The Stranger by Harlan Coben Page A

explained. But the crackle turned more into mania as time passed. The crackle was fun and spontaneous, but the unpredictability wore his father down, aged him. There were great ups, but they were eventually decimated by the growing number of great downs. Adam did not make that mistake. Life is a series of reactions. His reaction to the mistake of his father was to marry awoman he considered steady, consistent, controlled, as though people were just that simple.
    â€œTalk to me,” Adam said.
    â€œWhat makes you think I faked the pregnancy?”
    â€œThe Visa charge to Novelty Funsy,” he said. “You told me it was for school decorations. It wasn’t. It’s a billing name for Fake-A-Pregnancy.com.”
    She looked confused now. “I don’t understand. What made you go through a charge from two years ago?”
    â€œIt’s not important.”
    â€œIt is to me. You didn’t casually decide to start checking old bills.”
    â€œDid you do it, Corinne?”
    Her gaze was down on the granite top of the island. Corinne had taken forever to find the exact shade of granite, finally finding something called Ontario Brown. She spotted some dried debris and started working it free with her fingernail.
    â€œCorinne?”
    â€œDo you remember when I had two school periods off during lunch?”
    The change of subject threw him for a moment. “What about it?”
    The debris came loose. Corinne stopped. “It was the only time in my teaching career I had that big of a time window. I got permission to go off school grounds for lunch.”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œI used to go to that café in Bookends. They made a great panini sandwich. I’d get one and a glass of homemade iced tea or a coffee. I’d sit at this corner table and read a book.” A small smile came to her face. “It was bliss.”
    Adam nodded. “Great story, Corinne.”
    â€œDon’t be sarcastic.”
    â€œNo, no, seriously, it’s gripping and so relevant. I mean, I’m asking you to tell me about faking a pregnancy, but really this story is much better. What kind of panini was your favorite, anyway? I like the turkey and swiss myself.”
    She closed her eyes. “You’ve always used sarcasm as a defense mechanism.”
    â€œOh, right, and you’ve always been great with timing. Like now, Corinne. Now is the time to psychoanalyze me.”
    There was a pleading in her voice now. “I’m trying to tell you something, okay?”
    He shrugged. “So tell me.”
    She took a few seconds to gather herself before she began speaking again. When she did, her voice had a far-off quality to it. “I’d go to Bookends pretty much every day, and after a while, you become, I don’t know, a regular. The same people would be there all the time. It was like a community. Or like
Cheers
. There was Jerry, who was unemployed. And Eddie was an outpatient at Bergen Pines. Debbie would bring her laptop and write—”
    â€œCorinne . . .”
    She held up her hand. “And then there was Suzanne, who was, like, eight months pregnant.”
    Silence.
    Corinne turned behind her. “Where’s that bottle of wine?”
    â€œI don’t see where you’re going with this.”
    â€œI just need some more wine.”
    â€œI put it in the cabinet above the sink.”
    She headed over to it, opened the door, and snatched out thebottle. Corinne grabbed her glass and started to pour. “Suzanne Hope was maybe twenty-five years old. It was her first baby. You know how young mothers-to-be are—all glowing and over-the-top happy, like they’re the first people to ever get pregnant. Suzanne was really nice. We all talked to her about the pregnancy and the baby. You know. She’d tell us about her prenatal vitamins. She ran names by us. She didn’t want to know if it was a boy or girl. She wanted to be