The Private Lives of Pippa Lee Read Online Free

condition she had tried to cure herself of many times; the symptoms could be painful. But she’d given up the fight long ago. She was the woman who loved Herb Lee. Oh, and many other things besides, she thought to herself as she pulled on her cotton robe the color of new leaves. Mother. Two decent, productive human beings living in the world because of me. That’s not nothing. She walked into the kitchen, squinting in the blinding light. Everything was white. Formica table, counter, tile floor, lost their edges, bled into a field of light, their perspective flattened. Shadows from the window casings threw a blue grid over the room. With her vision blurred from sleep, the effect was so dazzlingly abstract that she had to take a moment to gether bearings, and when she did she was so confused by what she saw that she questioned her own memory.
    The table had been set chaotically, plates scattered at random, as if tossed by a furious domestic. Some of them had chocolate cake on them. Others were bare. Pippa noticed something the color of peanut butter spread on one of the slices of chocolate cake. She sniffed it cautiously. It was peanut butter. Yet she distinctly remembered sponging down the table the night before. The place had been immaculate. A chill went up her spine, and she swiveled around, imagining a malevolent pair of psychotic eyes staring at her from the living room – some escaped lunatic, brandishing a dirty cake knife. Seeing no one, she went to the kitchen door, tried it. Locked. She walked around the house, checked every door, every window. All locked. No one had come in. It must have been Herb. But they had gone to bed together at eleven. Herb had fallen asleep first. She tried to imagine him getting up to let people in, after midnight, for chocolate cake and peanut butter. It was out of the question. Then how had the cake gotten there? She cleared the table, scraped plates into the garbage, and stacked them in the dishwasher. Made coffee.
    She was sitting at the table drinking a cup when Herb walked in, opened the front door, and dragged the local paper off the mat.
    â€˜So,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe you had a party and didn’t invite me.’
    â€˜What are you talking about?’ he said, putting on his reading glasses.
    â€˜You left all the plates out.’
    â€˜What plates?’
    â€˜Herb, there were six plates with chocolate cake on the table this morning. Or there were six plates. Two of them didn’t have any cake on them. One of the slices had peanut butter on it.’
    Herb sat and looked at her. ‘Have you gone stark raving mad?’ he said, laughing.
    â€˜At first I thought someone came into the house, but the doors are all locked.’ There was a pause as this sank in.
    â€˜Does anyone else have a key?’
    â€˜Well, I guess the maintenance people. And Miss Fanning.’
    â€˜The cleaning lady? She lives in New Milford. Why would she drive all the way over here for chocolate cake? We better check if anything is missing.’ Nothing was missing. Pippa called Miss Fanning and pretended she was confirming her for Monday. Then she casually asked her what she’d been up to the night before. There was a pause. ‘Bowling?’ the woman answered tentatively. Herb called the administrative offices to register a complaint. They asked if he wanted to call the police. Herb declined. ‘I suppose you could call it a victimless crime,’ he said, his nostrils expanding slightly. The man on the other end of the phone chuckled politely.
    Pippa called a locksmith, had the locks changed. This time, they gave no one a key. A week went by. Pippa kept thinking about the cake. It had to be Herb. He had forgotten. He was losing his mind. Pippa watched him with special care now. Every time he misplaced his glasses or forgot someone’s name, she felt her suspicion grow. Then, the next Sunday morning, she walked into the kitchen and