Free The Woman Next Door by Barbara Delinsky Page B

before and broken his word. Karen didn’t know what to believe anymore.
    Letting herself in the back door, she found her kitchen empty of all but a neatly set table and the smell of a meaty lasagna. By the time she had fixed a salad, her daughter, Julie—six years old and her little helper—was at her elbow. Karen sliced bread; Julie put the slices in a basket, then, standing on tiptoe, put the basket in the microwave oven.
    The twins, Jared and Jon, appeared moments later. They were eight and had identically tousled hair and allergy-stuffed noses that gave their voices a nasal quality. That said, she might not have caught what they said even if their voices had been clear. They had a way of talking to each other that was unintelligible to others. It wasn’t a different language, exactly, just a kind of run-on murmur. They had been communicating with each other that way since they were old enough to talk. A tight twosome everywhere they went, they were as self-reliant as eight-year-olds could be. Though Karen drove them places, cooked their food, cleaned their rooms, and bought their clothes, they made her feel superfluous. That was one of the reasons she cherished Julie. Julie needed her. Julie adored her.
    The three younger children were barely seated when Jordie came in. Again—still—Karen was startled when she looked at him. At fifteen, he was finally shooting up, seeming suddenly to be making up for lost time. He was now taller than she was. Between that and the change that puberty had made in his features, he was starting to look so much like a man—like Lee, actually—that Karen neverfailed to be jarred. Then again, the jarring was likely because he was in his usual rush, reaching for bread and digging into his lasagna as though he was late. No doubt he had evening plans.
    She was losing him. It was so clear to her that he wanted to be anywhere but here, doing things that she couldn’t see, and it made her nervous.
    But she couldn’t make him stay home. Boys his age needed to be with their peers. That didn’t mean she was comfortable with how much he was gone from the house, however.
    She asked about his day. He mumbled an answer between mouthfuls. She teased him about sounding like the twins, who protested in a way that was perfectly articulate because they chose it to be. When they lapsed into murmurs, she returned to Jordie, but she had barely gotten out a question about baseball practice when Julie howled. She had touched the hot lasagna pan and burned her finger. Karen rushed her to the sink, held the finger under cold water, gave her an ice cube to hold, and guided her back to her chair. By then, Jordie was wolfing down seconds.
    She told him to slow down. He said that the guys were already at Sean’s house. She asked what they were up to. He said they were listening to a new CD. She asked if he had finished his homework, and he said he would finish it there. She said she wanted him home by ten, and, with a look of dismay, he asked her why. When she said it was a school night, he said he never went to bed before midnight, so why did he have to be home so early. He insisted that Sean’s parents would be there, that no one was leaving to go anywhere else, and that he hated that she didn’t trust him.
    Then Lee walked in, all sandy-haired and handsome, long-legged and oh so smooth, and with a genial smile asked what the argument was about.
    Annoyed at her husband for being late without a call, for givingher cause to wonder where he was all the time and then showing up with that innocent smile, she cut a slice of lasagna, shoved it onto a plate, and pushed back from the table to heat it in the microwave. The conversation behind her was increasingly lively, which annoyed her all the more. She was the one who spent her days doing things for and with the children. It was unfair that they were so obviously pleased to see Lee.
    To his credit, he was good when he was with them. He listened and teased and