“He’s gone to a lot of trouble to find you.”
“He’s all about winning. All about appearances. When I dumped him? It must have been like a slap in the face. It wasn’t part of his plan.”
“Thorpe has been caught. And if he’s the shooter, we’ll nail him for that too.”
“But does being caught normally stop domestic violence in your experience?” I knew the answer. I didn’t need him to tell me. “He’s a congressman’s son. They’re fabulously wealthy. The world operates according to different principles for him.” And when I’d been with him, the world had operated that way for me too. I hadn’t known how to pull all the levers available to people like them; Hartwell had pulled them for me. Was that why I’d stayed as long as I had? And did that make my staying better or worse?
“Principles or no, the most dangerous people are those who can’t understand that they’ve done something wrong.”
“I know. The world of finance is rife with them.” Every scandal, from Enron to the housing meltdown in 2008, was conceived in the minds of people who didn’t understand—or didn’t care—that they were breaking the law.
“If the shooter turns out to be someone else, at least we get Hartwell for violating the restraining order. Let’s hope for some jail time. Maybe that will scare him into compliance.”
“I’m a realist. If I don’t hope for anything, if I don’t want anything, then I can’t be disappointed.”
Leo harrumphed. “Maybe not, but are you happy?”
“Happiness is a luxury. It’s something I can’t afford.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d have to pay for it.”
“It doesn’t cost anything to—”
“It costs everything.” Only people who didn’t have to worry about money said things like that. “And besides, I can’t have what I can’t have. It’s axiomatic.”
“But most people have aspirations. Most people have dreams. Goals.”
“I do have goals. At this point in my life, I need them to be practical. I want to pay off my student loans.”
“That’s more of a necessity than a goal.”
“Right now, it’s all-consuming. When I have some breathing room, then maybe I can add some dreams to my list.”
“Why can’t you have both?”
“Because I made a Faustian bargain when I took out my student loans, and now I have to pay for it.”
He said nothing. But I could tell he wanted to.
“What?”
“You told me your MO is to smile and try to get along with people.”
“It is.”
“You’ve hardly smiled at me since I’ve met you.”
I gave him one just to show that I could.
“That’s better.”
When he parked along the curb in front of Mrs. Harper’s house, he told me he was spending the night again. I didn’t wait for him to get out of the car. I walked up the driveway in front of him, hoping to keep him from seeing I was crying. Was it anger? Regret? Exhaustion? I swiped at the tears before they could reach my cheeks.
My phone rang. My father.
“Dad. Hi.”
“Whitney? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I think I’m coming down with a cold.”
“Doesn’t sound like a cold. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” He didn’t know about Hartwell. Didn’t know there ever had been a Hartwell. I was going to tell him after we’d moved in together.
“Well. Just wanted you to know that everything was finalized. It’s all good.”
“What’s good?”
“The house. Everything’s signed. Gave the keys up today.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “No. Don’t be. It’s all for the good. It’s time. A family’s moving in. They’ll enjoy it. It’s a house for a family.”
It was a house for our family.
“Just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks. Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“Well. Love you too, sweetie. Take care of yourself. Proud of you.” He hung up.
A hand touched my shoulder.
I jumped. Whirled around to face—Leo. It was only Leo.
“Just wanted you to know that I’m here. I didn’t want to scare you.”
I tried to calm my racing heart. “Sorry. With Hartwell and everything—”
“No need to explain.”
I thought I’d escaped Hartwell. His sudden reappearance made it feel as if my life was rewinding, as if all the strides I’d made since I left him were for nothing. He was reeling me back in. Of all the bad choices I’d made in my life, he was the absolute worst.
What was it about him that had seduced me?
His confidence? The way he so conspicuously sought me out?
It was flattering. I could admit that to myself now. I had been flattered because he’d been part of the in-group. He was the king of the in-group. And for once, one of those people saw me.
Saw me.
Liked me.
Wanted me.
Everyone wants to be wanted; that’s our collective kryptonite.
And then someone showed me the pictures on Instagram. Of Hartwell with another woman.
Why did I take their word for it if I couldn’t recognize him?
I recognized the restaurant and I recognized the table he was sitting at with her. Because it was our table at our restaurant. And that’s what hurt the most.
Chapter 26
Leo was up before I was the next morning. He’d already made coffee. Already had a mug waiting for me at the bar.
“Do you have a ride-share app?”
I nodded.
“Do me a favor. Use it today, okay?”
“Sure.”
“For everywhere. Even to the library. I don’t know how long I’ll be tied up, but you can reach me on my phone.”
“Okay. And you can always check in with my phone. See where I am. Right?”
“I already do. On a regular basis. We changed your locks. Be smart about things. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” He walked out the door, paused. “Lock the door behind me.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
I got ready for work and was about to request a ride on my app when there was a knock on the door.
