Silver Girl by Elin Hilderbrand Read Free Book Online

would put Meredith right back at her usual table at Rinaldo’s, next to Freddy.
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure.” Meredith squinted out at the water. She saw a sleek, black head out about twenty yards. “Do you have seals?”
    “That’s Harold,” Connie said. “Our seal. He’s always here.”
    Meredith watched Harold swim through the breaking waves, then she noticed Connie’s downcast eyes.
    “Are you okay?” Meredith asked.
    Connie took a sip of her wine and nodded, but her eyes were shining.
Our seal:
she was thinking about Wolf. Meredith wanted to take Connie’s hand, but she wasn’t sure how that kind of gesture would be received.
    Connie sniffed. “Tell me something.”
    “What?” Meredith said.
    “I don’t know. Anything,” Connie said. “We have to start somewhere.”
    Instinctively, Meredith checked her wrist. For her birthday in October, Freddy had given her a tiger-striped Cartier watch, but Meredith had been required to leave behind any personal effects purchased in the past twelve months worth more than three hundred dollars. She said, “Well, as we speak, Freddy is on the bus for Butner. He’ll get there at ten o’clock tonight.”
    “Jesus,” Connie said.
    “What he did was awful,” Meredith said. She swallowed, and wished for that wine, but she took a sip of ice water instead. Her glass of ice water had a paper-thin slice of lemon in it. Things at Connie’s house were nice like that. What had Meredith done to deserve this? Freddy was, at that very moment, on some bus to North Carolina, his hands and feet shackled in heavy iron cuffs. The bus driver probably stopped for bathroom breaks every four hours or so. If Freddy couldn’t hold it, he would wet himself, and the other prisoners would love that. Meredith tensed with worry, as she might have for one of her children. Freddy suffered from a weak bladder. Recently, Meredith wondered if this had been a side effect from carrying around so much stress, fear, and guilt. Maybe now that he’d confessed, his bladder was sturdier. “I went to see him in jail.”
    “I know,” Connie said. “I saw it on TV. I mean, I saw you headed down there.”
    “It was a disaster,” Meredith said. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have gone. But I wanted to see him.”
    After the police hauled Freddy away on the afternoon of December 8, Meredith had found herself thinking of him in the past tense, as though he were dead—but he was alive, only a few miles away at the Metropolitan Correctional Center, which was connected to the federal courthouse by an underground tunnel. Meredith could go visit him. But should she? As the weeks passed, she went back and forth on this question. Absolutely not. But yes, she had to; there were so many things to ask. She wasn’t sure how it would look to the rest of the world. She couldn’t decide. She asked her attorneys.
    “Should I go see Freddy in jail?” she said. “Or should I follow my sons’ example and cut him out of my life?”
    They stumbled over each other trying to answer. Dev, she could tell, wanted her to forsake the old man.
What can he do for you now? He’s ruined you along with everyone else.
Burt, on the other hand, was more orthodox.
    “I’m not your publicist,” Burt said. “I’m your attorney. So it’s my job to tell you that you have a legal right to visit your husband.” He handed her a sheet of paper. “Visiting hours are Mondays between nine and eleven. The visit can last up to an hour.”
    “Can I bring him anything? What does he need?”
    Burt cleared his throat. “They’re pretty strict about what will make it through security down there.” The way he said this sounded vague. It sounded as if there were pages and pages of regulations, but Burt had yet to grow familiar with them. Had Burt ever
had
a client in jail before? Meredith wouldn’t embarrass him by asking point-blank. “Quarters are good.”
    “Quarters?”
    “Rolls of quarters,” Burt said. “For the