Page 36 of Inferno
“Manning?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he sick?”
“Not quite.” Stan kept one eye on the doorway, lest the child in question sneak up on him again. “I’ll fill you in when I see you.”
“So we’re still on for Friday afternoon?”
Stan hesitated as his mind flashed on an image of Prissy, her face contorted with pain and fury as she hurled accusations at him. Her words, and the raw anguish behind them, had haunted him for the rest of the night. Long after she fell asleep, he’d stayed awake holding her, whispering promises he wished he could keep.
His stomach churned now, coating his throat with bile and guilt.
“Stan?” the woman prompted gently. “I’d really like to see you on Friday.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes, swallowing the bitter taste of his deception. “I’ll be there.”
After dinner that evening, Manning helped Prissy clear the table while Stan and the boys headed downstairs to the basement to set up a new video game system.
Prissy was in a better mood tonight, thanks in large part to a phone call she’d received at work. Rory Kerrigan’s mother had called to inform her that Rory’s nose wasn’t broken after all, but even if it had been, it would have served him right. She’d gone on to explain her shocked disappointment at learning from the principal that her son was a bully who regularly tormented other kids at school. She’d claimed complete ignorance, even though Rory had been suspended once before for bullying.
At the end of their conversation, Mrs. Kerrigan had assured Prissy that her son had learned his lesson, and there were no hard feelings between them.
When the rest of the day passed with no concerned phone calls from any of the school board members, Prissy had breathed a huge sigh of relief before grabbing her briefcase and heading home.
She’d just playfully flicked some sudsy water at Manning’s face when the doorbell rang. Leaving her laughing son to the dishes, she went to answer the door.
She was surprised to find Manning’s classmate, Taylor, standing on the porch. The girl wore a camouflage army jacket that was several sizes too big, bright orange bellbottoms and a pair of black-and-white Converse All-Stars that had seen better days.
She smiled nervously at Prissy.“Um, hi, Dr. Wolf.Myname’s—”
“I know who you are, Taylor.” Prissy smiled warmly. “What brings you here this evening?”
The girl pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up on her nose. “Is, um, Manning here?”
“Yes, he is. Come in and I’ll get him for you.”
“Oh, I can just wait outside. I don’t want to impose—”
“You’re not imposing,” Prissy assured her, opening the door wider. “Please come inside, Taylor. I insist.”
The girl hesitated another moment, then tentatively stepped into the house and swept an admiring glance around. “You have a beautiful home,” she said.
“Why, thank you, baby.” As Prissy moved to close the door, she saw a boy’s old ten-speed bicycle lying at the end of the driveway behind the family minivan. “Is that your bike, Taylor?”
“Yes, ma’am.Well, technically, it’s my brother’s, but I’m using it while he’s away. Not that he’d be riding it if he were here anyway. Do you want me to move it from the driveway? The kickstand’sbroken,otherwise I wouldn’t have laid—”
“The bike’s just fine where it is,” Prissy gently interrupted the girl’s breathless chatter.
Closing the door, she smiled at Taylor and had a sudden flashback to how nervous she’d been the very first time she visited Stan’s home and met his grandmother, who’d lovingly welcomed her into the fold.
On impulse, Prissy reached out and smoothed back Taylor’s windblown ponytail. When the girl gave her a winsome smile, Prissy felt a sharp pang of longing for the daughter she’d never had.
“Did you say your brother’s away?” she inquired curiously.
“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor answered. “He’s in the army, stationed in Iran.”
“Really?”Prissy couldn’t help thinking of the disastrous Iran hostage crisis that had sent shockwaves through the world earlier that year when the U.S. military’s failed rescue operation had resulted in the deaths of eight American soldiers and an Iranian civilian.
