I don’t think I closed my eyes all night. Instead I lay in bed, my shoulder brushing against Alex, staring into the dark, remembering, always remembering. Now, wrapped in a blue and white linen robe, and with my hair twisted into a bun, I was trying to appear calm and collected as I sipped my coffee. Across the table, impeccably dressed as always in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and figured blue and red tie, Alex was rushing through the slice of toast and mug of coffee that was his everyday breakfast.
My suggestion that, while the house was beautiful, I would want to be able to completely redecorate it before we moved in had met with resistance from Alex. “Ceil, I know it was probably insanity to buy the house without consulting you, but it was exactly the kind of place we both had in mind. You had agreed to the area. We talked about Peapack or Basking Ridge, and Mendham is only five or ten minutes from both of them. It’s an upscale town, convenient to New York, and, besides the fact the firm is moving me to New Jersey, the added plus is that I can get in some early morning rides. Central Park just doesn’t do it for me. And I want to teach you how to ride. You said you’d enjoy taking lessons.”
I studied my husband. His expression was both contrite and pleading. He was right. This apartment really was too small for the three of us. Alex had given up so much when we married. His spacious apartment in SoHo had included a large study, with room for his splendid sound system and even a grand piano. The piano was now in storage. Alex had a natural gift for music, and thoroughly enjoyed playing. I know he misses that freedom. He’s worked hard to accomplish all he has. Though a distant cousin of my late husband, who himself had come from wealth, Alex was decidedly a “poor relation.” I knew how proud he was to be able to buy this new house.
“You’ve been saying that you want to get back to decorating,” Alex reminded me. “Once you’re settled, there’d be plenty of opportunity for that, especially in Mendham. There’s a lot of money there, and plenty of big houses being built. Please give it a try, for me, Ceil. You have a standing offer from the people next door to purchase this apartment at a nice profit to you, you know that.”
He came around the table and put his arms around me. “Please.”
I hadn’t heard Jack come into the dining room. “I like the house, too, Mom,” he piped up. “Alex is going to buy me my own pony when we move there.”
I looked at my husband and son. “It looks as though we have a new home,” I said, trying to smile. Alex is desperate to have more space, I thought. He loves the idea of being near the riding club. Eventually I’ll find a different house in one of the other towns. It won’t be hard to persuade him to move. He did admit that it was a mistake to buy without consulting me, after all.
One month later the moving van was pulling away from 895 Fifth Avenue and heading for the Lincoln Tunnel. Its destination was One Old Mill Lane, Mendham, New Jersey.
MARY HIGGINS CLARK is the author of thirty-one worldwide bestsellers. There are more than seventy million copies of her books in print. She lives in Saddle River, New Jersey.
BY MARY HIGGINS CLARK
Nighttime Is My Time
The Second Time Around
Kitchen Privileges
Mount Vernon Love Story
Silent Night/All Through the Night
Daddy’s Little Girl
On the Street Where You Live
Before I Say Good-bye
We’ll Meet Again
All Through the Night
You Belong to Me
Pretend You Don’t See Her
My Gal Sunday
Moonlight Becomes You
Silent Night
Let Me Call You Sweetheart
The Lottery Winner
Remember Me
I’ll Be Seeing You
All Around the Town
Loves Music, Loves to Dance
The Anastasia Syndrome and Other Stories
While My Pretty One Sleeps
Weep No More, My Lady
Stillwatch
A Cry in the Night
The Cradle Will Fall
A Stranger Is Watching
Where Are the Children?
BY MARY HIGGINS CLARK AND CAROL HIGGINS CLARK
He Sees You When You’re Sleeping
Deck the Halls
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Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Mary Higgins Clark
Originally published in hardcover in 2004 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster, Inc., 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN 0-7434-1263-X
ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-1263-6 (print)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-0635-8 (eBook)
Cover design by Jackie Seow
Front cover photo by Gary Isaacs/Photonica
Mary Higgins Clark, Nighttime Is My Time
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