Page 112 of Happy Wife

“Autumn—”

“No, Nora. Do you know how many secrets I carry about the people in this town? About the Halls? Do you have any idea how many things I hear oralmosthear happen when people drink too much and it’s the end of the night? Half the time, I don’t even know if what I hear is true, but I hear it all. The affairs, the fights, the bounced checks. Do you know how much I know because I plan the parties and I’m in their houses and they talk freely because I’m basically invisible to them? I stay out of everything. I do what I have to do.”

“So where does Fritz factor in?”

“Getting involved with Fritz was a mistake. A transgression I’d prefer to keep to myself. We both stayed too late at a party one night.” She sighs. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he can be really charming sometimes.” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “I understand how messy it sounds. But I try to stay out of all of it. Because these people will never be held accountable for anything they do. They hold all the cards. And I’m the only one who loses if I talk. I’d be out of a job. They all know it. Discretion is part of my livelihood. If I keep their secrets, I get to keep working.”

It always comes back to money and power with these people. I think about Andres at the club the day I met Will. The day Mia was stealing drinks, and Andres wouldn’t lift a finger to help her, for fear of losing his job. There are different rules at this altitude. The people with the money and power always have the upper hand. I hadn’t thought about how that affected Autumn. But I understand now. She couldn’t do the right thing without blowing up her own life.

I feel a pinch of empathy for her. Just a little.

And I know she’s right about the power her clientele wield, but I also know I am going to have to convince her that this time, she’s going to talk.

This time,we’llfind the ace up the sleeve.

Chapter44

Before

There are plenty of legitimate debates to be had about how much of Florida will be underwater in the next decade or more. But it always strikes me as funny how quickly people forget the ways Florida had to be doctored, polished, and propped up to be habitable in the first place. Still, no matter how much air-conditioning is pumped into this veritable swampland or how many housing developments are built, the wild nature of this place—the weather and the water and the gators and the snakes—can be tamed but never counted out. That’s why sinkholes spontaneously open up on the highways. And why, when the Interlachen Country Club was built in the 1980s, one-point-five-million yards of earth were needed to turn two hundred and seventy acres of muck into the golf course and club that stand there today.

This entire town is built on quicksand.

The hyperbole crossed my mind as I handed my keys to the valet and headed into the club.

Will had been golfing with Fritz all day. I’m not sure who initiated the outing, but I suspected it was another attempt to mend fences between the two of them. From what Will had shared lately, things were still tense, but he was doing his best to keep the peace. Which, apparently, included golfing.

“Why don’t you come up to the club after? We can meet for dinner.” He had kissed my shoulder as we sipped our coffee in the kitchen early that morning.

The club wasn’t my favorite place to eat. It was teeming with a little Lilly Pulitzer mafia of women who all disapproved of me. But I was doing my best to remember that I belonged in this world now. Interlachen was at least better than the Racquet Club. I hated ordering drinks from Andres. And it was almost impossible to resist the urge to pick up a dish towel and start wiping down loungers or offer to help whenever the pool staff started clearing drinks and plates.

I’m not an asshole. I swear I didn’t become one of them.

I agreed to head up to the club around six and wait for Will at the pool bar. There was zero chance in hell I’d dress up to sit with the vipers in the main dining room. But it was a nice night to eat outside. A calm breeze blew among the alfresco tables and chairs.

I ordered an Arnold Palmer and kept my sunglasses on so that I could people-watch. But before my drink arrived, Fritz sidled up to the table. He looked freshly showered, his hair still wet and combed back. But there was a hint of sweat on his brow. Maybe it was the humidity, though day-drinking on the course for hours seemed a more likely culprit. He dabbed at his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief and then tucked the fabric square back in his pocket.

“Hey, Nora.” His face lit up with that politician’s smile.

I stood and gave him a hug with one, tentative arm. Polite but distant. “It’s good to see you, Fritz.”

Oh, hell. Did Will invite him to join us for dinner?

The server appeared with my drink and offered to take an order for Fritz.

“Thank you kindly.” He waved her off. “But I can’t stay.”

I feigned disappointment.

“Gigi’s got dinner reservations for us,” he explained. “Will’s still getting cleaned up in the locker room, but I told him I’d keep you company while you wait.”

Yippee.

“Well, that was very kind of you.”

“I’m afraid it was a little selfish on my part. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

What on God’s green earth could Fritz Hall want to talk to me about? Maybe it’s about Will’s birthday party. Maybe he wants to give a thirty-minute oration once everyone’s gathered.