Free Silver Girl by Elin Hilderbrand Page B

with her head, like it was a ball he was trying to get the correct grip on. Then he had one hand on her ear, and he was kissing her, deeply and desperately. And she thought,
Oh, my God, yes!
Yes!
    They stood against the tree kissing for twenty minutes? Thirty minutes? They kissed until Toby’s hands fell to her hips, he pulled her against him and groaned, and he played with the bottom edge of her sweatshirt as if considering whether or not to lift it, and although Meredith was thinking,
Yes, lift it, lift it,
she pulled away.
    She said, “I really have to go. I have a long way to walk.”
    He said, “Will you go with me tomorrow night to see
Animal House
?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “Just you and me?” he said. “A date.”
    “Yes,” she said.
    He smiled at her and she saw his teeth, straight and white. She had known him through three years of braces and rubber bands. She had known him when his teeth fell out and he left them under his pillow for the tooth fairy. She waved and backed away and he said, “I’ll pick you up at seven!”
    “Okay!” she said. And she ran all the way home.

    But then Connie was mad and wouldn’t speak to Meredith on the phone. Meredith considered calling the O’Brien house again, asking to speak to Toby, and telling him the date was off. But Meredith couldn’t make herself do that. She was in the grip of a romantic and sexual urge that wouldn’t be denied. She liked Toby, and Connie would have to wrap her mind around that. Connie had Matt Klein; they had gone to third base, or nearly. Connie couldn’t have Matt and expect Meredith to have nobody; that was unfair. Meredith was sorry it was Toby, but this was a matter of the heart, one beyond her control.

    Meredith’s eyes drifted closed. It was a welcome change to be thinking about something else, even if that something was Toby O’Brien. Sailing in Annapolis, seducing in Anguilla. At Connie’s wedding, Meredith had been close. At Veronica’s funeral, even closer. But Meredith hadn’t allowed herself to get sucked back in. She had been lucky.
    When Meredith woke up, Connie was lying in the chaise next to her, reading.
    Meredith thought,
Oh, thank God. She came back.

    They went for a walk on the beach.
    Meredith said, “I was thinking about Nadine Dexter and Wendy Thurber. Do you remember the night of Wendy’s pool party?”
    “Wendy
who?
” Connie said.
    Meredith didn’t say,
I was remembering the night I first kissed your brother.
    Meredith said, “I’m going in the water.”
    “Suit yourself,” Connie said. “It’s too cold for me.”

    Later, they took outdoor showers, and Meredith put on white shorts and a navy Trina Turk tunic, refugees from her Hamptons closet circa 2007. She went downstairs with her hair still damp. Connie was pouring herself a glass of wine. It was five o’clock. A day hadn’t passed that quickly for Meredith since long before Freddy’s arrest—but this mere thought triggered a heaviness. She pictured Leo and Carver with plaster dust sugaring their hair and clothes, sitting on the wide front porch of the imaginary house, drinking a beer. They were okay, Meredith told herself. They were fine.
    “Glass of wine?” Connie asked.
    Meredith decided she would have a glass of wine; maybe it would help her sleep.
    “White or red?” Connie said.
    “White, please,” Meredith said. She didn’t want to think about the Ruffino Chianti, their usual table at Rinaldo’s, Freddy saying,
Here comes your poison, Meredith.
Freddy didn’t approve of Meredith drinking, and he rarely, if ever, drank himself. He didn’t like losing control, he said. Of course, he hadn’t always felt that way. He had been a social drinker in college and young adulthood, and then, as his business grew, he had transitioned into abstinence. Now, Meredith knew that you couldn’t lie and cheat
and
drink, because what if you let something slip? What if you let the facade crumble? She thought of Freddy throwing back those