When I was a young girl, I had a master plan, a vision board locked away in a safe place inside my head, and whenever I took out my key and visited, I planned out my life. Grow up, get married, and raise kids––four of them to be exact. Two boys, two girls. At twelve I wanted their names to be Piper, Kelly, Rhys, and Peter. Problem was no one ever told me what to do when my master plan failed, and I was too headstrong to believe it could be anything less than what I imagined. I would have a perfect husband, raise four perfect children, and live a perfect life.
But then I grew up. Marriage came, followed by divorce. And the dream of four kids? I wasn’t fortuitous enough to produce one. My body and its natural form of birth control made sure no babies ever gained entry. Plan A didn’t work out, and I never thought I needed a Plan B.
Maybe Charlotte felt the same way. On her vision board, she aspired to greatness. She was a professional skier and then a successful real estate agent. She met and fell in love with a man who she thought she could trust, and at some point along the way, she became cognizant enough to realize he didn’t have her best interests at heart. I wondered if she was at a good place in her life when she died. She’d paid the ultimate price. It didn’t seem fair.
By the time I reached the real estate office, the closed sign dangled from the front door. No key for Vicki tonight. I assumed she wouldn’t mind, but I gave her a call anyway. Much to my chagrin, she gave me her address and asked me to stop by. She had a client anxious to see the place and wanted to do a walkthrough beforehand. So much had changed in so little time. One day Charlotte was alive in her condo, and the next, the condo was up for sale to the highest bidder.
I arrived at Vicki’s house around dinnertime. She stood at her front door with a wine glass in one hand and a remote control in the other. A silk robe was draped around her body, and her legs were exposed, leading me to wonder why she didn’t invest in a treadmill and a longer robe.
“Nice house,” I said.
“I figure I work hard enough,” she said. “I deserve to come home to this.”
“Are you married?”
“I was. My husband and I divorced a couple of years ago. He lives in Florida now on his yacht with a woman half his age.”
“Sorry to hear it,” I said.
She shook her head.
“Don’t be. I got the house, and he got the tramp.”
I remained quiet. The plight of a woman scorned didn’t need more fuel added to its fire.
“How’s life at the office these days?” I said.
“Almost back to normal, if you can call it that. Jack is back to his old self again––sell, sell, sell.”
A cold wind swept by, and I reached for my jacket in the car.
“I’m sorry. How rude of me,” Vicki said. “Why don’t you come in for a minute and get out of this horrid weather?”
“I can’t stay,” I said.
I reached for the key in my purse.
“I bet you’re glad this whole Parker mess is all over.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Aren’t you?”
“Audrey is satisfied, and everyone wants to move on with their lives,” I said.
“And you?”
“Of course I want to, but––”
“Parker made it easy on you when he keeled over, don’t you agree? Poor guy couldn’t live with himself after what he’d done. If you ask me, the world is better off without him.”
I hadn’t asked her.
“Maybe,” I said.
“You don’t agree?”
“It’s convenient for everyone to assume Parker killed Charlotte and then himself when he couldn’t live with the guilt.”
“You want my advice? Rejoice. It’s over, and you don’t have to deal with it anymore.”
I ran my hands up and down my arms.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?”
If going inside meant more of her so-called advice, it was time to leave.
I handed her the key. “I better go.”
“Well, alright then, if you’re sure.”
She flipped the key over and over in her hand.
“Thanks for this.”