Free Whispers and Lies by Joy Fielding Page A

He’d continued harassing me longdistance until I’d threatened to call his employer. And then suddenly, the phone calls stopped.
    Until tonight.
    I shook my head, amazed that though Erica Hollander had been gone for almost three months, she was still causing me grief. She’d been my first tenant and, I’d vowed after she’d taken off, my last.
    What had happened to change my mind?
    Truth be told, I missed having someone around. I don’t have a lot of friends. There are my co-workers, women like Margot and Caroline, but we rarely socializeaway from the hospital. Caroline has a demanding husband, and Margot has four kids to look after. And I’ve always been a little reserved. This shyness, coupled with my tendency to throw myself into my work, has made it hard for me to meet new people. Plus, my mother was sick for so long before she died, and between caring for my patients at the hospital and caring for her at home, well, there are only so many hours in a day.
    Besides, something insidious happens to women in our society when they turn forty, especially if they’re not married. We get lost in a heavy, free-floating haze. It becomes difficult to see us. People know we’re there; it’s just that we’ve become a little fuzzy, so blurred around the edges we’ve begun blending into the surrounding scenery. It’s not that we’re invisible exactly—people actually step around us to avoid confronting us—but the truth is we are no longer
seen
. And if you aren’t seen, you aren’t heard.
    That’s what happens to women over forty.
    We lose our voice.
    Maybe that’s why we seem so angry. Maybe it’s not hormones after all. Maybe we just want someone to pay attention.
    Anyway, I started thinking about how nice it had been when Erica Hollander had first moved in, how much fun it had been having someone around, even if we didn’t see each other all that much. I don’t know. Somehow, just the fact that someone was sharing my space had made me feel less alone. So I decided to try it again. What is it they say about second marriages? That they’re a triumph of hope over experience?
    At any rate, I was determined not to make the samemistakes the second time around. That’s why I’d decided against advertising for a tenant in the newspaper, choosing instead to post a number of discreet notices around the hospital. I reasoned that, this way, I was more likely to attract someone older, more responsible. Maybe a professional, perhaps even a woman like myself.
    Instead I got Alison.
    The phone rang, bringing me back to the present. I became aware of the air conditioner blowing against the back of my neck, like a lover’s cool breath. I shuddered with the chill.
    “Hi, it’s me,” Alison chirped as I lifted the receiver to my ear. “Didn’t you hear me knock?”
    The towel at my breast came loose and fell to the floor as I rose to my feet. “What? No. Where are you?”
    “At your kitchen door. I’m on my cell. Is everything all right?”
    “Fine. I’m just running a little late. Can I pick you up in ten minutes?”
    “No problem.”
    Securing my towel around me, I walked to my bedroom window and watched from behind the white lace curtain as Alison ambled back toward the cottage. She was wearing a slinky, navy dress I didn’t remember seeing in her closet, and her silver sling-back shoes, which she had no trouble walking in at all. I watched as she tucked her cell phone inside the silver purse dangling from her shoulder, only to withdraw it again almost immediately, several loose bills escaping their cramped confines and wafting toward the ground. Alison immediately scooped up the money and stuffed it back inside her small silverbag. I quickly recalled the handful of $100 bills Alison had given me for first and last month’s rent, then found myself thinking about the $100 that had gone missing from Caroline’s purse. Was it possible Alison had taken it?
    “That’s ridiculous,” I said out loud, watching