Two Widows: A totally gripping mystery and suspense novel Page 10

  “I bet I’m the laughingstock of your friends. Right? Was this all a big joke to you? Buying us the same Fendi bag? Why would you do that? Is that why you wanted me to dye my hair blonde? Is that your type?” Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I closed my eyes, but nothing could stop them.

  “No. It wasn’t like that. No one is laughing at you. I’m the idiot. Please let me come home.”

  “No.”

  “At least let me stop by and pick up some clothes.”

  “Ha,” I chuckled an evil laugh, “you better come before trash pickup on Friday morning.”

  “Why?”

  “Your clothes are out in the dumpster.” I glanced out the window, proud that I’d gotten some sort of meaningful revenge.

  “What? Are you serious?”

  I smiled through my tears.

  “Liz, what the fuck? Why would you do that?”

  “You hurt me. I hurt you. That’s karma.”

  “Oh, man.” Jason sat silent on the other end. “Okay, I get it. Maybe I even deserve it. I can always buy new clothes. But you… You’re the one thing I can’t replace. And our baby. Please. Give me a chance.” His voice sounded blurred and choppy, and I realized he was crying. I’d only seen him cry one other time: the day ten months ago when he found out his mom had died. This time, my heart didn’t soften at his blubbering. The part of me that cared about his feelings, the piece that felt empathy, had been mangled beyond repair.

  “Don’t come near me.”

  The credits flashed on the screen as the episode of Tiny House Nation came to an end. I’d called in sick for the third day and I was on my fourth tiny house show. My chest swelled as each couple or family abandoned their belongings and motored away in their barren and economical mini home, smiling and open to life’s possibilities. Unlike Jason, these people got it.

  For a second, I wondered if I could become the people on TV. Maybe now was my chance, while my life was in complete chaos. No one could blame me for making a drastic change. A tiny house would never have worked with Jason and his aggravating attachment to stuff, his worship of physical possessions, and his need to impress every person he encountered. But with just the baby and me, it wasn’t so crazy. We’d be free to roam and explore the country, never stressed by finances or weighed down with material burdens. My shoulders tightened as I remembered all the paraphernalia that comes along with having a baby. No way could I fit a crib, a changing table, a stroller, a highchair, and mountains of toys into a tiny house. Plus, once he or she started school we’d have to stay put. Homeschooling wasn’t for me.

  The front door creaked open. I bolted up from the couch. Had I forgotten to lock it?

  “Elizabeth! We’re here.” Mom’s voice bellowed through the house.

  I stood and limped to the foyer where she rushed toward me and engulfed me in a bear hug. “Have you been eating? You look thin.”

  I took in her outfit, a deep-purple windbreaker with matching wind pants. She’d gained weight in her midsection and her hair was darker.

  Before I could answer, Dad stepped through the door dragging two overstuffed suitcases behind him. He wore a similar windbreaker, but, thankfully, it was black, not purple, and his pants were regular jeans. In contrast to Mom, he’d gotten skinnier and the wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced.

  “There she is!” Dad kissed my head. “Things looking up yet, Lizzie?”

  A half-hearted laugh slipped from my mouth. “Not really.”

  In truth, today had been slightly better than the previous two days. I’d forced myself to shower and eat small meals. In between fits of despair and rage, and episodes of Tiny House Nation, I’d managed to make up the bed in the guest room in preparation for their visit. I’d even written a first draft of the Burlington article and sent it off to Gwen. Not my best work, but hopefully enough to get me a pass until the next assignment.

  “Where’s Caroline?” I asked.

  “She’s getting her things from the car. She’ll be here in a minute,” Dad said.

  My parents exchanged an awkward glance. Beyond the open front door, Caroline pulled two more overstuffed suitcases behind her.

  “How long are you guys staying?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “We just wanted to be prepared,” Mom shrugged, “in case you need us to stay longer than you thought.”

