Free Keeping Time: A Novel by Stacey Mcglynn Page A

the talking. If you ask me, Dennis looked as surprised to hear about them close to settling on a new house as you were, Lenny.”
    “Could be, could be,” Lenny, agreeing.
    Daisy, feisty. “Well, there’s not going to be any sale of this house. Dennis knows that. I never signed the papers. There’s not going to be any profits, so#connecthabck there’s not going to be any big house for Amanda—at least not till I’m dead and buried.” Crossing her arms over her chest.
    “Good. I never did like the talk of it. Dennis was probably just afck to its usua

FOURTEEN
    THE NIGHT BEFORE DAISY’S ARRIVAL, the house, quiet. Everyone asleep.
    Except Elisabeth—again. Lying in bed, her nightgown clammy, damp, matching the sheets beneath her, listening to Richard snore, as she had done so many nights before. But unlike any other night, this time quietly slipping out from under the covers. Creeping silently out of the room, down the stairs to the powder room where she had left a change of clothes. Still not fully sure that she would actually go through with it. It would be, arguably, the craziest thing she had ever done. Moving forward with the plan, brewing coffee in the dimly lit kitchen of the dark, silent house, asking herself again about the wisdom of her quest.
    Deciding that crazy or not, she was going to do it.
    Pouring the steaming hot coffee into her well-worn stainless steel travel mug. Unable to remember the last time she had had coffee from a regular ceramic mug while sitting at her kitchen table. Who didn’t only have coffee on the go anymore? Adding skim milk, a no-calorie sweetener. Grabbing a box of cookies, a can of peanuts, not wanting to get sidetracked by hunger or exhaustion. Slinking soundlessly out of the kitchen into the cool night air, down the front path, and onto the paved driveway.
    Slowly opening her car door, noiselessly. Placing her coffee in thecup holder, the food and her handbag on the passenger seat. About to get in, stopping herself, with one foot in and one out. Deciding to check his car first.
    Over to it, his brand-new silver BMW. Kneeling on the driver’s seat. Her palms surfing the upholstery, the carpeting, under the seats. Scanning the whole interior.?” Elisabeth, askingfha home and
    For darts.
    If he was Dart Man, he would have darts.
    Scouring the inside, coming up empty. Relieved but not surprised. It would be foolish of him to keep them in there. Their absence proved nothing. They would be too easily detected in his car, stashed under a seat or in a glove compartment. The boys could go into his car on a whim, and so could she. Elisabeth, out of his car, closing the door softly.
    Slipping into her leased black Mercedes SUV. Heading out.
    To Manhattan. To Richard’s office. To check for darts.
    Knowing it was crazy but going all the same—through the dark and empty Port Washington streets, along the harbor and around the curve to Main Street, past the hardware store and the library, past the many restaurants, gas stations, pubs, delis, and bagel stores toward the highway.
    Daisy was coming tomorrow. Elisabeth needed to know if she had invited this old cousin to Dart Man’s house.
    IT WAS NO TROUBLE for Elisabeth to get into Richard’s building through revolving doors into a vast lobby at 1:30 in the morning. All it took was her driver’s license. The security guards tended not to mess with partners’ spouses.
    The elevator, opening into the ultramodern, high-tech reception room of his thirty-sixth floor office. Elisabeth, checking the long hallways, right and left, relieved to find them free of people. She hadn’t exactly figured out what she would say.
    Although she hadn’t visited it in years, she had no trouble remembering the way to Richard’s office. When Steve and Pete were small she used to take them to Richard’s office every Christmas. They would all go together to see the tree at Rockefeller Center before elbowing their way through FAO Schwarz and joining the