Lorna shook her head in denial. “Not that I can think of. The concessions order came today so as soon as the girls are gone, I’ll be in the storeroom unpacking.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be in the theater on a ladder if you need me.” Heather shoved the notepad into her pocket and made her way past the curtain into the theater. Brighter lights came on, shining through a part in the thick red material. Lorna went to follow her to ask if she needed help with the ladder but stopped as Heather lifted her hand toward an empty seat and mumbled, “Hi, Grandma. How are you today?”
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, try
ing to stop her descent.
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.”
Lorna nodded. “Agreed.”
They set the supplies on the counter. Lorna began unpacking and putting them into their places. Heather grabbed a bottle of window cleaner and wiped down the front of the candy display.
Noticing the ring on her forefinger, Lorna held up her hand and said, “I found this last night upstairs. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t yours.”
Heather leaned over the counter to look at it and shook her head. “Not mine. It’s pretty, though. Might have belonged to a past tenant. I say finders-keepers. It suits you.”
“That’s good because I think it’s stuck on my finger.” Lorna gave it a small tug to emphasize her meaning.
“You know, that’s strange. I found a ring after I got home last night. I was taking receipt boxes from the top of my office closet so I wouldn’t forget to get my paperwork over
to the accountant this week, and the ring fell on my head.” Heather searched the pockets of her flannel shirt before digging into her jeans. She pulled out a delicate white-gold band with a small, dark stone. It had hooked onto the tip of her finger. “I planned on dropping by the jewelers to get it cleaned.”
“That is a random coincidence.” Lorna came around to look at the ring. “It looks pretty clean to me.”
Heather held it up and hummed. “So it does. I would have sworn it was dirtier.” She pushed it fully onto her forefinger and lifted her hand for inspection. “Cool. Now we’re both trendy.”
“Practically teenagers,” Lorna said.
Heather shook her head. “Ugh, you couldn’t pay me to be a teenager again—all those hormones and angst. I miss the energy, but it’s like they say, youth is wasted on the young. If I could find my past self, I’d tell her maybe fewer paranormal novels and more math. You’re not starting a coven, but you’ll save a ton of money not hiring an accountant.”
“A coven?” Lorna chuckled. “Did you and Vivien try to recruit help for your spells?”
“Why? Are you looking for a new hobby?” Heather teased.
“Maybe. Got a spell to take five pounds of fried crab Rangoon off my hiney?”
“The ones from across the street?” Heather moaned. “Those things are evil, aren’t they?”
“I can’t stop eating them,” Lorna admitted.
“You look great. I wouldn’t worry about those five pounds.” Heather lifted her forefinger studying the ring. “I wish I could remember where I got this. Maybe my ex bought it for me? I’ll have to ask him the next time I talk to him.”
“Do the two of you get along?” Lorna asked.
“We didn’t part ways because we didn’t love each other.” Heather took a deep breath. “I’d rather not talk about my divorce.”
Second Chance Magic Page 3