The Woman Next Door by Barbara Delinsky Read Free Book Online

Ben.
    Then again, not hard to believe at all. Gretchen was barely half Ben’s age and the total antithesis of June, but he had needed a drastic change to pull him from his grief.
    The neighborhood men were sympathetic. “You can see she idolizes him,” said Russ Lange, the romantic. “Any man would love that.”
    Leland Cotter, the dot-com chief, was more blunt. “What’s not to love? She’s a looker.”
    Graham suggested that Ben loved her energy. “She has him traveling and hiking and playing tennis. He and June led a quieter life. Gretchen opens new doors.”
    The neighborhood women were less generous. As far as they were concerned, the Tannenwald marriage was about two things: sex for Ben and money for Gretchen.
    Of course, that didn’t explain why Gretchen was hanging around without Ben. Amanda had thought she would sell the house, take the money, and run. But here she was, wearing a short, swingy dress that made her look even younger than thirty-two.
    Actually, Amanda decided with a start, the dress made her look pregnant.
    Unsettled by that, she twisted around to look out the rear window. It was a minute before the light caught Gretchen’s body in profile again, and there it was, something that did indeed look like a belly—which was a curious prospect. Ben had been gone a year, too long to be part of it, and Gretchen had been a virtual shut-in since his death. She didn’t date; surely they would have noticed. To Amanda’s knowledge, the only men who had been in the house for any period of time were the plumber, the carpenter, and the electrician—and, on one mission or another, Russ Lange, Lee Cotter, and Graham O’Leary

Chapter Two
    Amanda was twisted around, looking out the back window of her car, when Graham’s green pickup came into view. Heart leaping, she forgot about Gretchen and climbed from the car.
    He drove typically loose, with one hand on the steering wheel, the other out the window. When she had first met him, the car had been a Mustang convertible, and he had looked so cool with the wind in his hair that she had fallen hard for that, too. Watching him now, she felt a glimmer of the old excitement, the old yearning. Then she remembered what it was that she had to say.
    He slowed as he approached and raised his left hand in greeting to Gretchen, who turned briefly. Then he pulled into the driveway beside Amanda.
    Leaving her car door open, she walked around to his truck. His eyes held hers the whole way, asking, then knowing. Visibly deflated, he sank against the back of the seat.
    “You got your period.”
    She was grateful not to have to say the damning words herself. “Half an hour ago.”
    “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just spotting.”
    She shook her head. What was going on wasn’t spotting. Besides, the cramps in her belly had a familiar feel.
    “Maybe you should try a test.”
    “I’d have to miss my period for a test to work.”
    He hung his head. Then he dropped it back, sighed wearily, andopened the door of the truck. Eyes filling with tears, Amanda turned away and went for her things. By the time she had closed the car door and gone up the flagstone walk to the breezeway between the house and garage, Graham was already there, slouched against a pillar, looking out at the backyard. He hadn’t only designed the landscape here, he had done the planting himself, right down to the very last shrub, and the care showed. Even this early in the season, the yard was a dozen different shades of green.
    Their yard was the envy of the neighbors—actually the envy of the whole town—but Amanda suspected he saw none of it now. His voice held defeat. “I thought it would take this time. I thought for sure it would.”
    Amanda leaned against another of the pillars. “So did I. So did the doctor. We had the timing down pat.”
    “What is the problem?” he asked in frustration.
    Clenching her arms to her chest, she said, “I don’t know. There were eight eggs. That’s two more than