CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

“I don’t really want to talk now, Lila,” Jennifer said, after she had settled into the passenger seat. Her voice sounded rusty. “Can you just drop me off at home?”

Lila said, “I’ll take you home, but there’s someone I want you to meet first.” She turned away from Jennifer’s apartment and drove south to Bayshore Boulevard.

Jennifer noticed the direction the car was taking, but didn’t protest. She’d muster the energy soon. Very soon. But not yet.

Lila continued driving east until she reached the long bridge to Davis Islands. She eventually parked on Como Street in front of a small ranch-style house that resembled Lila’s own home. Hundreds of these small ranches must have been built around South Tampa in the sixties. This one was not as well kept as the Waldens’. No flowers lined the driveway and the paint was peeling in many places. The doors and windows were shut tight against the summer heat. The air conditioning inside was presumably on high.

“Where are we?” Jennifer asked, surprised to feel a small spark of curiosity.

“You’ll see. Come on.” Lila parked the car and got out. Jennifer followed. Lila rang the doorbell and waited a few moments before she opened the glass storm door and then the solid aluminum door and entered the frigid house. Jennifer followed.

Lila sat down in the living room on a couch that the Salvation Army wouldn’t have accepted. The arms and the cushions were frayed at the edges, and the entire sofa sagged in the middle. The fabric upholstery was a synthetic plaid that looked like a man’s flannel hunting shirt.

The house was cluttered with well-used, or simply worn-out, mismatched furnishings. Dirt thick enough to plant tomatoes had settled on every available surface. The vague odor of incense hung in the brittle air.

Jennifer stood, hands folded in front of her, unwilling to touch anything, and simply waited. She had no idea why they were there, but she knew Lila well enough by now to realize she wouldn’t be pushed. Resisting Lila was futile.

Minutes passed. Lila read a magazine while Jennifer resisted sad thoughts of Stuart’s funeral. She was tired of crying, tired of being sad. Back when they were friends, Melanie had tried to convince Jennifer that her thoughts were what controlled her world. Melanie was a New Age convert from Judaism. She was always giving Jennifer advice on how to improve her life.

Melanie told Jennifer many times that she could change her life simply by changing her approach to situations as they appeared. Jennifer wanted to believe her, but her efforts to resurrect Stuart through positive thinking had failed. The silly idea made her smile.

For a few minutes in Russell Denton’s office, Jennifer had thought maybe things could change. She actually felt powerful then, as if she could take on Roger Riley and win. But Russell wasn’t willing to give her another chance.

And why should he have? It’s not as if you’ve done anything to gain his confidence. You hid in a corner with your eyes squeezed shut while Ronald Walden shot and killed Stuart. You lost every battle on Denton’s case you were asked to fight. He’d have been crazy to keep you.

Yet something in Jennifer clung to the hopeful words the otherwise treacherous Melanie had gifted to her. Jennifer hoped her feelings were simply a matter of lack of support and love in her life. Stuart had supported her in his own way. He’d played Nero Wolfe to her Archie with genuine affection. She knew he had. Knew it. Without Stuart to rely on, she’d need a big change. She welcomed that idea. Craved it, really. She felt now was the time. But what change? And how?

As quickly as the seeds of her optimism began to germinate, Jennifer was overcome again with grief. How would she function without Stuart? Emotions washed through her like ocean waves hitting the sand. The pounding guilt receded for a minute and calm intervened, and then harsh reality returned with stronger force than the previous onrush.

She looked at Lila calmly reading a magazine. What was Jennifer doing here? Allowing Lila to lead her was easier than fighting to rise above the emotional tide. Easy sounded great at the moment. She’d be ready for the fight soon. But not yet.

A door opened down the small hallway and Jennifer heard voices coming toward her. She looked up to see two women, one a visitor, walk past the living room entry and out the front door. The two women stood to talk briefly on the front porch.

The smaller woman came back into the house and joined Jennifer and Lila in the living room. She nodded at Lila, then, extending her hand to Jennifer, she said, “I’m Abby Barnett, Ms. Lane. Welcome. Come this way.”

Lila said, “Go on. She won’t bite you.”

Jennifer felt silly thinking maybe Lila was right. Could Abby Barnett have something, anything, helpful to give her? She had very little to lose and she was willing to try at this point. She couldn’t simply walk home now. She shrugged. Why not?

She straightened her spine and followed Abby down the short, narrow hallway and into a small room on the right furnished with examples of eclectic spiritualism. Two large posters of book covers decorated the wall. Abigail Barnett was prominently printed on the bottom of each. The books were typical of several Melanie had given Jennifer to read. Be Your Own Guide was one of the titles. The other was How to Manifest Your Dreams.

