“Did you try one of those grief support groups? My grandma went to one when Pops passed. Seemed to help her.”
“I went to one at the library in Willow Bay after I started with the therapist. Carrie made me go.” I exhaled a bitter laugh. “Lord, it was depressing. Some of those women had been there for years. I could tell they’d been rehashing their dead husbands’ lives for ages… meeting after meeting.” I smoothed my hair back off my face. “No way that was gonna work. But the therapist started me on an antidepressant and—” I broke off with a self-conscious shrug.
What the hell was the matter with me? Spilling my guts to a perfect stranger? Even if he was a close friend of Carrie and Liam, I shouldn’t be sharing intimate details of my life with him. I sounded as pitiful as those women in the grief group. God, I didn’t want to be that tragic figure. Not anymore.
“And what?” Will gave me an encouraging smile.
Was this guy for real? Why on earth was he interested in hearing an old widow’s tale?
I closed my eyes. My tension eased as the wine worked its magic. I was going to have to find some food pretty soon or I would pass out on the kitchen floor. Surely Carrie had something to munch on in this vast kitchen.
Almost as if he’d read my mind, Will said, “You could probably use something to eat. Why don’t I order us a pizza?”
“That’s okay. I’ll just find some crackers before I call a cab.”
“Oh come on, you need more than crackers, and I’m hungry too. Guido’s down the block makes a great hand-tossed and they deliver. I’ll order and then I’ll haul your trunk over here. It’s sitting in my living room. It arrived this morning and since Carrie had it expressed to me, Javier just had them put it at my place.”
“Oh, good God, she sent all those clothes here? I told her to just give them to a charity up there.” I rolled my eyes and rose to ransack the cupboards for something crunchy and salty. My first step wobbled. I clutched the granite counter to keep from falling on my ass.
Will was next to me in a heartbeat, his hand on my elbow, helping me back to the stool.
“Better get us both some food now. Wine on an empty stomach ain’t workin’.” He pulled his phone out and in a few short taps ordered a pizza online. “It’ll be here in about twenty-five minutes. Carrie’s gotta have something around here we can fill in with.” He went right to the pantry off the kitchen and came back with a bag of pretzels, a box of crackers, and a can of peanuts. A trip to the huge Subzero fridge produced two kinds of cheese, a couple of varieties of dip, and two bottles of water.
Reaching under the bar, he pulled out small paper plates and cocktail napkins that made me smile. They were imprinted with, Wine—it’s how classy people get trashed. It was pure Carrie Reilly. Will grinned, too, as he pulled lids off the dip and opened packages of cheese.
“Dig in.” He offered me the bag of pretzels.
What was the use of fighting it at this stage? Obviously, I wasn’t going anywhere in the next couple of hours. I was tired, hungry, and more than a little buzzed. The thought of a cab ride was bad enough, but another few hours at O’Hare? That simply was not going to happen tonight.
Okay, Carrie, you win this one.
The notes, the bear, the cozy apartment, and a kind, handsome neighbor could be construed as unfair tactics, but you win. I’m here. I’m staying.
At least tonight.
THREE
The pizza tasted incredible. I devoured two huge pieces, washing it down with the water. Carrie would’ve been delighted to see my appetite returning. She’d been enticing me with casseroles, huge fresh salads, and endless baked goods for months. When Will offered to open a bottle of Chianti he had at his place, I declined, even though it was tempting to simply drink until sleep overcame me. Dr. Benton would’ve frowned on mixing that much wine with the antidepressants, and besides, I had some thinking to do. Even though I’d resigned myself to staying the night, I still wasn’t sure I was going to unpack and settle in for the winter.
While we ate, Will told me a little about the places he’d been, arranging dates and venues for Liam’s summer tour in Europe. It was clear Will loved his job managing Liam’s career as a symphony conductor, and hearing about the different cities where Liam would be guest conducting orchestras gave me a sneak peek into Carrie’s summer. It was going to be wondrous—Athens, London, Munich, Paris, Rome, even Budapest.
Charlie and I had talked about doing Europe when he retired. I wanted to backpack, take the trains, and stay at tiny inns, but Charlie longed for luxury hotels, five-star restaurants, and a hired car and a driver. It didn’t matter anymore. We wouldn’t be touring Europe together.
Before he left, Will helped me clean up, which entailed tossing the paper plates and bottles in the recycle bin, rinsing out wine glasses, and closing up the pizza box so he could take it home. He even earned my grudging respect for not trying to manhandle my huge trunk all by himself. Instead he welcomed my assistance in bringing it across the hall. I couldn’t deny I felt better, so as he left. I thanked him more graciously than I’d greeted him earlier.
I had to grin as I locked the door behind him and heard him call, “The chain too, Jules.”
I latched the chain. Apparently, he was taking Carrie’s instructions to “keep an eye on Jules for me” to heart. I appreciated how he’d made the whole evening so easy with his relaxed manner and no probing questions about what I planned to do with my life. It was nice to simply listen to his travel stories and get out of my own head for an hour or so.