I levered off my shoes and tiptoed toward it. Bent so that anyone trying to look through the mini blinds wouldn’t see my shadow. Then slowly, carefully, I lifted the corner of one of the slats. Took a peek.
It was a woman. A pair of sunglasses was nestled atop her sculpted blonde hair.
I let the slat drop and opened the door.
“Are you Whitney?” She took a step over the threshold. I had no choice but to retreat.
I nodded.
“I’m Jessica Harper.”
Jessica. Jess. Mrs. Harper’s daughter. The one who swam in high school. The one who’d graduated from Washington and Lee University and then gone on to become a periodontist.
I offered my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you in person. How is your mom?”
She walked in. Put her purse on the bar and gave the room a glance. “Wow. This brings back a lot of memories. It’s a time capsule. You were so good to lease it like this. I brought Mom home from the hospital late last night so I stayed. Took forever for the emergency room to examine the X-rays and then put the cast on.”
“She’s out? I’m so glad! Is she doing okay?”
“She’ll be fine. But it’s hard for her to get around. She’s upstairs. I wanted to talk to you in private: I need you to leave.”
I blinked. “Leave?”
“Move. I need you to move out.”
“I’m sorry. Are you—” Had I heard her right? “Are you asking me to move out? Of here?”
“It’s a question of lifestyle. I saw your boyfriend leave this morning. When you signed the lease, it was my understanding that—”
; “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Then you’re subleasing? I’m really not comfortable with that.”
“I’m not subleasing. He’s a—” Did I really want to go into who Leo was and why he was in my life? It probably wouldn’t be very reassuring. “He’s just a friend.”
“Mom told me about the break-in.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“But the point is, Mom can’t have a tenant with questionable behavior living in her basement. Especially now. I thought you knew that when you signed the lease. I need someone stable. Someone reliable.”
“I don’t have questionable behavior. And I’ve been very reliable.”
“I can’t be worrying about my mother’s safety all the time.”
“You don’t have to. She’s perfectly fine. Perfectly safe.”
“Not with you living here. Apparently there was an incident at work too? That’s what she said the police told her.”
“The police didn’t explain it right.” Had they explained it at all? “She really has nothing to worry about.”
“You’re supposed to be watching out for her. That’s why you’re here. She’s not supposed to have to watch out for you. You were supposed to keep her safe.”
“I do. I try. And if you’re going to evict me, I need some time to find another place to live. You can’t just—”
“My mother’s safety is my primary concern. I know she likes you. But this isn’t going to work anymore. Not for her, not for me. She can’t live by herself. That’s the other reason you need to leave. Immediately. I’m going to take her back to my place and then try to sell this house. It’s time.”
Jessica lived about an hour away out in Loudoun County. “But this is her life. She has women’s club and bridge club and garden club and—”
“I’m sure she’ll be able to find plenty of other things to do. She had a heart attack back in March. If she had another one while she was living here by herself, it would kill me.”
And if her daughter made her move out to Loudoun, away from all her friends, it just might kill her. “Have you talked about this with her?”
“I’ve told her I’m taking her back with me for a few weeks. We’ll talk it over once she’s there. I don’t think it will be very difficult to convince her.”
Mrs. Harper was not going to like that. But what could I do? I was just her tenant. I wanted to think I was her friend. But I wasn’t her family. If her family was looking after her now, I needed to look after myself.
“If you’re going to break the lease, then I need to be compensated. I’ll need my deposit back as well as this month’s rent.”
“This is a question of safety.”
“It’s also a question of breaking a lease without any warning.”
“Have you paid the rent for this month? I could—”
“I always pay a month in advance. Those were the terms of the contract.”
“I’ll refund it, but you’ll have to wait until we sell the house.”
“That won’t work for me. I’ll just stay here until then.”
“You can’t. I don’t want you here if Mom’s not here. Please, don’t make this difficult.”
“Then please don’t violate the terms of the lease.”
She held up a hand as she turned away from me toward the door. “Fine.”
“And if I’m going to be made to leave, I’d like to talk to your mother before I go. She’s become a friend. I won’t leave without saying good-bye.”
She stood in the doorway for a long moment. Then she sighed. Shrugged. “We can go upstairs together. But don’t say anything that will upset her.”
We walked up to the deck and in through the kitchen door. “Mom?”
Mrs. Harper’s voice came floating out from the dining room. “Is that you, Jess?”
“It’s me. And I brought Whitney.”
We walked through the kitchen into the dining room.
“Whitney! Hello. I’m so sorry about you having to leave the apartment. I know this must be difficult for you.”
I leaned down to give her a hug. “I’m just glad I was here when you fell.”
