Lorna dropped the curtain and returned to the lobby. The comment was strange, but no stranger than Lorna talking to herself when she was alone.
Seeing the last of the girls leaving, she went to lock the entrance door with the digital bell. It was the only one that could have been opened from the outside. The rest had security handles, which were long metal bars across the front that allowed people to leave but not reenter.
Lorna’s knee ached, and she decided she should probably check the damage and wrap it before going to the storeroom. Now that she was alone, she allowed herself to limp toward the door to her apartment. The stairs were located next to the office and she peeked inside to glance at the security monitors. The soft glow showed an empty lobby in an otherwise dark room. Thank goodness the workday was almost over.
Chapter Three
Lorna lifted the curtain and leaned against the exposed brick of her apartment wall, careful not to flash her skimpy cami top at those below. With the way the apartment was situated over the theater’s lobby, there was only room for windows along the one wall. Traffic from Main Street sounded muffled and distant even though she watched it through the window. At nine in the evening, everything on the block was closed except for a Chinese restaurant, which accounted for most of the cars. Incidentally, their crab Rangoon accounted for about five of Lorna’s newly discovered pounds. They were addictingly good fried pieces of heaven.
She thought about calling in an order but wore pajama pants and had no desire to change. Plus, the giant bruise discoloring her knee indicated she should probably elevate the limb and take it easy.
The phone rang as she held it to her ear. Nicholas’ phone had gone to voicemail. Jennifer had answered but was getting ready for a date and had to go. And now Jacob wasn’t picking up. After several rings, she hung up the phone. The fact her kids all had lives was a good thing. They should be busy in their twenties. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss them.
She dropped the curtain and hobbled toward the queen-size bed where red wine waited for her on the small table she used as a nightstand. The place had come simply furnished in a farmhouse loft style. The exposed red-brick walls had remnants of a logo painted on it in faded white. Some of the letters were rubbed off but it looked like it would have read, “Warrick,” after the original owner, Julia. The brick complemented the reclaimed wood of the table and dressers. An apothecary cabinet lined one of the walls near the stairs. The small drawers were more decorative than useful for storage. Some of them wouldn’t open.
Aside from a bathroom, closet, and a frosted glass partition that somewhat blocked her bed from the rest of the living area, the apartment was one big open space. A kitchen with an island and barstools was next to the stairs. There was barely room for a small table beside a window in what could have been a dining area. Next came a living room configuration with a built-in bookshelf, then finally her bedroom area. Since she didn’t own a television, reading and playing on her cellphone was about all the entertainment she could afford. The theater screened older movies, never new releases, but she watched them all for free.
The apartment didn’t resemble her old life at all. Her home in Vermont had been floral wallpaper and shiny dark wood, vases, and pictures of gardens. All her plates and drinkware had matched and her liquor cabinet had been locked up tight.
She sat on the edge of the bed to take the weight off her knee and grabbed the wine bottle off the nightstand and poured more merlot into a stemless glass. As far as a painkiller went, the alcohol was only beginning to do the trick on her leg. The wine wasn’t her favorite. It had absorbed a little too much oak from the barrel during the aging process. Glenn had always teased her about having cheap tastes.
Lorna hated that he was on her mind tonight. Even three years later, the grief and pain would roll up on her like a wave and she’d feel it trying to pull her under. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t just mourn a husband of twenty years and work through that grief. She had betrayal and lies added on top of it. Her entire life had been a lie, and as a consequence, every family memory tainted. She couldn’t even think of her children without that bitterness lining the edges. Bitterness, sadness, rage, she felt them all.
How did she not see it?
How did she not see through him?
Was there a hint? Some night at work that went a little too late? An unanswered disappearance? Should she have been suspicious of work travel? He always called her when he was gone to check in. Lorna had never been a suspicious or jealous partner. Frankly, with three kids she’d never had the time.
“I didn’t even suspect an affair, let alone a whole ‘nother wife,” Lorna said to the empty room. Her words were a little slurred, but she didn’t care. Wine splashed out of her glass down her cami top to form a red stain.
A hot tear rolled down her cheek and she rubbed it away before taking a long drink. She didn’t want to cry, not anymore, not for him, not about him. She imagined all the times she could have cheated on Glenn if she had been so inclined—a guy in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, a waiter at a restaurant, the tow truck driver who picked her up on the side of the highway. They had all tried to flirt with her. Sure, the tow truck driver had been in a coffee-stained dingy white t-shirt and smelled like stale chips and old sweat, but he would have had sex with her.
Did she even remember how to flirt?
Who in Freewild Cove would she even try to flirt with?
Her eyes went to the faded “Warrick” painted on the wall. William.
She had a good thing going here. Coming onto the boss’ brother didn’t sound like a smart move. But… that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about his muscular chest and rough construction worker hands. Mm, and that smile and those eyes. She couldn’t decide if she thought they were overly serious or seductively smoldering. Could a gaze be both?
Lorna caught her reflection in a mirror on the other side of the room. She’d highlighted her naturally brown hair with hints of reddish blonde in an effort to blend the white that began to show along the sides of her forehead. Strands had fallen free of the messy bun at her nape. She rubbed her cheek only to push up at her temple to watch her face temporarily lift into a more youthful appearance. It created a subtle change to her features. Most of the time age didn’t bother her, but tonight she felt old and worn.
She crossed back to the window with her wine glass, peeking through the opening at passing headlights.
“I didn’t want this town to know about you, Glenn. I wanted a place away from the gossip.” Lorna dropped the curtain and frowned, feeling isolated and alone. She thought about the offer for drinks but knew the questions that would inevitably follow were best avoided when she was in this mood.
Her gaze drifted to her empty ring finger and then to the wall with the antique apothecary cabinet. In a drawer, three from the top and two from the right, she’d hid a small box. Without forethought about what she was doing, she crossed the room, setting her wine glass down on the kitchen counter. A wooden ladder on a track system had made the drawers accessible at one point. The ladder was missing, so she had to use a step stool.
Lorna climbed onto the short stool and leaned her weight on her uninjured leg as she lifted onto her toes to dig inside the drawer. It was too high to see inside. Her fingers bumped the jewelry box, but it slid out of reach. When she tried to feel her way after it, she lost her balance. She grabbed the edge of the wood drawer, trying to stop her descent.