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The Lies I Tell(73)

Author:Julie Clark

My mind flashes back to my grandmother’s engagement ring. How long it took me to notice it had gone missing, and how hard Scott argued that the house cleaner must have taken it before finally admitting he’d sold it to cover a debt.

“I’m overstepping. I’m sorry,” she says. “But if you want, I know a guy in the diamond district downtown. He can take a look at it just to make sure.”

I take a bite of pie, but I can barely taste it, imagining the kind of guy Meg might have, and how quickly he would swap the stone out himself. “I don’t ever take it off,” I tell her. Though that’s not exactly true. I take it off to go to the gym. I take it off when I get a manicure. There have been plenty of times I’ve taken the ring off, where Scott could have done something with it.

“I don’t want to make things worse,” Meg continues. “But I also want you to be careful. If your instincts are telling you something’s off, you should listen to them.”

“You’re right,” I tell her. “But I don’t think it’s Scott.”

Meg nods, accepting my words, and slips a piece of pie into her mouth and chews. Finally, she says, “Well, I guess that’s good then.”

***

When I get home, I creep into the house, careful not to wake Scott, and go straight to his computer, unable to fully discard Meg’s suspicions until I can see for myself. A long list of websites come up, but they’re all legitimate, and none of them are the bank. Then I check his phone, where again I find nothing that indicates he’d been the one accessing my account. I feel a thread of relief, followed by a wave of exhaustion, wondering if there will ever be a time when I won’t have to check up on him. If there will ever be a time Scott isn’t the person my mind always leaps to first.

I hear him shift in bed and realize how careless I’ve been. I ignored his warnings, believing I could handle Meg. If her strategy is to foster doubt in my relationship with Scott, to grow the divide between us so wide I start to question him, it’s working.

But I’m still in control. I know who Meg is and what she’s doing. My account is locked down. Her attempt failed.

I shrug out of Meg’s coat and log back in to my email, wanting to double-check the time stamp on the attempt. An email from Jenna sits at the top, subject line reading Reading, PA.

Curious, I click on it.

My researcher found a DBA under the business name Life Design by Melody, and the name Melody Wilde attached to it. Backtracking with the state of Pennsylvania showed that the DBA was filed by Meg Williams. But here’s the thing…there’s a house involved. That’s how my researcher found her. It was sold to Meg’s company for $20,000. I don’t know much about Pennsylvania real estate, but that’s not a lot of money.

I sit back in my chair, thinking. A DBA—also known as a fictitious business name—and a property transfer for well under market value. And then my mind flies to Meg’s mystery buyers. Maybe they’re not industry people, committed to protecting their privacy, or collaborators working alongside Meg. Maybe they’re Meg herself.

Two Years Ago

Reading, Pennsylvania

Meg

Renata’s house was two stories with leaded windows that, upon closer inspection, needed the trim refreshed. As I walked up a path lined with hurricane lamps, music and laughter floated out, the September evening air chilly.

I stood on the porch and straightened my skirt. No one inside knew that the clothes I wore had been purchased a few weeks ago at a consignment store in Philadelphia, or that the name on the solitary business card tucked into my otherwise empty purse wasn’t my real one. I’d laid the groundwork, going back weeks, layer after layer, carefully constructing my backstory so that this moment—this party—would go exactly as planned.

The people inside were expecting a woman named Melody Wilde—recently divorced, home decorator and life coach to New York City celebrities. The person responsible for Renata’s miraculous family-room makeover, which was nothing more than a couple sample books purchased online, a high-end upholsterer subsidized with my own money to give the illusion of a steep discount, and a throwaway comment about Sarah Jessica Parker.

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