The drawer held for a second, just long enough to shift her weight so she could catch herself on her good leg when she fell off the stool. The drawer came with her, sliding out of its hole. She caught it against her chest as she stumbled. Pain shot up her thigh at the inelegant landing.
“Oh, crap!” Lorna swore. She hopped toward the sofa, dodging the oval coffee table, and fell more than sat on the cushions. She placed the drawer next to her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and her head swam a little from the alcohol. She closed her eyes and held her head as she waited for the sensations to subside. “That was stupid.”
Lorna dropped her arm, bumping the drawer. Without looking, she pulled it onto her lap and felt inside. Her finger knocked against the jewelry box.
“Maybe that Vivien woman is right. I’d love to resurrect his cheating ass just to kick him in the balls.” She contemplated her sore knee, wondering how hard she could strike. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes.
For some reason, she always expected the wedding band to be tarnished, not as shiny as the day she’d taken it off. She slid the cold metal onto her left ring finger, stared at it on her hand, and then moved it to the widow’s ring finger on the right side. Neither felt right. Maybe she should have sold the sad symbol for whatever couple of bucks that gold went for these days at a pawn shop. Could a person pass on the bad luck from a marriage to another bride? It didn’t seem worth the risk. The only place that seemed right was away in a drawer.
She took off the wedding ring, telling herself she wasn’t that person anymore.
When she dropped the jewelry box back inside, a second ring caught her attention. It wasn’t hers. The ring had been stored without a box. An imprint in the dust at the bottom of the drawer indicated it had been there for some time. The dust had settled into the engraving. The antique metal setting needed polishing.
Lorna pulled it out and blew on it before slipping it onto her forefinger. A large black stone formed a perfect oval. She buffed it against her pajamas. On closer examination, the jewelry did not appear as tarnished as she’d first thought.
Lorna placed the drawer on the coffee table and rested her head on a throw pillow. She hooked her sore knee over a cushion and pulled at her pajama leg until the bruise was exposed. The discoloration had begun to take on a definitive shape. It curved around the peak of her kneecap like a moat around a castle.
The bottle of wine had accomplished its goal. Her vision blurred and the pain wasn’t as bad as before. She placed her finger with the new ring against her leg to compare its dark color to her injury. Her hand tingled but she barely noticed. With a frown, she swiped her hand over the bruise and whispered, “Just go away. I don’t have time to be injured and I can’t afford a doctor. The theater is booked solid. Why can’t everything just be as it should?”
The brush of her hand appeared to act like an eraser. Warmth radiated along her thigh and calf. One second the bruise was there, and the next it disappeared as if the injury had never happened.
She poked at it, expecting pain. Instead, her finger bounced lightly over healed flesh.
Lorna frowned and dropped her leg so that it lay flat. Disappearing bruises? Not likely. More like blurred vision. The alcohol content of the wine must have been stronger than she first thought. Her body felt heavy and her mind numb. Exhaustion snuck up on her fast. She blinked several times, unable to keep her eyes open. At least the pain was gone. Now all she wanted to do was sleep.
Chapter Four
“Your knee looks like it’s feeling better. I’m glad it wasn’t anything serious.”
Lorna glanced down from the stepladder at Heather and automatically handed her the bag of large popcorn buckets to restock the concession stand. “I guess rest really is the best medicine.”
That and a bottle of red wine, apparently. She’d woke up dazed, confused, and sprawled on the sofa. She barely remembered going to sleep.
Lorna climbed down from the ladder to grab hot dog buns and the frozen soft pretzels she’d taken out of the freezer to thaw.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think it was an excuse not to come out with us last night,” Heather said. Before Lorna could respond, she quickly added, “But I know better.”
“I don’t think I would have made good company, honestly.” Lorna gave a small sigh. “I ended up throwing myself a bit of a pity party.”
Heather’s expression turned into one of concern. “Did something happen?”
“I think I was just feeling old. My leg was hurting. I was alone. I started thinking of all the past nonsense in my life and…” Lorna shrugged, consciously not adding the fact none of her kids had been available to talk to her. How could she complain about that to a woman who had lost her son? At least she knew her kids were safe and healthy.
“Yeah, I’ve had those nights. Add a couple of cranberry vodkas and sad movies into the mix and I turn into a real self-pity-party mess,” Heather admitted.
“Red wine for me last night,” Lorna said. “A whole bottle. I’d never had the brand before and it must have been a strong one because I barely remember falling asleep on my couch.”
Heather gave a small laugh and nodded. “We still have some time before the ballet recital tonight. Let me know if you need to rest. I can finish stocking the concessions.”
“You have to be the nicest boss in the world, but honestly, I feel amazing.” Lorna pushed through the storeroom door and held it open. Heather followed her. “When I woke up nothing hurt, it looked like I had sleep-cleaned my apartment, and I felt… just better.”
Actually, that cleaning part had been weird. She remembered pulling out a drawer from the apothecary cabinet to look at her wedding ring, but the drawer had been returned to its home. The step stool had been righted and put away. The bottle was in the trash, her wine glass cleaned, and even her bedding smoothed.
“I must have done my laundry too,” Lorna said. “Either that or cleaning elves live in the walls.”
“If that’s true, can I borrow a couple of them? I just found out one of my tenants has been hoarding pizza boxes stuffed with old newspapers in his basement.” Heather gave a small shudder. “Evidently, they make for the perfect stacking storage and creating a home for rodents.”
“What are you going to do? Evict him?”
“I have grounds, but he doesn’t have family around here that he can go to and is on a fixed income. I finally convinced him to let me bring in a cleaner once a week to help. She’ll keep an eye on him and make sure he’s eating something other than pizza.” Heather sighed, looking tired. “Between us, after property taxes and whatnot, if I use what’s left of his rent payments for the cleaners that place will maybe break even. I just hope none of the other tenants get wind of it and want the same service.”
“That’s extremely kind of you,” Lorna said.
“It is what it is. He’s a nice man. If I’m ever in his place, I’d want someone to do the same for me.” Heather shrugged in dismissal before changing the subject. “But, hey, maybe lay off that brand of wine if you don’t remember doing all those things. That’s concerning.”