The Guest Cottage Read Free Page A

thing, talking to a child psychologist about his four-year-old son? In a way, he felt he was betraying Leo; he knew at Leo’s preschool the teachers told the children not to “tattle.” But Trevor was a parent, the only parent, and he was concerned.
    Before Trevor could change his mind, the receptionist showed him into Dr. Warren’s office. Dr. Warren rose to shake his hand. A pleasant older man, he wore a suit but no tie, which oddly made Trevor feel more comfortable, less
judged.
Trevor ran his computer business from his home and only wore suits when he had face meetings with certain clients.
    The therapist gestured to a chair. “How may I help you?”
    “It’s about my son,” Trevor said, and all at once he was on the verge of tears. “Leo. Leo is four. He’s a really good little guy. But his mother, my wife, Tallulah…” Trevor took a deep breath. “She died in November.”
    “I’m so sorry. Was she ill?”
    Trevor hesitated. “It’s all confidential here, right?”
    “Of course.”
    “I wouldn’t want Leo to know. He wouldn’t understand. And I don’t want to disrespect Tallulah. She was an actress. She got a lot of roles in local Boston theaters, and in suburban ones, too. She loved acting. Her whole world was acting. When I first met her, she warned me, she told me, ‘The only thing you need to know about me is that I’m an actress.’ ”
    Trevor paused, remembering when he met Tallulah at a party in Cambridge. She took his breath away. Tallulah had silky red hair that fell in a curtain past her shoulders and was parted to drape enticingly over one eye. She had a figure that wouldn’t quit. She had a deep, husky voice that she later told him she had achieved by smoking, talking, and singing when she had a cold so that her vocal cords were slightly damaged. That was proof, she reminded him, that all she cared about was being an actress.
    “I’m warning you,” she’d said. “Don’t get serious about me.”
    Of course Trevor, being the kind of not-arrogant but pretty damn self-confident guy he was, took Tallulah’s words as a challenge. Trevor had been twenty-four years old then, a good-looking, clever, laid-back guy who pretty much always got what he wanted. All his life, things had come easy for him: good grades, high school quarterback, any girl he wanted, entrance to MIT, and a computer business that kept him busy and rich. Tallulah made their relationship even more stimulating by not responding to his charms as easily as most women did. He had to pursue her. That was kind of fun. He didn’t understand her and he enjoyed a puzzle. So his brain was as attracted to Tallulah as his body. Okay, maybe not quite as much as his body.
    How arrogant he’d been back then! How young!
    “Mr. Black?” Dr. Warren said quietly, pulling Trevor out of his reverie.
    Trevor cleared his throat. “Okay. Okay, here it is. Tallulah never was into the whole housewife/mommy bit. Still, she was Leo’s mommy. She was my wife. We loved her, and even though she was unusual—demanding, not nurturing, I guess you could say—we all made it work.” This was harder than Trevor had known it would be, this talking business.
    “How did she die?” Dr. Warren asked.
    “Um. Tallulah, you see, wasn’t around a lot normally. Rehearsals, auditions, buying clothes—I don’t know, we were used to it. Recently she’d seldom been home. I thought she was at rehearsal. But then—” The memory made Trevor stumble over his words. “In November—it was morning—Leo was at preschool, the police knocked on my door—I have an apartment in Cambridge. Okay. They told me—and they were respectful—they told me Tallulah was dead. She had died of an overdose of heroin she’d been smoking at the apartment of another actor. Tallulah had always said that Wilhelm was one of the most gifted actors of their generation. But, um, the thing is, both Tallulah and Wilhelm were naked when their bodies were found.”
    “How