  “Lizzie!” Caroline leaped through the entryway, leaving her luggage outside. She wrapped her bony arms around me and hugged tightly. She stepped back and we studied each other for a minute. I hadn’t seen my younger sister since last Christmas when we’d gone to visit her at the rehab facility. Our relationship had grown more distant and strained with each one of her relapses. She’d lied to me countless times, stolen from me and my parents, and somehow still managed to charm everyone around her while acting like a child. She’d had her fourth relapse on Christmas Eve, putting Mom’s preplanned holiday festivities into a tailspin. Addiction to heroin was fierce, not easily overcome. I’d spent plenty of time reading up on the science behind her addiction and had even attended a handful of family recovery meetings with Caroline. Still, I felt she hadn’t learned from her mistakes, always choosing the short-term solution, the path of least resistance. At the end of the day, she was an adult, responsible for her choices. Caroline was ultimately to blame for the mess she’d made. And my parents, too, for enabling her. She was my sister, though, and I had to give her another chance. Nearly three months sober was nothing to scoff at. Maybe this time was different. Maybe she really had changed. She looked vibrant, her shoulder-length hair shiny, her eyes bright.

  “I’m so sorry about Jason. What an asshole.” Caroline rolled her eyes.

  I forgot how much I missed her candor, and I gave her arm an extra squeeze. “Thanks. It’s good to see you looking so healthy.”

  She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I wish I could say the same about you, but you’re not looking so hot.”

  “You should have seen what I looked like yesterday,” I said.

  Caroline chuckled. I ushered them into the living room where they gawked at the surroundings.

  “Nice house you’ve got here.” Dad stuck out his chin. “Make sure that loser husband of yours doesn’t take it from you.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes at him. “Ben!”

  Apparently, they still didn’t agree on the best course of action for me to take with Jason.

  “Technically, we own it jointly.” My face turned hot, as another wave of grief approached. I couldn’t afford the mortgage on my journalist’s salary. The thought of losing the house was too much to bear. I turned away from them and gathered myself. “We’ll have to figure it out.”

  Mom stepped toward me and rubbed my shoulder. “You’ve got plenty of time for that. Let’s work on getting your spirits up first. What do you say we go out for dinner?”

  My insides recoiled at the thought of showing my face in public, of leaving the safe cover of my house. I wondered if exposure to sunlight would cause my body to shrivel up and blow away in the wind.

  Dad nudged me with his elbow. “It’ll be good for you to get out of the house.”

  All three of them stared at me, expectant. I’d have to leave at some point. Maybe it was better to venture out while surrounded by family.

  “Okay. Sure.” I shrugged, but my stomach turned over.

  A smile crept across Mom’s strained face.

  “I can help you with your makeup,” Caroline paused, picking at her nail, “I mean, not that you need it.”

  I pressed my lips into a smile and shook my head. We all laughed. It was a relief to find some humor in my situation. I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror before they arrived and I knew she was right. I looked like a disaster. No amount of makeup could cover my swollen face and the redness in my eyes. But Caroline was welcome to try.

  Thirteen

  Gloria

  Now

  The steam from the muffins warmed my hands as I traipsed across the tire tr
acks to the tiny house. Hopefully Beth liked blueberries, because I’d added an extra cup of them to the recipe. The windows of her house were dark, but Beth’s truck was parked in its usual spot. I didn’t want to intrude on her, although I was bursting to share the good news about Ethan. A bag of flowers hung over my arm, and I ignored the way the handle dug into my wrist and pulled at my skin. After going to the IGA to stock up on groceries, I’d driven over to the nursery to pick up some snapdragons and impatiens for Beth to plant next to her house. Gardening would boost her spirits.

  I set the flowers on the ground, then climbed the three steps to her front porch and pressed the doorbell. A tractor hummed in the distance. After waiting a few seconds, I couldn’t make out any movement inside. Pushing the doorbell again, I paced toward the steps, wondering how her meeting with Amanda had gone. The faint melody of music seeped through the walls, rising and dipping in slow motion. My feet stuck in place and I cocked my head as a haunting female voice sang lyrics I couldn’t understand followed by low chords on a synthesizer and the thumping of drums. The music must have drowned out the doorbell. I rapped my knuckles on the door, but Beth still didn’t appear. Rocking my weight to my other foot I checked over my shoulder, deciding what to do. The muffins were getting cold.

