The Other Woman. Brenda Novak
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Hudson.
Pausing from his work, Keith ran his eyes over the simple coral-colored linen dress she’d worn for her date this evening. “You’re back awfully early.”
Liz didn’t want to admit that her encounter with Senator Holbrook’s new aide had been a flop, so she shrugged off the comment. “I’m tired.”
“You cut the evening short?”
She met his gaze. Dating was relatively new to her. Only in the past six months had she felt sufficiently recovered from her divorce to meet other men. “We’d already had dinner.” Part of it, anyway, she added to herself.
“So you didn’t like him.”
Her ex-husband’s apparent relief made her supremely conscious of how much Keith seemed to want her back. Sometimes she was tempted to relent, to do what she could to rebuild their relationship. With his chiseled features, deep brown eyes and dark blond hair, he’d always appealed to her on a physical level. He appealed to her in a lot of other ways, as well. Memories of better days occasionally teased her into wondering if she could reclaim what they’d once had.
But then she remembered that he’d loved Reenie more—that he’d been willing to give up Liz and their two children if it meant he could keep his other wife—and she couldn’t summon the trust. With Keith, she’d always be second best. He was only hoping to get back with her because Reenie was no longer available.
“I liked him fine,” she lied.
He wiped his hands on a pair of faded, holey jeans. “Garth acts as if Hudson’s the most brilliant man in the world.”
He was a Harvard graduate, which was impressive. “He’s candid and confident.”
“Do you think he’s handsome?”
She pictured the dark-haired man she’d left at the steak house. “He’s okay, I guess.”
Keith squatted to scrape the edge of his trowel against the lip of the bucket at his feet. “Reenie claims he’s one of the best-looking men she’s ever seen.”
Wanting to make sure the plumber had installed the new sink, Liz went into the small bathroom in the back corner. “Reenie’s a lot more enthusiastic about him than I am,” she called.
Evidently he heard her, because he answered right away. “Why?”
“He has a New York accent.”
“You said that as if he has an unsightly mole covering half his face. What’s wrong with an accent?”
She wasn’t sure. It was just something she’d focused on. Maybe it was easier not to find him appealing if she dwelled on the blunt, unfamiliar feel of his voice and language instead of his attractive features. “It’s pretty strong.”
“I heard he grew up in Brooklyn. What else would you expect?”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy trying out the new sink.
“What does he look like?” Keith called.
Satisfied that the sink worked, she came out of the bathroom. “Do we have to talk about Carter?”
“I’m curious,” he insisted.
“Okay, he’s tall.”
Keith flicked some plaster off his forearm and stood. “Taller than me?”
She quickly tried to compare the two. “Maybe by a couple of inches.”
“That would make him nearly six foot four,” he said, skeptically. “He’s not that tall, is he?”
Hearing the jealousy in Keith’s voice, Liz grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the dust and dirt left behind when they ripped out the old cabinets. She didn’t want to analyze Carter Hudson. Especially with her ex-husband. She had a lot to do if she hoped to open The Chocolaterie by Memorial Day. Although a candy shop had been Liz’s idea, when Mary Thornton, who’d recently opened a gift store next door, had heard about it, she’d decided to sell chocolate, too. Mary was busy building her business while Liz struggled to finish the improvements to her space.
“Is he?” Keith prompted.
“I don’t remember. He’s a big man, okay?”
“Big as in fat?”
With a sigh, she faced him. “No. Big, as in muscular. Big, as in he has broad shoulders, a well-defined chest and a flat stomach. Big, as in—”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” he grumbled, holding up a hand to stop her. “Jeez, I thought you couldn’t remember.”
“You wanted details,” she said, and could’ve given him a few more. She hadn’t mentioned that Carter had a soccer player’s build, with nice long legs and large, rugged hands. Or that, judging from the golden color of his skin, he spent a fair amount of time outdoors, which she definitely hadn’t expected from a political aide. But she’d said enough.
“Have you heard from Mica and Christopher?” she asked, changing the subject.
“No, was I supposed to check on the kids?” He wiped a bead of sweat from his temple.
“Not necessarily. I’m sure they’re fine. They love it at Reenie’s.”
“You’d know, since the two of you are such good friends,” he said flippantly.
The pique behind those words confirmed what Liz already knew. Keith resented the closeness between Liz and his other ex-wife. Liz supposed she could understand why. After having the love and attention of both women for so long, he was suddenly the odd man out, and that wasn’t likely to change. Not now that Reenie had married Liz’s brother. It probably didn’t make the situation any easier for Keith that Isaac was also the man who’d found him out and revealed his duplicity. Liz considered it ironic that, prior to Isaac’s spotting Keith at the airport catching a plane to Idaho when he was supposed to be in Arizona, Isaac hadn’t really been involved in their lives. He’d spent much of the previous eight years researching pygmy elephants in Africa. And when he was in the States, he’d lived in Chicago, where he taught biology at Chicago University. If not for that fateful visit to Liz and Keith’s home in L.A. following one of his research trips, Liz might still be married to Keith and living in California, believing it was only her husband’s job that took him away.
“Reenie and I are more than friends. She’s my sister-in-law, remember?” Liz said, using a dustpan to empty her sweeping into the wheelbarrow Keith had brought with him.
“I’m not likely to forget,” he mumbled. Dipping his trowel into a bucket of compound, he smeared more taping mixture on the wall. “Is this Carter guy planning on running for office someday?”
“I don’t know.” Liz’s mind had already shifted to what remained to be done at the shop. “I hope the other display case I ordered will be big enough.”
“You didn’t ask?” Keith said.
“About the display case?”
“Whether or not Carter Hudson is someday planning to run for office.”
Carter again. Liz propped the broom against the wall. “No, I didn’t ask. Thanks to you, we talked mostly about me.”
The hand holding the trowel stopped moving, then began to scrape along the mended Sheetrock. “What’d he want to know?”
She gathered up the ceiling tiles they’d torn down. “Like everyone else, he was curious to know how you managed to get away with having two families for so long. And how you and I could still be friends.”
“That’s none of his business,” Keith snapped.
Liz ignored his response. “But he’s not as generous as some people,” she continued. “He seems to think I’m a fool for not realizing I was being duped.”
“Then,