Second Chances

by Bria Marche

  “I guess the firing squad is approaching,” Abby said reluctantly.

  “Good morning, ladies.” Lucille smiled as she walked through the door and bent down to give Abby a hug. “Sweetheart, we don’t live your life, and the good Lord knows it isn’t our place to judge. You’ve given me a beautiful home to live in, food in my stomach, and friendship. That’s all I need.”

  As each person entered the kitchen, where the group had congregated for coffee, Abby realized that not one person standing there held any animosity toward her or thought she owed them an explanation. The obvious two people missing were Erik and Brandon.

  “Has anybody seen Brandon this morning? Has he left already?” Abby could only hope she wouldn’t have to endure his wrath again.

  “He’s in his room slamming things around. It sounds like he’s packing. Drawers are opening and closing, and so is the closet,” Adam said as he squeezed into the mix of friends standing in the kitchen. Betsy passed a cup of coffee down to him.

  “Thank you all for being here. I know you don’t understand what’s going on, and maybe none of you care. I think I’m giving everyone a nice room to call their own, and Betsy has provided wonderful meals. The rent is very reasonable. What I’m saying is, I’d like all of you to stay, but you do deserve an explanation.”

  “That isn’t necessary, Abby,” Charles said, speaking up for the group.

  “I think it is, and I’ll give you the condensed version. Yes, my parents were wealthy. My dad was killed five years ago in a horrible mugging in New York, so it was just my mom and me. I’ll admit, I had a trust fund. I guess many kids coming from wealthy families do. I was naive two years ago and married a man from St. Thomas that my mom didn’t trust. She threatened to cut me out of the will if I married him, but I thought she was bluffing. Her instincts told her he was after my money, and she was right. Just a few months back, he took everything I had and disappeared.”

  Betsy filled all the coffee cups and started a fresh pot as Abby continued speaking.

  “Anyway, I came back to Charleston just recently because I was broke. My mom and I were making amends when she was killed. I had no idea she changed her will until the attorney in charge of the estate read it in front of me and four other people. Apparently, she left everything to these other four organizations. What she left me was this beautiful, expensive-to-maintain house but not a dime to pay the monthly bills. In thirteen years, when I turn forty, I can have the rest of my inheritance, whatever that is. Because this place cost a fortune in property tax, insurance, and the like, I had to do something. That’s where all of you came in. With Betsy’s insight and Mel’s help, we put the rooms up for rent. There were no other options since my mom also stated in the will that I could never sell the house.” Abby held her cup out for a refill. “The only reason I filed the wrongful death lawsuit was to have some money in reserves. I don’t even own a car, and I’d like to go back to school. So that’s it. Now you know the real truth instead of Brandon’s version. Thanks for listening.”

  They heard the front door slam. Adam walked down the hall and peered out the parlor window. Brandon was loading the trunk of his car.

  “Yep, looks like he’s leaving,” Adam said when he returned to the kitchen. “That will be a nice change. Maybe someone else will have a chance to talk at dinnertime.”

  The remaining residents sat down to breakfast, laughed at lighthearted conversation, and appeared to accept Abby’s story without question. They were there to stay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Two days had passed, and there was no word from either Erik or Brandon. Abby tried the doorknobs on both of their rooms, but they were locked. She had no idea how much of their belongings remained, but she did know that if Brandon didn’t send the key back within a week, she would have a locksmith open the door so she could empty the room. Whatever was left would be shipped to Andrews, Moore, and Luck. Abby would keep his security deposit for breaking the lease and prepare the room for a new tenant. As far as Erik was concerned, she just wanted him back. Without a physical job location, he would be more difficult to track down. His business card with the Orangeburg address written across it sat on her dresser. She’d let him make the first move. He’d come back for one of two reasons, either to pack the rest of his belongings or to talk. She hoped it would be the latter.