  Stepping around to the side of the house, I found a place to peek inside. Maybe I could catch her attention through the window. Balancing my hands against the wall, I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes and peered through a pane of glass. Beth’s profile hovered below me, her features muted in shadows. She was turned to the side and holding something. An open shoebox was propped in her arms, but the contents were obscured by the darkness. She was spellbound by whatever the box held.

  I’d caught her in a private moment and considered returning later. Before I could lower my face from the window, her eyes slid over to meet mine, her jaw dropping as she turned. She swung the box behind her back, grabbed the lid off the couch, and covered the opening. I averted my gaze and pressed my lips together.

  She stared back at me and pointed toward the front door, so I backed away from the window and headed around to the porch, warding off the heat gathering in my face. A few seconds later, the lock clicked and the door opened. The music had been turned off. Beth’s hair was disheveled and her eyes were red and swollen.

  “I’m sorry to intrude.” My cheeks burned. “I baked some muffins and I thought I’d bring them over before they got cold.” I extended the foil-wrapped bundle toward her.

  Beth stepped toward me, taking the package. “Thank you, Gloria. That’s sweet.”

  “Is everything okay? I rang the doorbell and knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  Beth shook her head and sniffled. “Oh, yeah. The doorbell needs a new battery. I’ve been meaning to replace it.”

  An uncomfortable silence sat between us, and I suddenly wished she hadn’t turned off that morbid music.

  Beth must have sensed my unease. She waved me forward, “Sorry. Come on in.”

  I shuffled inside, admiring Beth’s orderly house and surveying the room for the shoebox, but it had already been stored away in some nook or cranny.

  Beth walked ahead of me, setting the muffins on her kitchen counter. She took two steps, which landed her back in the living room. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “Yes. Maybe just for a minute.” I was unsure if Beth really wanted me there, but she looked like she could use a friend. A framed photograph of a snow-topped mountain range was propped against the wall, so I carefully stepped around it. The picture with the metal frame had been hanging behind the couch the last time I’d been here.

  She pointed to the picture. “Sorry about the mess. It keeps falling. I need a new wire for the back.”

  “That’s no mess at all, trust me.” As I went to sit on the sofa, the corner of something white poked out from beneath my foot. I stepped sideways and plucked an overturned photograph off the floor. Flipping it over, I found an image of Beth staring back at me, her arm looped around a taller and thinner version of herself.

  “Oh! Is this your sister, Caroline?” I asked.

  Beth’s eyes widened. Her hand shot toward me and plucked the photo away before I barely had a chance to look at it. “Yeah. That’s her.” She slid open a drawer behind her and shoved the photo inside without looking at it. “It’s an old picture.”

  “Do you get to see her much?”

  “No. We lost touch, like I said. I haven’t seen her in months.” Beth’s voice was sharp. I couldn’t tell if she was angry at her sister for disappearing or at me for meddling. I lowered myself onto the denim sofa, finding the cushions firmer than expected. Beth pulled up a stool opposite me without making eye contact. She strummed her fingers against her thigh. Whatever had been inside that box still had a hold on her.

  “Was your lunch with Amanda worthwhile?” I asked, deciding to change subjects.

  Beth’s eyes flickered in my direction. “Definitely.” She straightened herself up in her chair and smiled, making an obvious effort to banish whatever worries had weighed her down. “Amanda was right about the fish tacos at Barney’s. They were good. And she had some other insights into the town I never would have discovered on my own.”

  “I’m thrilled it went well.”

  “Thanks for introducing us. We had more in common than I thought.” Beth played with the beaded bracelet wrapped around her wrist. “We’re going to hang out again.”

