Adams took Claire by the elbow. “Let’s go grab a drink.”

“Oh,” Claire said. “I don’t know . . .”

“Claire?”

This was Lock’s voice. Claire turned too eagerly.

“Do you want to join Isabelle and me at Twenty-one Federal?” he said. “We’re going right now, for dinner.”

Did Claire want to go to Twenty-one Federal with Lock and Isabelle? God, no! It would turn into an uncomfortable extension of the meeting—or it would be Lock encouraging Claire and Isabelle to get to know each other. Claire would rather go out and belt back a couple of stiff drinks with Adams and the rest of the committee. But she didn’t want to turn Lock down. What if he took it as a rejection? Maybe she and Lock would outlast Isabelle; maybe they would return to the office alone or drive somewhere in Lock’s car. If she said no to him now, when would she see him again? Would he call her at home? Or would she have to create an excuse to swing by the office? If she swung by during the day, Gavin would be around. But what reason could she possibly fabricate to stop by at night?

“Come out for a drink!” This was Tessa calling across the room. “We’ll go to Water Street, okay, Adams? We’ll meet you there.”

“Okay,” Adams said. “Claire?”

“Have you eaten?” Lock asked.

Claire felt like she was being pecked at by chickens. But why? She could either go for drinks with Adams, Tessa, and the gang, or she could go to dinner with Lock and Isabelle. The fact was, she could have stood there all night deliberating and still not have come up with the answer, which proved to Claire only one thing: she was losing her mind.

“I ate earlier,” she said to Lock, though this was, of course, a lie. Or a partial lie: at dinner with the kids, she had eaten the two puckered ends of Shea’s hot dog. “I should really get home. The baby doesn’t do well without me.”

“Come out, just for one drink,” Adams said.

Claire put on her coat. She was finding it hard to breathe here in the Elijah Baker House. She felt like she was wearing a whalebone corset.

“Next time,” she said. She faced Isabelle and Lock and gave them a (believable?) smile, shook Isabelle’s hand, and said, “Thanks for running the meeting. You have my e-mail, right? Well, if not, Lock has it. He’ll give it to you. Or you can call me. I have to go. I’ll see everybody later, okay?” Claire wedged her way past Lock and Isabelle—who were looking at her as if she was nuts, which she was—and then around the table, jingling her keys. She meant it: she was leaving.

When she finally made it out onto the cool street, she could almost hear the skin on her face hissssssssss, the way a hot mold hissed when she dropped it into the water basin.

She took her cell phone out and called Jason’s cell phone. He answered on the first ring, in a whisper. “Hey, baby.”

She was so happy to hear his voice, she nearly wept. “Hey,” she said. “I’m on my way home.”

CHAPTER FIVE

She Surprises Herself

Claire slept with Lock for the first time a week later.

After the meeting with Isabelle French and the committee, Claire walked away thinking, I am done with Lock Dixon. It was all adolescent nonsense, anyway, and what were they doing, two reasonable, married adults? Claire climbed in bed with Jason and thought, I am happy here. I am happy! That Lock Dixon had showed an interest in her was flattering and would be left at that.

How to explain what happened? Claire had always thought of adultery as a country she either wasn’t brave enough or didn’t want to visit—until someone handed her a passport and a ticket, and suddenly she was on her way. Lock called Claire on her cell phone, which he had never done before. She was driving home from dropping the kids off at school; she had only Zack in the car and he was drifting off to sleep. Claire was so certain it was Siobhan on the phone that she picked it up without checking the display and said, somewhat glumly (because she wasn’t exactly giddy about giving up Lock; in fact, it left her feeling deflated), “Hey.”

“Claire?”

It was him. She was flustered. She couldn’t later remember what he had said—something to the effect that he knew she’d found the meeting difficult, it would get easier, Isabelle would loosen up, she had been nervous and was going through the wringer with the divorce.

Okay, Claire said. Right, I could tell. Whatever, it was fine.

And then, after what seemed like a significant pause, Lock said, Would you mind stopping by the office tonight?

Tonight?

Are you busy?

No, she said. Well, yes, always busy, but I can come in. Swing by.

Great, he said.

Then there was silence. This was the time for Claire to renege, but she didn’t. She could “swing by” the office—it sounded both casual and proper. He had something to give her, there was something for her to sign, proofread, consider. But she did not ask what it was.

Okay, she said finally. I’ll see you tonight.

See you tonight, he said.

Claire waited until Jason got home from work to tell him.

“I have a meeting tonight.”

“Jesus, Claire!”

“I know, I’m sorry. It should be short.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jason said. “Why can’t you meet during the day when the kids are at school and Pan is working? Why does it always have to be at night?”

“Sorry,” Claire said. “It will be quick. I’ll be back by nine.”