  She was sitting on the veranda with Betsy when the mailman called out. A certified letter had arrived, and Abby needed to sign for it. The mailman expressed his usual courtesies and handed her the digital signature device through the gate. Abby signed her name and accepted the mail.

  “What do you think that is?” Betsy asked.

  “I hope it’s the insurance check for my mom’s car. I don’t know what else it could be.” Abby tore open the envelope and exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I needed this check so badly. At least I have some breathing space for a while. I can pay the property tax now, and the rest can go in the bank.”

  “You should buy a car for yourself. It doesn’t have to be brand new. I bet you can find something reliable for ten thousand bucks.”

  “That’s a lot of cab rides, Betsy. There’s hardly anywhere to park another car on this street.”

  “Then how are you going to get to Orangeburg to check on Erik?” She smiled, knowing that would make Abby laugh.

  “Real funny, dork… I’m not going to chase him. If he wants the truth, he knows where I live. I swear, men are way too much trouble anyway. I might need a few years of only girlfriend time before I get serious again.”

  “Right… and who are you going to gawk at, now that the hot men are gone?”

  “Adam?” Abby said with a laugh.

  “Okay, crazy girl, are you ready for lunch?”

  “Sure.” The ringing phone in her hand made Abby pause. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve got to take this call.” The screen showed it was John Richmond calling from Magens Bay. “Hi, John. How have you been?”

  “Hey, Abs, I’ve been well. How are you holding up in Charleston? Are you able to get by now that you’ve settled in with tenants?”

  “It’s going okay. The insurance check for my mom’s car actually showed up today. That will help for the time being.”

  “Glad to hear it. I just wanted to update you with the island chatter going around.”

  “Really? What’s happening?” Abby sat back down on the veranda, crossing her legs on the chair next to her.

  “Well, it sounds like Remy has reappeared. People have seen and talked to him in St. Croix. Didn’t you hire a private investigator a few months back?”

  “Yeah, but once the will was read and I realized I was more than broke, I had to let him go.”

  “Yeah, I understand that. Anyway, people say they’ve seen him buzzing around in quite the expensive-looking speedboat. I guess he’s been showing it off and throwing wild booze parties. Sorry. It has to be hard to hear, but I thought you ought to know.”

  “Thanks, John. I’ll talk to my attorney and find out if I have any legal grounds against him, especially if he actually is in a US territory. I appreciate the call. Take care.”

  Abby helped Betsy prepare grilled cheese sandwiches, chips, and dill pickles for lunch. Adam and Lisa were home today, so the four of them ate in the backyard under the pergola.

  “The wisteria is growing fast. Isn’t it beautiful?” Lisa looked up, and everyone’s eyes followed hers. The vines were spreading across the top, creating a nice, shady canopy. Small clusters of lavender flowers were beginning to show up. “Next year, they’ll really look beautiful.”

  Abby thought about next year and wondered what life would be like. With no idea of what her future held, she ate her sandwich in silence.

  ***

  By the weekend, Abby still hadn’t received the key from Brandon. Saturday morning at nine o’clock, a locksmith was upstairs popping the door lock for Abby. She had him install a new lock while he was there. She entered the room and was surprised to find it r
elatively empty. Brandon must have started packing that fateful night after dinner. Only a few odds and ends remained, nothing that looked important, but Abby didn’t want him to have any reason to accuse her of keeping his property. She boxed up everything that was left in the room and set it aside to give to the mailman tomorrow. She would send it to the law firm with signature confirmation for her own protection.

  Betsy joined her in the room and began stripping the bed. “Have you heard anything from Erik?”

  “Nope, but I guess his room will be next. I’ll give him a few extra days. I’m really surprised he hasn’t come around. I’m sure plenty of his tools are still sitting in the basement. Don’t you think he needs them?”

  “I would think so.” Betsy shook the clean top sheet, and with a snap of her wrists, it draped perfectly across the bed. She removed the dirty towels and bedding and said she would be right back with the vacuum cleaner.

