11
“BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING, Claire, I made a special trip all the way over here just to tell you this in person. I wasn’t about to do it over the phone. I really am sorry, but something’s come up with work. Bill—”
“Bill,” I said in unison. “Of course.” I looked around to make sure no movers were within earshot. “So much for work-life balance, huh?”
“Please,” he went on. “Just give me a chance to explain before you render a hasty verdict.”
“And please, will you not use that legal lingo with me? You know I don’t like it.”
He opened his mouth to respond, then promptly closed it. “I’m sorry. But I’m between a rock and hard place on this one.”
“And exactly which one am I?”
He exhaled. “The firm’s courting a national corporate client, and Bill asked me to join him this afternoon. It’s a huge opportunity to prove myself—to him and to the other partners.”
I went cold inside. If they didn’t already believe in Stephen, they wouldn’t have hired him. “Then you should do it.”
“I know you don’t mean that. But if this were you and one of your clients . . .”
“Why do you always turn things back on me? When’s the last time I left you high and dry after promising I’d be there for you? I’ve left everything behind, Stephen. Everything. For you.”
He stared at me, then looked away. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. It’s nine holes, then dinner. And, Claire, I really do wish I could be here instead.”
“Right, unpacking is way more fun than golf and dinner at the club.”
Before he could respond, I noticed Rhonda in the front doorway. Her guarded expression sent embarrassment tearing through me.
“Rhonda. Hi!” I attempted a pleasant smile. “It’s good to see you. Please come on in. What brings you by today?”
“Your closing packet. And fresh apple fritters!” She held up a white pastry box in one hand, a manila folder in her other. “Because moving ranks just above rolling in an anthill, then setting yourself on fire!” She laughed, and I knew she was kindly offering us an out. But our issues ran deeper. So much deeper.
“You are so thoughtful!” I set the folder aside and peeked inside the box. “These smell—and look—heavenly! I might not even share these with the movers.”
“You’d better not. These are for homeowners only.” She looked past me. “Hey, Stephen. You headed to bag a few birdies?”
He nodded. “Better that than bogies.”
“Well, take a fritter or two for the road. Sugar is a Southern superpower, you know.”
“Oh, I know! Which is why I had my assistant order some Peloton equipment for the house this morning.” He lifted the lid and grabbed a pastry. “Thanks, Rhonda. I’ve always loved these things.” He gave her a salute, then looked at me, his gaze saying we’d talk later. “Be home as soon as I can.”
“Have a good time.” I smiled as he left, knowing I wasn’t fooling Rhonda and still concerned about what she’d overheard. And the exercise equipment—Stephen had asked his assistant, Erin, to order it. Was that even ethical? Why hadn’t he done it himself or asked me? The firm paid Erin’s salary, not us. Maybe such was acceptable at Burgdan, Croft, and Finney. So much for the firm’s band of legal knights in shining armor.
Rhonda gestured to the folder. “Along with the closing documents, I included the paperwork from the National Register of Historic Places, and also the name and number of the gal I always work with there. She’s a jewel.”
“Thank you again, Rhonda. You’ve been so kind through all of this.”
She glanced away. “Listen, I’m sorry for just showing up. I should have texted or called first.”
I waved off the comment. “Don’t think another thing about it. You were right on the nose. Moving is just flat awful. Especially across country. But for now, you have to tell me where you got these fritters!”
As I’d hoped, that segue launched a new conversation. After we chatted for a few minutes, she glanced toward the staircase. I sensed she wanted a tour, so I offered one.
“I would love that, Claire, once you’re settled and rested. Again, I know what moving is like.”
“Anthills and fire is pretty accurate.”
“You’ll get through it.” She paused. “Jim and I are going on thirty-seven years—some of those years happier than others, if I’m honest.” She winked and reached out, and it took me a second to realize she intended to hug me. I quickly reciprocated, but not before she’d seen my surprise.
“You’re in the South now, Claire. We’re huggers. If you can’t get used to that, I’m not sure you’re going to make it.”
I laughed. “What about being called ma’am at every turn. Is that on the list too?”
“Ma’am, darlin’, sweetie. Whatever comes to mind, honey. Baby doll, sport, buddy. We’re full of them.”
I walked her out to her car. “One more thing, Rhonda. You mentioned something the other day about the previous owner saying the house was haunted.” I rolled my eyes as if I put little stock in it. “Just curious whether she ever said why she thought that?”
“Oh, she’d go on and on about it. Says she heard the sound of a woman crying. Thankfully, she never saw anything.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Except for one time.” She raised her eyebrows, and I couldn’t tell if she was serious. “She said she saw a little boy on the staircase, just standing there, smiling down at her. Scared the living daylights out of her, bless her heart.”
“It would me too,” I said, forcing a smile. “If I bought into such nonsense.”
Her smile softened. “It’s a beautiful old home, Claire. You and Stephen give yourselves time to get settled in. Everything will come together. You’ll see.”
I watched her drive away, grateful for her humor and wisdom and envying her openness and transparency. I turned and took a long look at the house, then snapped a picture with my phone. I texted the image to Sandra and added,
I scarcely got my phone back into my pocket before it dinged. She’d responded,
The screen blurred in my vision.
“Ma’am?”
Darius stood behind me, carrying the bright-red storage container. “This doesn’t have a room listed on it, ma’am. Where would you like it?”
“Thanks,” I whispered. “I’ll take it.”
Back inside, as I climbed the staircase, I imagined a little boy suddenly appearing, smiling down at me, and an unpleasant chill inched up my spine. Then I pictured another boy. Only I knew this boy, and his face was one I loved. In our bedroom, I tucked the container into the armoire, wanting time alone with its contents but knowing that wouldn’t come until later.
Well after eleven o’clock, I was in bed when I heard the front door and the jingle of Stephen’s keys as he placed them on the side table.
I’d spent most of the afternoon and evening making our bedroom and bathroom livable. Paige had called earlier, and I’d taken her advice and put on some worship and praise music as I’d put things away. Why I didn’t ever think of that on my own, I don’t know. But I could always count on her to point me back in the right direction.
I’d had a chance to cool off and realize I’d overreacted to Stephen. I’d been disappointed and hurt at the change in plans. Hope was a potent thing. But we’d come so far. We would work through this, find that life-work balance he’d spoken of.
I’d placed our wedding portrait on the dresser in the spot where it had been for twenty-two years. Dressers had come and gone, but the picture remained unchanged. I couldn’t say the same for us. How young we looked. And so in love. Those two people, so innocent and full of dreams, were gone forever. But maybe with time and intentionality—and a divine hand—we would find love, and each other, again.
I’d left Stephen’s nightstand lamp on and had propped pillows behind me, ready to talk. But as soon as he walked in, the set of his shoulders and the way he barely looked at me told me that was not likely to happen.
“How was it?” I asked, intent on at least starting to build yet another bridge.
“We got the account.” But he didn’t sound excited about it.
“Well, that’s good, right? It’s what you were—”
“I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to get ready for bed.” He grabbed the pajama bottoms I’d left out for him and disappeared into the bathroom.
“All right,” I finally answered and lay down, an uneasiness taking hold.
He climbed into bed and turned out the light. The darkness closed in around us.
“Things look nice in here, Claire. I knew you’d put your special touch on it.”
Despite the fact he’d just brushed his teeth, I caught the unmistakable whiff of alcohol on his breath.
Tears slipped down my temples. “Thank you,” I whispered, frozen on the edge of the chasm separating us. I couldn’t imagine what had happened tonight. I only knew that something had.