Ransom

Peter saw the lights go on in the kitchen, and he imagined her cooking dinner for them. He had seen both Ashley and Will by then, but hadn't seen Sam yet. He remembered him from the photograph as being a smiling, redheaded little boy. Late that night, he saw her standing by the window in her bedroom. He watched her with binoculars, and saw that she was crying. She just stood there with tears rolling down her cheeks in her nightgown, and then she turned and walked away. It was a strange feeling, watching her like that. He kept getting glimpses into their life. The girl in the ballet leotard, the boy she hugged after he won his lacrosse game, and the tears running down her cheeks as she stood in her bedroom window, crying for her husband probably. It was two in the morning when Peter drove away. The house was dark, and had been for three hours. He realized now he didn't need to stay that late, but these were all things he needed to learn about them.

He was back the next morning at seven o'clock. Nothing happened until nearly eight. He couldn't see any activity in the kitchen, because he couldn't tell if she'd turned the lights on. That side of the house was lit by morning sun, and at ten to eight she came flying out. She turned to talk to someone in the hallway behind her, and the ballerina came out dragging a heavy bag. The lacrosse player helped her with it, and then walked to the garage for his own car. The door to the house was still standing open, and Fernanda was looking impatiently toward it, and finally the youngest one came out. And as Peter sat watching him, he couldn't suppress a smile. Sam was wearing a bright red T-shirt with a fire engine on his back, with navy corduroy pants and red high-top sneakers, and he was singing at the top of his lungs, while his mother laughed and waved him to the car. He got into the back seat, because his sister was in the front seat, with the bag on her lap. And when they got to school, with Peter in the traffic behind them, Fernanda helped her out. He couldn't imagine what was in the bag as she dragged it up the steps. Sam bounced into school behind her like a puppy, and turned with a grin to wave at his mom, as she stood there for a minute, blew him a kiss, waved, and got back in the car. She waited until he'd gone inside before she drove away.

She drove to Laurel Village to the grocery store then, and pushed a cart around for a while, reading labels, and checking produce before she put it in the cart. She bought a lot of kid food, cereals and cookies and snacks, half a dozen steaks, and at the counter where they sold flowers, she stopped and looked at them, as though tempted to buy them, and then rolled past, looking sad. Peter could have stayed in the car, but he had decided to follow her, to get a better sense of who she was. And as he watched her, he found himself fascinated by her. She was the epitome of the perfect mom, in his eyes. All she did and all she thought about and all she bought seemed to be about and for her kids. He stood behind her in the check-out line as she picked up a magazine, glanced at it, and put it back. He was impressed by how simply dressed she was. No one would have thought for a minute that her husband had left her half a billion dollars. She was wearing a pink T-shirt, jeans, and clogs, and she looked like a kid herself. She turned to look at him, as they both waited, and unexpectedly she smiled at him. He looked immaculate in a new blue button-down shirt, loafers, and khaki pants. He looked like all the men she'd grown up with, or friends of Allan's. He was tall and good-looking and blond, and he knew from things he'd read about her now that he was only six months younger than she. They were virtually the same age. They had both gone to good colleges. She had gone to Stanford, and he had gone to Duke. He had gone to graduate school, while she married and had babies. And their kids were almost the same age. Sam was six, and Isabelle and Heather were eight and nine. She looked a little like Janet, but prettier, and more than he realized, he looked like Allan with blond hair. She had noticed it when she put back the magazine, and then stared at him. And when she dropped a roll of paper towels, while putting them on the check-out stand, he picked them up and handed them to her.