Regrets Only Read Free Page B

remained a family pet. They were majestic, loyal animals that had eaten carrots from his hand for as long as he could remember. Although never an equestrian himself, he’d always liked the feeling of their soft lips flapping against his extended palm. He hoped his shot wouldn’t startle them.
    He stared up at the waning crescent moon, illuminating a scattering of cirrus clouds in the dark sky. Aside from the stir of the horses, and the rustle of small animals, the night was still. He ran his fingers along the chamber of the .38 caliber gun, then cupped its steel snub nose in one palm while he gripped the wooden handle in the other. He’d gone to great lengths to procure this $500 weapon for which he’d paid more than a thousand. It had taken considerable coaxing and a substantial bribe, but eventually the bearded shop owner in his Orvis fishing vest had acquiesced, overlooking the birth date on his license and falsifying the age on the permit application. For an envelope of cash, he’d gone from sixteen to twenty-six with the flick of a ballpoint pen. So much for gun control in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
    He squeezed the trigger, hearing nothing but a loud snap in the empty chamber. He’d yet to load his bullet of choice, the 158-grain lead semiwadcutter, which, according to the article he’d read, was designed to ensure maximum penetration. Given the location of his shot, he could sacrifice expansion. He shivered and then squeezed again. Snap.
    Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of his breathing and felt his heart pounding in his chest. For the first time he wondered who would find him. At least it wouldn’t be Avery, his twin sister. Protecting her was the only thing that mattered to him, but he needn’t worry. She’d returned to boarding school the day before. Her Christmas break was over and he and his mother had driven her back to Garrison Forest last Sunday in time to make the 7:00 p.m. check-in.
    So the discovery of his body would undoubtedly be made by one of his parents, if he could call them that, and that might not happen until the light of morning. They’d left shortly before seven for a dinner party in the neighboring town of Villanova. His mother had worn a gray gabardine pantsuit and a fur jacket, a Christmas gift from her husband. From his bedroom window, he’d watched his father open the passenger-side door for her, lighting the leather interior of the Lexus. Before settling in her seat and affixing her seat belt, she pulled down the visor to check herself in the mirror and apply just a touch more Garnet Shimmer to her thin lips. Foster had stared at the car lights until the dark green sedan disappeared around the bend in the long driveway.
    By now they would be embroiled in the festivities at the home of Bonnie and Hugh Pepper, their close friends. Although he’d never been to one of what his mother termed their “casual” dinners, he imagined that Mrs. Pepper didn’t really know the meaning of that word. Just look at the Christmas party she’d thrown less than a month before for the best that Main Line society had to offer and their teenage offspring. The big stone house had bowed wreaths hanging in every lighted window. An enormous blue spruce adorned with electric candles and Victorian ornaments filled the entryway. His family—yes, he could say that now, now that the relationship was about to end—had wandered through room after welcoming room, engaging in snippets of jovial conversation, admiring the many roaring fireplaces, eating scallops wrapped in bacon and celery with foie gras. In front of the ebony Steinway his mother had stood arm in arm with his father singing Christmas carols.
Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel.
Standing back from the crowd, Avery had put her arm around his shoulder. “It’s Christmas. I’m home for three whole weeks. Your opening is next week. Can’t you be happy?”
    “Can’t you?” he’d asked instead of