Part 15 (1/2)
I called Linda early the next morning.
”I'm so sorry I didn't answer the phone last night. I know you kept trying to call.”
”Oh Gwyn, I'm sorry too. I-”
”It's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. It was an accident, and I understand why you might have wanted to throw the journals out.”
”I didn't want to. I told you. Not after I thought about it. If I did, it wasn't on purpose. I wouldn't do that.”
”But maybe you were right to do it. I have to stop obsessing so much about things I can't change, stop living in the past. It's taken a huge toll on me-on you-on all of us. I loved Kelly. I always will. But she's gone. And we're still here.”
”I loved her too, Gwyn.”
”I know.”
”I never wanted anything bad to happen to her. I didn't-even when I was hating her.”
”You don't have to explain.”
”No, I need to say this. You know how awful it was between us. She knew exactly how to get to me. I'm not sure why it started, except maybe she knew I wanted to be closer to you. Ever since we were small, there was a kind of compet.i.tion between us for your attention. Over the years, she and I did a lot of mean things to each other. After a while, I don't think either of us knew how to stop.”
”I should have done something.”
”I'm not sure it would have helped. Some things are so bad they can't be undone.”
”Do you want to tell me? Any of it ...?”
”No.”
”Wouldn't it help?”
”No. I don't want to speak ill of the dead. Kelly's not here to defend herself. And I don't want to make it real again.”
”I should have done something.”
”Well ... you didn't.”
The barbed retort stabbed at my heart, but I knew I deserved it. ”Linda, we've been drifting away from each other lately. I know a lot of it's my fault. I've been so preoccupied. But you don't call me like you used to. I feel like you're closed off somehow.”
”I called you yesterday.”
”I know, but it's so rare.”
”I'm busy, Gwyn. Good grief, I've been up to my neck with this remodeling, and then you bring up all this stuff about Kelly's letter, and-”
”No, before that, for a long time now.”
”I'll try to call you more often. Okay?”
”Okay.”
”Besides, as soon as I get that report, I'll be calling you immediately.”
I decided to drive over to Trevor's real estate office at lunchtime. He wasn't at his desk, so I did a quick survey of his quarters, then headed back into the main part of the office. The agency consisted of three rooms, a small reception area, a large open s.p.a.ce with four desks for the sales a.s.sociates, and Trevor's office.
On my way in, I'd walked past the reception area, which was devoid of a receptionist, then strode past the one lone agent, a beefy linebacker-type guy about twenty-five, s.h.i.+rtsleeves rolled up, elbows on his desk. He was inhaling a submarine sandwich, but stopped chewing as I pa.s.sed.
”Can I help you?”
I'd waved and smiled and kept on going.
But now I returned to question the man. ”Hi, I'm Gwyn Sanders, Trevor's wife. Do you happen to know where he might be?”
”Lunch, I think.”
”Yes, I was supposed to meet him, but I forgot where he said.”
”Really? Oh ... well you know, I'm not sure. Ask Molly. I think she's in her car out back. Molly keeps track of everybody around here.” He pointed to the rear door. ”She likes to eat her lunch out there.”
”Thanks,” I said. ”I'll go check.”
I saw three cars parked close together, but no Molly. Carefully, I stepped between the vehicles. Then, like a corpse arising from the dead, Molly popped into the pa.s.senger window of a tan Chevrolet. I stumbled back, landing on the adjacent car.
She rolled down her window. ”Sorry, were you looking for me?”
The girl wore thick gla.s.ses and a piece of food-probably bread-was stuck to her upper lip. As if aware of it, she quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin.
Not Trevor's type, was my first thought.
”I didn't mean to scare you,” she said. ”I dropped my pickle on the floor.”
”No problem. I'm looking for Trevor. I'm his wife, Gwyn.” I held out my hand to her through the open window. ”Sorry to bother you on your lunch break, but I'm supposed to meet him and I forgot where he said.”
”Trudo's.”
”Oh, that's right. Thanks. How long ago did he leave?”
”Half-hour ago, at least. Do you want me to call him?”
”No. I'll call. I should have before, but I don't want him to know I forgot where to meet. Silly.” I shrugged.
Molly smiled and raised her eyebrows, the window slowly rolling back up.
”Thanks again,” I said before it closed completely.
I rushed to my Jeep. Trevor would probably take a long lunch, and maybe, just maybe, I'd catch him with his amour of the moment.
Trudo's was packed.