam asked, having difficulty saying the words.

“There never was any. We were just good friends.

“Then why the hell . .”

“I’ll tell you,” she said with another burst of sobbing. He stopped and waited for her. “About three years ago, Dave Farwell, that was Sarah’s boss, began to notice my work. He asked if Sarah would mind if I joined his team when they traveled. Sarah was disappointed but didn’t want to stand in the way of my chances for advancement. From then on, every working hour and every hour after work I was with him.” She stopped walking, swallowed hard and said, “The bottom line is, I fell in love with him. I thought he loved me. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. I don’t know now. There was one problem. He was married.

“One day he said he needed my help, and after this one favor he’d divorce his wife and the two of us could go off together to another company in another town.”

“What’s this got to do with Sarah?” Sam asked, irritated with her long tale.

“It’s complicated. Elite Design was providing photo design material for the ad company that had the Massachusetts Tourism account. There were big bucks in it because it included still photos for brochures and video for TV advertising. He billed the ad company for twice what it was worth and they billed the state for what it cost them. The director of tourism approved the bill and the state paid the ad company. They in turn paid Elite Design. Farwell juggled the books so it looked like we charged only what we should have, and he skimmed off the difference. He split this with the director of tourism.”

“Go on,” Sam said.

“Sarah discovered what he was doing. Some of the stuff he billed the ad company for was her work and she knew he’d overpriced it. She confronted him and of course he denied it.”

“How do you know all this?”

“He told me because he knew I’d keep my mouth shut. He said it was money we’d use when we left the company. Well, Sarah kept at him. She used the billing she’d prepared for her work to show he was doubling it when he billed the ad company. She told him she was going to the police.”

“When was this?” Sam asked tying to fit it into the puzzle of Sarah’s last visit to Annie’s.

“I remember it was soon after Mother’s Day, because we had a custom at work of recognizing all the mothers that worked there with a red rose. I could hear Sarah in Farwell’s office arguing and when she came out she was still wearing the rose she’d received that morning.”

“Then what?”

“He called me into his office and told me to write up a sexual harassment complaint against Sarah. I almost laughed when he said it, but he was serious. If I loved him I’d better do it or he might have to go to jail and it’d be over for us. That’s when he explained what he’d been doing with the billing. I was shocked. He said no one would see the complaint but himself and Sarah when he threatened her with it. He was sure she’d get off his case rather than face the humiliation of a board hearing. Then he told me what he wanted me to write: lots of detailed sex, how she seduced me, what she did to me in bed and what she got me to do to her.” Jenny coughed, her face screwed up with disgust. Sam was afraid she was going to throw up.

“Dave didn’t know it, but I was four months pregnant with his child. I was afraid he’d leave me if I didn’t do what he wanted, so I wrote it up and gave it to him. I believed what he said; that no one would see it but him and Sarah. He smiled when he read it. I felt like a traitor. I asked him to be sure nobody else saw it except Sarah. He just laughed.” Jenny dropped her eyes to the road covered with yellow and orange leaves. “Either he showed it to Vera or Vera found out about it some other way. But the next day when we came to work, my complaint, in all its lurid details, was all over the company. Sarah was in her office for a last minute briefing with her team. They were leaving that day for a trip to Seattle. Vera went into Sarah’s office and called her aside to show her the complaint. After she read it she stormed into Farwell’s office. I was there. She yelled at me. Said I was goddammed whore and hoped he paid me well for making up the complaint. Then she said she quit, but was still going to the police. And then she left. I heard she went back to her office, grabbed the bag she’d packed for her trip and left. I don’t think she ever went to the police.”

They turned around and without speaking headed back toward Jenny’s car. Sam had his head down and his hands jammed in his jacket pockets. Jenny was crying softly.

“You did a horrible thing,” he said shaking his head slowly. Jenny nodded. He thought of other things he could say, but what would be the point. When they reached the car Sam didn’t stop.

“Don’t just leave me here,” Jenny called to him as he walked away. ”I’m sorry. I came all the way out here to tell you the truth.” Sam kept walking toward the house. “You’ve got to forgive me.”

Sam stopped and turned toward her. “You poor gullible child. You’ll get no forgiveness from me. Go to a priest if that’s what you want.” Then he went home.


Chapter Twenty-Eight