  Abby went back to her own room to strip the bed. She wanted to stay busy to keep from thinking of Erik every few minutes. She reminded herself to charge her phone while she cleaned the room. As she plugged in her phone, she discovered a text message Erik had sent an hour ago. Her heart pounded triple time as she sat on the edge of the bed to read his message. He asked if he could stop by tomorrow to pick up the rest of his belongings. He would return his room key then. Abby read the message four times. She had to think before responding. Tomorrow, everybody will be home, and he knows that. He wants to avoid having a serious talk with me in front of everyone.

  She typed out a response. “Meet me tomorrow at Eliza’s Secret Garden at noon. Let’s talk.” Abby had no idea if he would respond or not, but she felt it was worth a try.

  Within seconds, a text came in. Erik wrote, “Fine, but only for one beer, then I’m picking up my things.”

  She smiled at his written words and responded, “Okay.” I’m not letting you off that easy, mister. You’re going to hear me out first, she thought as she continued to clean her room.

  Her mood improved throughout the day. She was certain the explanation she’d give Erik tomorrow would smooth things over. Everyone else in the house seemed to understand. He’ll move back in after he hears the truth. Maybe there is hope for us after all.

  ***

  She sat in the courtyard of Eliza’s Secret Garden, gazing at the beautiful lush greenery in every direction. Man, this little cafe is just the most gorgeous place in Charleston. Smiling at every exotic flower and vine, Abby found herself snapping picture after picture with her cell phone. She remembered Erik’s expression when she introduced him to the secret treasure right in town. In a few years, the backyard at home might be this beautiful, too.

  A tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality. Erik stood next to her chair and said hello.

  “Erik, I’m glad you agreed to come. I was just remembering when we…”

  “Can we skip the stroll down memory lane for now and get to the point?”

  She wasn’t used to that attitude coming from someone as sweet and kind as Erik. It was a side of him she’d never seen before.

  “Sorry. Would you mind sitting down? You make me nervous just standing like that.”

  Erik glanced around and, with a wave of his hand, caught the attention of the bartender. He sat across from Abby and waited for the bartender to take his order. Abby already had a tall glass of sweet tea in front of her.

  “I’ll take a Black IPA,” Erik said as he made himself comfortable.

  “Erik, can I explain this mix-up to you? You don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “That’s right, I don’t understand.”

  The bartender delivered Erik’s beer and two glasses of water to the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “No, thanks, this should do it,” Erik said. “Here’s what I want to know, Abby. Why would you care about a grunt like me when you could be with someone closer to your own social status and income? You know, somebody like Brandon. You enjoyed going out with him, didn’t you? I mean, what’s not to like? He’s a decent-looking guy, has a nice car, loads of money, and took you to upscale restaurants. I bet it killed you to turn him down as often as you did just to keep me hanging on. What the hell is your game anyway? Tell me something. Was our romantic night in your bedroom nothing more than pity sex? You know, this was a mistake. I’m going to get my things and leave the key on the dresser. Please have the courtesy to give me a half hour. I don’t want to have this conversation with you again.”

  “But, Erik… I never got a chance to say anything. I want to explain my life to you.”

  “Save it for some rich guy.” Erik threw a twenty on the table and stormed away.

  She heard the squeal of tires heading down Meeting Street. In five minutes, he would be at Melrose Mansion, removing everything in the house that belonged to him. He would vanish into thin air, just as Remy Bellavance did months ago.

  She sat by herself at the table meant for two, watching couples enjoy each other, holding hands and sneaking quick kisses, oblivious to her stares. It didn’t matter. Young or old, they were together, but she was alone. Her loneliness felt the same as when Remy deserted her. Then, when she’d sit on the beach at Magens Bay alone, it was only the gulls mocking her and having the last laugh.

