Honeymoon

Chapter 10

A TALL GLASS of water and some aspirin—a little preventive medicine in the wake of her after-dinner drinks with Elaine and Allison. Nora never got drunk, abhorring the idea of ever surrendering control. But thanks to the high spirits and good company of Elaine and Allison, she had gotten a nice buzz on.

Two glasses of water, two aspirin.

Then she changed into her favorite cotton pajamas and pulled out the bottom drawer of her oversize dresser. Buried beneath several cashmere sweaters from Polo was a photo album.

Nora closed the drawer and turned off all the lights, save for the lamp on her nightstand. She climbed into bed and opened the album to the first page.

“Where it all began,” she whispered to herself.

The pictures were arranged chronologically, a photographic time line of her relationship with the first love of her life, the man she called Dr. Tom. Their very first weekend away together in the Berkshires; a concert at Tanglewood; shots of them in their suite at the Gables Inn in Lenox.

On the next page was a medical conference he took her to in Phoenix. They had stayed at the Biltmore, one of her favorites, but only if they put you in the main building.

After that were some candids from the wedding in the Conservatory Tent at the New York Botanical Garden.

Those pages were followed by their honeymoon down in Nevis. Glorious, one of the best weeks of her life.

In between were memories along the way—parties, dinners, funny faces mugging for the camera. Nora touching her tongue to her nose. Tom curling his upper lip like Elvis. Or was that supposed to be Bill Clinton?

Then the pictures stopped.

Instead, there were clippings.

The last pages of the album were filled with nothing but newspaper items. The various stories and the obituary—tinted yellow now from the passage of time. Nora had kept them all.

TOP MANHATTAN DOC DIES IN MEDICAL MIX-UP, wrote the New York Post. MD A VICTIM OF HIS OWN MEDICINE, declared the Daily News. As for the New York Times there was no hyperbole. Just a simple obituary with a matter-of-fact heading: DR. TOM HOLLIS, NOTED CARDIOLOGIST, DEAD AT 42.

Nora closed the album and lay in bed alone with her thoughts about Tom and what had happened. The beginning of everything, really: the start of her life. Nora’s thoughts then turned naturally to Connor and Jeffrey. She glanced down at her left hand, which was sporting neither ring at the moment. She knew she had a decision to make.

Instinctively, Nora began compiling a mental list. Orderly and concise. All the things she loved about being with one versus the other.

Connor vs. Jeffrey.

They were both so much fun. They made her laugh, made her feel special. And there was certainly no denying that they were wonderful in bed—or wherever else they chose to have sex. They were tall, in wonderful shape, handsome as film stars. No, actually, they were more handsome than the film stars she knew.

The fact was, Nora loved being with Connor and Jeffrey equally. Which made her decision that much harder.

Which one was she going to kill?

First.