Part 1 (2/2)
She stepped to the counter and quickly poured herself a mug, then pointed toward mine.
”No, I'm good.”
”Too bad you're not feeling well. I was going to ask you to go hiking with me today. I've got the whole day off.”
I watched as Caroline began to ladle soup into bowls and slap sandwiches together. ”I should do that,” I said.
”No, sit, you're sick.”
”I am,” I said.
Caroline knew how much I loved the outdoors, how much I normally would have wanted to join her on a hike. It was an obvious ploy to try and pump the truth out of me.
”The hiking would have been fun,” I said. ”You should go anyway. It's beautiful out.”
”I suppose.” She shrugged. ”Not so much fun-alone. You want cheese on this?”
”Sure. So how are things going with that guy, Phil?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.
Caroline's lips pinched into a frown. ”They're not. He's history. He hasn't called me in two weeks. And I'm glad. a.s.shole. He's dating another woman. Would you believe he brought her to the bar? I had to wait on them. If I didn't want to keep my job, I would have thrown the stupid drinks in his face.”
”Oh.”
”I made sure to water down their gin and tonics, barely put any alcohol in. I thought of doing some other things too, but ...” She smiled wickedly.
”Maybe next time.”
”Actually, he did call-right after that happened. His way of saying I may not be his true love anymore, but that doesn't mean we can't have s.e.x. What a jerk.”
”He wasn't your type anyway.”
”No, although he did have his good points. At least I didn't need to use the electric blanket when he stayed over. Oh, but Gwyn ...” She started to laugh, then to really laugh, bent over at the waist, holding her stomach, unable to talk. I began to laugh too.
”What? What?” I pleaded.
”Oh G.o.d. When he'd stay over ... I don't know. You know me, I like ... Mexican food and ... he couldn't digest the beans, I guess. And he'd ... fart, under the covers, these sneaky silent ones ... or there'd be this long high squeak, like, you know, he was trying to hold it back, but no way. And then ... I swear the blankets would rise. I had to open the windows before we'd go to sleep or I'd die.” She stopped to take a breath, still laughing, then gradually began to wind down. ”G.o.d, I wish I could tell his new girl that, but maybe she already knows.” Caroline grinned at me, then sighed. ”I might have accepted it though, if he'd been decent. You know me. I don't expect perfection.”
”But you deserve it,” I said, knowing that though she was laughing, the man had hurt her more than she would ever admit.
She placed the soup bowls and plates on the table. ”Looks good, Gwyn.”
She ate with gusto while I had trouble forcing down a few bites of sandwich and a little soup. After we'd finished, Care put the remainder of the food back in the fridge and we sat and sipped our coffee.
”I have dessert,” I said. ”Cookies, I think, and ice cream. You want some?”
”Nah, I'm full, thanks.” She plopped her elbows on the table. ”So, what else is going on? We haven't seen each other in a while. My fault, working way too much. Any new gossip? How's your sister and that burly, burly man she married? What's his name? Woof? Wolf man?”
”Wolfgang.”
”Oh, right. How are those two doing? The guy cracks me up. Mr. Macho. He's got more muscle than any man I've ever seen up close.”
”I don't know. I haven't talked to Linda lately. If I don't call her, I don't hear from her.”
”Why's that?”
”I don't know. Moody.”
”Like you?”
”I suppose, though I am getting better.”
She stared at me, her green eyes trying to bore through to my soul. I valiantly kept guard at the entrance.
”Well, I hope so,” she said, slapping her thighs, then rising from the chair. ”Okay, I seriously doubt you're telling me the truth about this so-called flu, but if so, maybe I'd better cruise out of here and let you get some rest. I wish you were coming along, but I think I'll take that hike after all. Need to stretch my legs and breathe in some good old mountain air. But call me later-if you want to talk. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. Okay?”
”Okay.”
I did feel sick after Caroline left, but now it was more mental than physical. I crawled into bed and tried hard to sleep, hoping to hide from myself for a while. I dreaded the moment I would eventually have to face Trevor. There wasn't a chance I'd ask him about any of this, not until I'd figured out what to do. Though I believed he had nothing to do with Kelly's death, and felt certain in my heart that he was, in fact, the man I knew him to be, still, I had to at least consider the possibility that my husband, the man I loved more than any man I'd ever known-had slept with my sister, and then murdered her....
The side door slammed downstairs, and I woke groggily. It seemed like only minutes later, but I'd slept for several hours. It was five o'clock, early for Trevor to be home. I could usually expect him around six or six-thirty, though many nights he arrived much later, depending on his workload.
”Hey, Gwyn,” he called out.
”Up here.”
I threaded my fingers through my hair, then turned toward the mirror. The puffiness around my eyes had receded, but sleep lines had formed along my cheek.
I rose and walked to the top of the stairs, watched as Trevor took them two at a time.
”Ah, you were sleeping, weren't you?” he said, a wry smile turning up his mouth.
”Yeah, you caught me.”
”I had one h.e.l.l of a good day. I might get the listing on a big group of condos, a new development outside of Denver, called Whispering Pines or something. You remember Robert Morris?”
”No, who?”
”You know, we met him at that party your sister gave. The sharp dresser. Oh, you met him. Anyway, I got a call from him today, and he's interested in possibly listing with us, and of course, I'm the guy he wants to do the selling.”
I watched his eyes, animated as he described his project, and then his hands, moving deftly through the air, fingers pointing out architectural wonders only he could see. Those same fingers could at any given moment touch my arm or face and bring s.h.i.+vers of l.u.s.t when even barely applied. He was six feet one to my five seven, his body trim and lightly muscled. He had thick dark hair and facial features faintly European, strong Roman nose, firm jaw. He possessed the capacity to summon at will a supremely confident charm that mesmerized women and drew the respect of men. And I'd seen his hazel eyes, sometimes a moody brown or a startling blue-green depending on the light, stop a conversation mid-sentence. But it wasn't the color, or the shape, or the thick flirty lashes that made his eyes so s.e.xy, it was the way he looked at you-as if he could see no one else. He could have had any woman in the world, I believed, and yet he'd picked me. Countless times, I'd asked myself why.
”I think we should go out and celebrate,” he said, loosening his tie. ”And then, I think we should get some use out of that fireplace downstairs.” He reached out and drew me to his chest, enveloping me in the lingering scent of his cologne, one I'd bought him last Christmas, something French and expensive. ”We'll take our clothes off, sip some wine, and make love for at least three hours. How does that sound?”
”I love how that sounds,” I said, nuzzling my nose into the warmth of his neck, temporarily filing the events of the day into some impenetrable place to be, for now at least ... forgotten.
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