  “It was my pleasure. I’m glad you found someone closer to your own age than me.” I smiled, but the sudden weight of jealousy caused me to slouch. I worked the tightness out of my back and refocused. “Say, I’ve been meaning to share some good news.”

  Beth was still fidgeting with her bracelet, but she stopped. “What is it?”

  “I called my son, Ethan, like you suggested. He’s flying back from San Francisco in a few days.”

  She slapped her hands down. “What? Just like that? Is he staying with you?”

  “Yes. For ten whole days!” I took a deep breath. “I apologized for hurting him. I think we’re on the mend.”

  “That’s great, Gloria. I’m so happy for you.”

  To my surprise, Beth popped up from her seat and hugged me. When she pulled away, tears had gathered in the corners of her red eyes.

  “Maybe you can join us for dinner once he’s here?” I said when she sat back down. “I know he’ll adore you.”

  “Of course. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “It probably sounds silly, but I don’t think I’d have had the courage to reach out to him if it hadn’t been for our conversation the other day.” I stared at my hands, inspecting the thin skin stretched over the tendons and veins, and wondering why I’d spent so many years trying to make Ethan fit into a box that didn’t suit him, and why it had taken me another two years to tell him I’d been wrong. My eyes traveled back to Beth. “Thank you for giving me that extra push. He’s my only child, after all.”

  “Sometimes you have to look at things from a new perspective. That can make all the difference.”

  I stared at Beth, gratitude filling my chest for her sudden appearance in my life. I wondered how she’d accumulated so much wisdom in so few years. My shoulders loosened as I stood up. “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your evening.”

  “You too, Gloria. Thanks again for the muffins.”

  As I opened the door to leave, the flowers I’d left at the base of the steps caught my eye. “I brought you some flowers, too.” I pointed to the pink and purple impatiens and the yellow and blue snapdragons.

  “Those are beautiful, Gloria. That was really nice of you.”

  “Plant them about four inches deep. Be sure to let me know if you need any help.” I stepped off the porch as Joe’s SUV lurched down the driveway in the distance. Beth stood next to me, and we watched the vehicle disappear around the curve.

  I turned toward her bleary face. “I hope the visit from the police officer didn’t unsettle you too much. I can assu
re you this isn’t a high-crime area.”

  Beth shifted her weight. “He was only doing his job.” The sound of Joe’s motor faded. “How much do you know about your new tenant?” she asked.

  “To be honest, not much. He seems harmless enough, though.”

  “Artists are usually a little weird.” She raised an eyebrow and we both chuckled.

  As I shuffled over the uneven ground toward my driveway, I registered the remoteness of our location and remembered the rifle-shaped duffel bag Joe had taken up to his apartment. It was better not to mention it to Beth. I didn’t want to give her any reason to move away.

  “You get that doorbell fixed so I don’t barge in on you again,” I said over my shoulder. My gaze traveled toward the garage apartment. “And lock your door.”

  A crease in my cotton sheets rubbed against my legs. I shifted my feet to try to work out the fold, but it only aggravated me more. The alarm clock on my nightstand glowed with giant green numbers—1:35 a.m. I’d bought the clock for Charlie several Christmases ago when his vision had begun to deteriorate. That was the same year he’d started reading large-print books. He’d never been one to complain, even when things started going downhill. One day, he’d simply replaced his latest Tom Clancy paperback with a hardcover version featuring larger letters and twice the number of pages.

  “Got it from the library,” he’d said when he saw me staring as I brushed my teeth in the doorway.

  That was the thing about Charlie; he hadn’t thought he was special or that he deserved to be immune to life’s ups and downs. He adjusted and moved on. Even when Ethan had come out, Charlie had handled it better than me. He’d taken it in his stride.

  Now, the clock’s enormous digits covered the bedroom in an iridescent glow, as if a spaceship had landed next to my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut but couldn’t blink away the neon imprint left by the numbers. I sat up, surrendering. Sleep wasn’t happening for me tonight. At least, not anytime soon.