As I straightened, Mrs. Harper took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I hope you don’t take any of this the wrong way. Jess just thinks I need to be smart about things. She’s going to take me out to her place. I’ll have this cast on for a while. And then I’ll have to go to physical therapy. It’s probably best. I hope you understand. You can see how it is.” She released my hand. “A nice girl like you? I’m sure you’ll be able to find something else.”
For under five hundred dollars a month? Where?
Chapter 27
I went back down to the apartment. Shut the door. Stood there trying to stop my thoughts from spinning. I had to vacate the apartment and I had to get to work. Simultaneously.
But how?
Where was I going to go? What was I going to do with my things?
I dragged my big duffel bag out from under the bed. Dug my reusable grocery bags out from under the bar.
At least I wouldn’t have to move any large furniture.
Except my bed.
And my dresser.
All the rest was Mrs. Harper’s.
I pulled my few remaining dishes from the cupboard and stacked them on the counter. Bundled up the dish towels I called my own and crammed them into a dented metal mixing bowl.
Dish soap? Laundry detergent? Toilet bowl cleaner? I’d bought them. I would take them. I set them next to the bowl. Added a stack of bath towels and sheets. And what would I do with my plants? It was too soon to tell if they were going to take root. Maybe I could leave them underneath the deck. Just until I found another place to live.
If nothing else, the ransacking of my apartment meant I had less to move.
Niggling at the back of my mind was the question of where on earth I was going to move to. But first things first.
I needed to leave.
And I needed to get to work.
I texted my manager, warning her I was going to be late. I told her it was police business. And it was. Sort of.
I pulled my clothes from the closet and crammed what I could into my dresser drawers. The rest I shoved into the duffel and garbage bags. The textbooks I hadn’t wanted to part with, my journals, and the books I needed for the bar exam went into the grocery bags.
And then I couldn’t put off moving any longer.
I texted someone I knew from law school, asking if I could spend a couple days at her place. On the couch or the floor or any other surface that might work.
Several minutes later she texted back that she’d moved. She was living in Austin now and hey, if I ever came to Texas, she’d buy me a beer.
I texted another friend from my old circle.
No response.
And that was the extent of my social network. All the other people I’d known had been friends of Hartwell. And the point of moving out of DC was to leave him behind.
I searched on my phone for storage units. There was one in the south part of the county that was running a special. I could use it for a month for twenty-five dollars. For the second month, the full rental rate would be applied. Surely by then I could find another place to live. If I could hire an extra-large ride-share, pay for the time to load and unload? Maybe I could take care of everything for less than a hundred dollars.
It was the best I could hope for.
How many nights could I afford at one of the old-time drive-up motels in Arlington? Three? Four? Not more than four. I didn’t know what the deposit might be at my new place.
I refused to think ahead to what—or where—that new place might be.
* * *
Arlington was the fourth-smallest county in the country. It was also among the top ten wealthiest counties in the nation. But if you lived in certain sections south of Arlington Boulevard, you’d never know it. It was in one of those areas that I found the storage company.
After assuring m
y driver that I would absolutely pay him for the time it took to rent the storage unit and then unload his SUV, he agreed to transport me. We also had to wait for the manager to unlock the gate so we could get to the unit. To access it we drove into an alley lined on both sides with units.
It wasn’t ideal—the doors to the units were roll-up/roll-down and accessed from outside—but it was cheap.
I found my unit number and then motioned the SUV forward. I unlocked the door and rolled it up, rocking onto my toes to give it a final push. The floor of the unit had been swept, but it still had a sort of indefinable scent, as if the ghosts of things stored there in the past weren’t yet at peace. Although the driver parked right in front of the door, unloading still took more time than I wanted.
I tugged my mattress from the SUV, pulling it toward me. Then I got underneath it, supporting it on my back. With a big heave, I tossed it toward the unit. The box spring was different. I tipped it out of the SUV and then progressed, inch by inch, toward the unit, trying not to scuff it. Once it hit the metal floor, I slid it in. Next came the dresser. I took the drawers out and moved them separately. Then I tackled the dresser itself. It wasn’t that heavy, but it was chest-high and awkward to manage. It scraped on the pavement as I duck-walked it into the unit. The boxes and bags and duffel were easy. I didn’t worry about organizing anything, but unloading still took about twenty minutes. And after that, I had to get back to the central part of the county for work.
* * *
When the rush at the coffee shop died down, I took a look at the community bulletin board by the entrance. You weren’t supposed to post housing or babysitting or other service offers. The store manager didn’t want to have any liability if things went wrong. Sometimes, however, they’d get posted when we weren’t looking.
But not that morning.
I called my university’s housing office. Asked if they knew of any available rooms or apartments. They gave me a few leads, but when I called about them on my break, they’d already been snapped up by the multitude of college interns who descended upon the city every summer.
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