So Abby Barnett was what? A therapist? A psychic?

Jennifer felt silly now, letting Lila lead her anywhere. She should have known better. She’d wait this out, get through it, and get the hell out of here.

Abby looked the part of a spiritual adviser. She resembled the descriptions of gypsies in stories for children with her wild, curly dark hair, small stature, dark eyes. Abby exuded a positive, soothing calm that enveloped Jennifer like a cocoon. Almost against her will, she felt relaxed, as if she’d known Abby all her life.

Abby handed Jennifer a deck of Tarot cards and told her to hold them in her right hand and shuffle with her left. “I want to get you out of your head for a while,” Abby instructed. Jennifer did as she was told not simply through habit; getting out of her head seemed like a fine plan. She’d love to get out of her head.

“You’re a Gemini, right?” Abby asked her.

Surprise widened Jennifer’s eyes and prompted a quick response. “Lila told you?”

Abby smiled gently. “You seem to be two people to me. You have a tough side, and a weak side. But your weak side predominates.”

Jennifer felt she must be wearing a sign on her forehead that said, “Ambivalence is my name.”

“I’m very intuitive. I sense much about you and your life,” Abby said.

“Like what?” Jennifer was intrigued, even though she figured Lila as Abby’s information source.

“It’s easy to see how unhappy you are right now. A friend died, and you feel abandoned,” Abby told her. “But this will be a good thing for you.”

Jennifer stopped shuffling the cards immediately and stared.

Abby said calmly, as if stating the most obvious logic, “Every soul must follow its own path. Stuart chose his fate. You must accept his choice.”

Jennifer thought the woman must be insane. She said, “Why would Stuart choose to die? He had everything to live for. Everything.”

“I can’t answer that for you, Jennifer. Only Stuart’s soul knows the actual answer. But, what I can tell you is that no amount of mourning on your part will bring Stuart back into your life. What matters now is how you deal with the situation that has been gifted to you.”

Jennifer’s anger overflowed like pent up lava. “Gifted to me? Are you kidding? My best friend is dead and I let it happen. How in the hell is that a gift?” But she didn’t storm out of the room. Against all reason, she wanted to know Abby’s answer.

Blunt words were softened and made more powerful by Abby’s quiet delivery. “The reality is that Stuart is no longer a part of your daily life. How are you going to deal with that?”

Jennifer had no idea how to answer. She would miss him forever—his laugh, his keen intelligence, his wit, his sense of honor. Stuart had, indeed, been one of a kind. He was irreplaceable.

Abby said, “Stuart will always be special to you. Nothing will change the feelings you have for him. You will always have those memories and that foundation to fall back on. Yet, he is gone and your destiny is to continue on your own journey.”

Jennifer’s heart knew Abby was right. Jennifer wanted to live in the past. At some point she’d have to let Stuart go. But not yet.

“You can continue to love Stuart, Jennifer. His spirit will be with you as long as you need it,” Abby told her, still gentle. “But Stuart left you to set you free. What will you do with his gift, with that freedom?”

This time, Jennifer considered Abby’s words. With Stuart gone, Jennifer’s loyalty to him was released. She no longer needed to try to fit into his world, a world that didn’t value her, didn’t want her, where she couldn’t excel. Worthington had never been the right place for Jennifer, as much as she’d wanted it to be. With Stuart gone, she could leave the firm forever. She actually began to feel a bit free. For a moment.

And do what? Go where?

Abby waited, allowing Jennifer to think things through. After a minute or so, she asked, “What will you do now?”

Jennifer had no idea what she would do next. She had been wallowing in pain for days. She felt comfortable there. Too comfortable.

Are you just going to die, too? Follow Stuart wherever he went? Is that who you are?

Abby gazed at the opposite wall, then spoke again, more forcefully. “I know it seems too soon, that you need to grieve Stuart longer. But I urge you not to do that, Jennifer. You’ll never get over Stuart’s death, not really. Don’t waste any more time indulging your misery. Let it go. You must dust yourself off and move forward. Stuart’s given you a growth opportunity for you, but you have to use it. What doesn’t kill you makes you smarter, Archie.”

Jennifer felt her mouth flop open. She stared into Abby’s brown eyes as if she might see a twinkle of someone else there.

Stuart used to say that just to piss her off.

Immediately, Jennifer felt her spine straighten and her chin jut in the old response to Stuart’s challenge. The rush of adrenaline was just what she needed.