Free Lovers and Liars by Brenda Joyce Page A

during their courtship. Nancy had never loved him more, had never been happier. She pretended other women didn’t exist. And then Belinda was born.
    Nancy knew—although Belinda didn’t—that Abe had never forgiven his daughter for not being a son.
    He was so disappointed he couldn’t hide it. He was so disappointed he was angry. He was so disappointed he was indifferent to the tiny human being who was his own flesh and blood.
    Nancy told herself he would get over it. She loved her tiny daughter. She wanted to do everything for her. But she was Mrs. Glassman, and Mrs. Glassman had to have a nursemaid and a nursery and was not allowed to be like other mothers. She was not allowed to change diapers or feed her daughter or answer her cries at two A.M .
    Nancy failed to conceive again, and she knew that she was failing her husband. The silent accusation was always there. She gradually became aware that Abe had refocused: As soon as Belinda was old enough he intended to marry her off, so she could give him a grandson.
    Nancy had always been faithful to Abe. Adultery was not even in her vocabulary. And though she and her daughter weren’t close, when Belinda was forcibly sent to camp that summer, Nancy thought that she might die from thedesperation and loneliness of her life that Belinda’s leaving seemed to expose.
    Just before camp started Abe had hired a new driver. He was twenty-one, a would-be actor named Jack Ford. Nancy didn’t look at other men, but she seemed to notice him. At first just a little, then constantly. Especially when they were thrown together every day. Abe was spending a lot of time out of town on business, leaving Nancy with the car and driver at her disposal. That summer was one endless shopping spree. In an attempt to enrich her life and take away the loneliness.
    He was blatantly sexy, certainly one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. He held the door for her, said good morning and good night, and she found herself too flustered to respond. She was careful to drop her gaze from his compelling eyes before he could read her thoughts. For she was starting to fantasize about him—and Nancy was appalled at herself.
    They had a home in South Hampton, on the beach. They went there every weekend in the summer. Abe would fly out late on Friday nights, while Nancy usually stayed from Thursday morning until Sunday because she wanted Belinda out of the hot city. The weekend after Belinda left for camp, Abe had to go to Los Angeles on business, and Nancy had no desire to stay in the sweltering city alone. She left for the Hamptons. Jack drove her in the limo.
    She wasn’t really a drinker, but she’d had Jack pull over in Hampton Bays at a liquor store, and she sipped Scotch for the next thirty minutes until they got to the house. She began to wonder if she was making a mistake coming out alone for the weekend. The house was vast—twenty-five rooms—and Nancy was suddenly filled with dread.
    She didn’t want to be alone.
    She still didn’t know quite how it had happened. They arrived late; the staff was asleep. Nancy was a little drunk and getting more depressed by the minute. Jack carried her bags in, and she had almost swooned with gratitude when he said, his voice full of concern, “Are you okay, Mrs. Glassman?”
    She started to cry, but she managed to stop. “Yes, I’m fine.” She looked at him.
    He had brilliant green eyes, full of compassion, that searched hers. Waiting. Somewhere along the line he had taken his cap off. His hair was dark gold, streaked with shimmering lighter strands. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar open.
    “I’ll get the rest of your bags,” he had said.
    When he came back in she asked him if he’d like to have a drink. Just companionship, she told herself.
    And then he took her in his arms.
    It felt so good.
    “God, you are beautiful. It’s so hard working for you, day after day …”
    His arms were strong, and he wouldn’t let her move away. She