  Walking home would do her good. It would also allow Erik plenty of time to gather his things and be gone by the time she got there. Normally, she enjoyed the distractions when she strolled the historic district. Beautiful homes in every style and color always gave her a reason to smile, but today she felt sad. Still, the courtyards and hidden gardens, the ironwork and history of Charleston were among the reasons she loved the city. South Carolina was home, always was and always would be. Charleston was her heartbeat, and St. Thomas was the vital air she needed to breathe.

  She arrived at the intersection of Meeting Street and South Battery. Abby made a quick stop at Two Meeting Street, the beautiful inn on the corner, to say hi, then continued on. A look straight down South Battery on both sides would tell her if Erik was still loading his van. If he hadn’t left yet, she would wait in the park until he did. She could easily blend in with the tourists, and he’d have no idea she was there. But he was gone. She punched in the code and opened the creaky gate. As she passed through, she made a mental note to squirt WD-40 on the hinges. The house was quiet. Abby peeked around the corner of the kitchen, through the screen door, and saw everyone sitting on the patio. She smiled and went upstairs, and she had to pass Erik’s room to go to her own. His door was ajar, and she stopped to look in. The key lay on the dresser just where he said it would be. And the room stood empty. No clothes in the dresser or the closet, no indication that a man, a wonderful Scandinavian handyman, had slept there. Abby sat on the bed, her hand on his pillow. She lay down, squeezing the pillow in her arms, inhaling it and hoping to catch his scent. None remained. He hadn’t slept there for a week.

  ***

  The clock in the library chimed on the half hour that Wednesday afternoon. Abby glanced up as she was signing checks for the monthly bills. It’s four thirty already? Geez, where did the day go? Her cell phone rang out. Attorney Lewis was calling.

  “Hello, Attorney Lewis.”

  “Abigail. I just received a letter in the mail stating the insurance claim we filed has been denied.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said as she rubbed her temples. “Do we have any other options, and is this a contingency fee case, or do I have to pay you an hourly fee?”

  “Well, that’s the other reason I called. Since they denied the suit instead of settling it, I’ll have to begin charging you if we go forward to fight it. There’s a lot of work I’ll have to put in with no guarantees of success.”

  “What is your hourly rate?” she asked as she inserted the check and statement in the envelope for the electric bill. She attached a stamp that read Celebrate across it. Humph. What do I have to celebrate?

  “Well, my dear, it’s three hundred fifty dol
lars an hour.”

  “What about suing Mr. Hanson’s personal auto insurance company instead? Would we have a better chance at winning a claim?”

  “We probably would, Abigail. Of course, you aren’t looking at millions of dollars like you would be with a wrongful death suit.”

  “Right, but you don’t sound very encouraging about the outcome on that. What could I possibly expect with an automobile insurance claim?”

  “It depends on Mr. Hanson’s policy, but the average death claim is normally settled for around three hundred thousand dollars. If I represented you on contingency, I’d get a third of the settlement.”

  “Seriously, how do attorneys sleep at night? Whatever… let’s go in that direction instead. I can’t afford to pay you three hundred fifty dollars an hour with no guarantees of success.”

  “Very well, I’ll get the ball rolling immediately. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dinner was in the slow cooker. Abby had convinced Melanie and Betsy to go out tonight, just the three of them to Beaufort for dinner. Everyone else could help themselves to pork roast, potatoes, and carrots whenever they were hungry. Abby made reservations at Petrie’s overlooking the Harbor River for seven o’clock. If they felt like it, they might even stay overnight. Melanie left work early and didn’t have to work tomorrow anyway since it was Saturday. Beaufort was one of Abby’s favorite small towns with its genteel residents and beautiful river walk. She could dial life back to a slower pace there and relax. The urge to get away and spend a little money just that once gnawed at her. She had been pinching pennies for months.

  She and Betsy waited outside, their overnight bags packed, just in case, watching for Melanie to pull up. The plan was to leave right away since it was an hour-and-a-half drive. Three bottles of iced tea and a bag of trail mix sat on the table between the women as they waited.