Free The Girl with a Clock for a Heart: A Novel by Peter Swanson Page A

Jane’s not her real name of course, but it’s all that I have to go on. I met her at the Cockle Bay Resort in Barbados. I was down there on business, and she was working the reception desk. She checked me into my room, and like Rebecca and like Teresa, she had very dark hair, almost black, and very blue eyes. Not only that, but she shared the same haircut that my first wife had. Shoulder length and flipped under a little.”
    MacLean demonstrated the curve of the hair with his own hand. It was a curiously feminine gesture coming from such a masculine man.
    “Now, I know that everything old is new again and old styles come back, but it did remind me of my first wife. Not that I was suspicious at the time. I wasn’t of course—why would I be? But I remember thinking that I had just seen the spitting image of my first wife, and no offense to Teresa”—MacLean looked at the ceiling as he said her name—“but I had met the second most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
    “That night I was having a drink in one of the resort’s bars with an employee, and Jane came in and sat at the bar and got herself a glass of wine. I assumed it was the end of her shift and she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She never looked in my direction, but—and I am to blame for this—I went over and introduced myself. I told myself I just wanted to let her know that she reminded me of my departed wife and that the very sight of her had warmed an old man’s heart. I was going to get it off my chest, and then I was going to go back to my table and leave her alone. But she was talkative, asked me questions about my life, about my work. She’d been in Barbados a year and was sick of it, but she loved the weather and she loved the people. We talked till about two or three in the morning. She lived in an apartment building about a quarter mile down the beach, and I walked her home. She was not flirtatious exactly, but she was clearly interested in me. To tell the truth, I thought that she wanted a job in my company, that she saw me as a way out of Barbados.
    “I stayed at the resort for about three more days and had a drink with Jane every night. On the last night, I walked her back, I gave her one of my business cards and told her that if she was interested in a position, there might be something for her at my corporate headquarters. I remember she laughed at me, said, ‘You think I’ve been having drinks with you because I thought you could get me a job?’ I told her it had crossed my mind and asked her why in fact she was interested in me. Well, she kissed me, and God forgive me, I kissed her back. You won’t believe me, but I’ve had two wives, plus a serious girlfriend in high school and a serious girlfriend in college, and I had never cheated on any of them. That’s the honest truth.”
    He stared across at George as though daring him to say otherwise. George scratched an elbow.
    “Well, you don’t need to hear details about the next part, but I started going down to Barbados every chance I could get, and pretty soon I told Jane that I needed her a lot closer to me than a four-hour flight away, and she agreed to come to Atlanta and work as my personal assistant. This was a couple of years ago. Teresa was seeing a different specialist every week, and each one told us something different, and all the while that was going on I was setting up an apartment for Jane in Atlanta. I felt pretty sordid about it back then, but not as bad as I feel now. I won’t say Jane used witchcraft on me, but it was pretty near. I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d never felt that way before.”
    MacLean rubbed the back of his neck, and for a second George thought he might get up and leave the room, but he continued. “It was pretty clear that Teresa was going to die, and there was no doubt in my mind that after a decent period I would ask Jane to become my wife. It seemed like the natural progression of things. Then two things happened.” MacLean held