34

“I’M NOT RIDING IN YOUR CAR, STEPHEN.” Surely I didn’t need to spell it out for him again.

Realization flashed across his face. He had the decency to look away. “Right. Sorry, I— We’ll take yours. But do you mind if I drive?”

I tossed him the keys, and he moved his suitcase from his trunk to my back seat. As we pulled out of the driveway, I turned on the radio for a buffer, wishing we were already past this weekend.

Maggie’s flight from Denver would land within the hour. The three of us would grab lunch and then catch a two o’clock flight to Savannah for Granby’s funeral tomorrow. To my disappointment, Maggie had texted a couple of nights ago saying she needed to fly in on Friday morning instead of earlier as planned. Then I’d quickly realized that worked better in regard to her not knowing about Stephen and me yet.

Traveling and attending the funeral, basically being out of routine, would make playing the “happy couple” easier to pull off. Until we returned home and had to face the truth. How I dreaded that moment and how much it would hurt her.

“I know this is asking a lot, Claire,” Stephen said, turning down the radio. “And I don’t say it flippantly. But do you think we could be more than just civil to each other this weekend? For Maggie’s sake?” He cleared his throat. “And for Mom’s?”

I glanced over at him, his grip firm on the steering wheel. Even unshaven, fatigue weighing his features, he was handsome. But looking at him wasn’t the same anymore. All I could see was him with Susan Johnson, though I’d never actually seen her, only her shapely backside. My body flushed hot and cold as I imagined how close I’d come to running into them at his office that day. I would’ve been standing there, the unsuspecting little wife, holding those stupid boxes of apple fritters while my husband had a tête-à-tête with her on the elevator. I needed to stop thinking about it. I had to let it go. But how?

A job might help—something to occupy my mind. Both Nanci and Alex had said that once the press release came out about the hidden room, I’d likely have my pick of job offers from the top decorating agencies in Buckhead or even in all of Atlanta. In a voicemail yesterday, Nanci said the announcement should go public in the next couple of weeks, so—

“Should I take your silence as a no?”

I shook my head. “No, I was just—of course we can be more than civil. And I won’t say anything to Bev or Michael. You can tell your sister in your own time. I did tell Paige, so I assume Tom knows. But they’re both vaults, so it won’t go any further.”

He nodded, the muscles tightening in his jaw. “What about the crew?”

“You mean Alex and his workers?”

He nodded. “Do they know?”

“No. Why would they?” I paused. “Except—”

“Except what?”

“Well, I think it’s obvious we’re not both living there. And I’m pretty sure they heard us fighting that day in the kitchen. It’s a big house, but it’s not that big. And I would guess Alex has gathered that something is wrong between us.”

“And just how would he have gathered that?” Sarcasm barbed the question.

“Because he’s there every day, Stephen, from early in the morning to often late into the evening, and you’re never there.”

“I’m a senior partner at a major law firm. I work long hours.”

“Yes, but—”

“But what?”

His argumentative side was one thing I hadn’t missed. “That day I showed up at your office—”

“Is it always going to come back to that day?”

I glared at him. “Your belligerence is frankly ironic considering your role in this. I’m just trying to answer your question, so if this is your idea of being more than civil, we both need to change our answers.”

Grimacing, he changed lanes and accelerated. If we couldn’t get along on a thirty-minute car ride, how on earth were we going to negotiate an entire weekend? Then there would be the hotel . . .

Erin had booked adjoining king rooms at a place near Bev and Michael. Bev, kind sister-in-law she was, had tried to insist we stay with them, but I’d dodged that minefield. For Maggie’s sake, we just had to get through this weekend. Right now, Sunday felt a world away and—

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

Stephen’s voice was so soft and his apology so shocking, I did a double take.

“I really am,” he said. “Please, go on. I won’t interrupt again.”

The contrition in his tone sounded genuine, but I had to wonder what game he was playing. I was determined not to fall for it. “What I was going to say is that Alex arrived so early that next morning that I hadn’t had a chance to clean up the mess I’d made the night before.”

“With the sledgehammer.”

“Right. He saw the condition of the room, of course, but I think it was seeing our wedding portrait on the floor, the photograph torn and the frame pretty much . . . Well, that might have tipped him off.”

Stephen actually chuckled. “Yeah, that might’ve been a clue.”

“But Alex hasn’t said a thing to me about it, nor would he. He’s not the type to pry.”

Stephen only nodded, looking deep in thought.

“Anyway, yes, I will do all I can to keep up pretenses this weekend. For Maggie and as we honor your precious mother—whom I loved very much.”

“I know you did.” He looked over. “She loved you, too. Like a daughter.”

Thinking about Elaine and the last time I’d seen her in the Richland Memory Care Home in Denver brought a knot to my throat. She’d looked so frail and confused. But not any longer. Spotting the airport exit ahead, I worked to pull myself together, determined to keep the promise I’d just made.

We put our hope in the LORD. He is our help and our shield.

That verse returned like a whisper. My Bible was tucked in my carry-on and Charlotte’s journal in my bag, wrapped in one of Elaine’s silk scarves she’d given me years ago. I hadn’t wanted to leave either behind.

“So, have you learned anything else about the house?” Stephen asked, exiting the highway. “From the room, I mean?”

Not in the frame of mind to discuss this, I realized it could be an olive branch. Besides, it was his house too. “Not from the room, per se, but I did drop by the Atlanta History Center earlier this week. A woman I’ve spoken with there found newspaper articles from that era that reference Jonathan and Charlotte Thursmann and some of the social events they attended. Even guest lists from parties they hosted at the house.”

“Anybody famous?”

“Nobody we recognized. She also gave me copies of pages from a merchant’s ledger that detail purchases made from the Thursmanns’ plantation—tobacco, apples, peaches, pears, various vegetables, and peanuts.”

“No cotton?” he asked.

“Not that she could find.”

Bernice had promised to keep looking for additional information. The woman’s passion for history and tenacity in research were unrivaled.

Thirty minutes later, inside the terminal, we watched for our sweet Maggie to appear in the crowded jetway. I spotted her a split second before she saw us. Her smile was pure delight and lingered through tight hugs and the play-by-play of college life over lunch. Yet it also made what we would have to tell her after the weekend that much more agonizing.

More than once during the meal, I caught Stephen watching me, and I wanted to tell him to stop. It wasn’t normal for him to stare at me like that. It hadn’t been for a long time. But when Maggie started looking between us as if studying our behavior, I feared she already had an inkling something was awry.

As though sensing my concern, Stephen began plying her with questions. The two of them quickly fell into the fun-loving rhythm they had with each other, one I prayed wouldn’t change once he and I were no longer together.

Later, I made sure I boarded the plane first.

“Mom, you sure you want to sit back there by yourself?” Maggie gestured to the two seats on the left of the aisle in front of me, a flood of passengers boarding behind her and Stephen. “You and Dad can sit together, and I’ll sit behind you guys.”

“Nothin’ doin’.” I quickly claimed the aisle seat on the next row. “You and Dad take this chance to catch up. We’ll switch on the flight back home. Besides, I need to text Aunt Bev about some final details for the service tomorrow.”

“While also checking those endless lists of yours?” Maggie smiled.

I gave her a wink. “You know me way too well.”

She scooted in and sat by the window, and Stephen, understandably solemn, offered me a sad, strained smile as he claimed the aisle seat in front of me.