Switching off lights as I made my way back to the bedroom, I suddenly realized that I was probably tired enough to fall asleep without any help from the little pink pills. A shower sounded lovely, so as soon as I hit the bedroom door, I dug in my suitcase for my toothbrush, face wash, and soap. The canvas tote on the floor caught my eye and I remembered my cell phone was still turned off from the flight.
Whoops.
I powered it on and saw that I had five missed calls, three of which were from my oldest son, Kevin. I’d no more seen the list of missed calls than my phone rang, vibrating against my palm. Kevin. I answered it and tried to put some life into my voice. “Hey, honey.”
“Mom, thank God! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”
“I was flying today, remember? I’m at Aunt Carrie’s house in Chicago.” Unbuttoning my blouse, I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Well, where was your cell phone?” Kevin’s deep voice reminded me so much of Charlie’s, a pang pierced my heart.
“I just turned it back on. Sorry, I forgot to do it when I landed.”
“You need to keep it charged and on your person,” Kevin explained as though he were talking to a child. I guess dealing with me was great practice for becoming a father. “First of all, we all feel safer if you have it near. And second, I want to be able to get you if Meg goes into labor.”
“She’s not in labor, is she?” My heart speeded up. My first grandchild wasn’t due for another couple of months. “It’s way too soon.”
“No, she’s fine, she’s at work. I was just making a point.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll keep it close, I promise.”
“So, how was the flight?” he asked. “Was it tough? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. But it’s been a long day.” My jaw ached with the effort of holding back a yawn, so I gave up. All I wanted to do was shower and go to sleep. “Honey, thanks for checking on me. I’m going to turn in now, I’m just exhausted.”
“Mom, wait, please.” The concern in his voice traveled loud and clear across the miles between us. “Why don’t you come out here and be with us instead of spending the winter in Chicago? It’s warmer. We’ve got the sleeper sofa now. You can help us decorate the nursery.”
“I’ll come out when Meg has the baby, I promise.” I felt terrible letting him down, but it had taken all I had in me to make this trip. And I still hadn’t decided to stay. Putting on a happy face each day for my son an
d his family was more than I could do.
“Mom… “Kevin hesitated. “We love you so much. We’re worried about you.” His sweet tone brought tears to my eyes.
I couldn’t stand the thought of blubbering on the phone to the poor kid again, so I swallowed hard. “I know you do, baby. I love you too.” I put my hand over the receiver for a moment as a tear trickled down my face. “I’m good, l really am. I’ll call you in the morning and text you some pictures of this apartment, okay? It’s pretty incredible.”
We talked another minute or two. I convinced him all was well. They were so worried. The kids, Carrie, Liam, Eliot, Margie, and Noah. And even Will’s expression as he sat across from me eating pizza had the same concern. Everyone in my life was watching and waiting for me to reassure them that I’d be fine. For the first time in a year, that seemed like it might be possible, but for tonight, I just needed a shower and a bed.
Stripping off my clothes, I stopped as I passed the bathroom vanity mirror. Carrie was right; I did look like hammered shit. My cheeks were hollow. Shadows smudged purple under my eyes. My hair looked good though because I’d had it cut and highlighted right before I left. But when I leaned into the mirror, I saw silver strands among the darker blonde. And even though I had picked up a few pounds over the holidays, I was getting flabby. My breasts were starting to sag, the flesh of my arms wasn’t as firm, and my hip bones showed.
Charlie would be appalled. He was always so proud of my toned body and thick, shiny hair.
“You’re the ultimate arm candy, Jules.” I could hear his warm voice in my head.
Not any more, my love.
I straightened my shoulders as I clipped my hair up off my neck.
I knew I had to use this time in Chicago to figure myself out—to get a grip. When I sat in Dr. Benton’s office, it all sounded so very reasonable. Grieving was a process. I was stuck in that process. I understood that, but until now, I didn’t want to get a grip. Charlie’s death was still too raw, and my sorrow filled me up and wore me out. The antidepressants had helped—before I started them, driving to the grocery had been impossible, let alone flying to a new city. But even though the airports and cabs today had left me drained, for the first time in over a year, I was intrigued to see what tomorrow would bring.
Anger welled up inside me as I twisted sideways and eyed my nude body in profile. I’d spent all those months lying in bed, sucking down coffee and wine, missing Charlie so much I couldn’t even think straight. But it didn’t bring him back. Months of therapy had shown me one important thing—it was time for a change.
Turning away from the ghost in the mirror, I wrenched on the water and stepped into the cold shower. I screeched as it hit my body, but I needed that splash of icy water to remind me I was still alive. The water warmed up and I stood under the stream, allowing my tensions to drain away with the suds from the soap. It felt delicious and comfortable and… right.
In that moment, I made up my mind to stay in Chicago for the winter. Carrie and Liam’s building had a gym and a pool. I could work out, get my strength and muscle tone back. Carrie probably knew of a decent spa so I could have a facial and a body wrap. I’d call her tomorrow, or perhaps I’d bundle up and take a walk, try to find my way around the neighborhood. Maybe even go by the agency and see some of my old friends from the catalogue shoots. Sharon and Deb and Maureen had all been in the Macy’s spring and Christmas ads, looking as glamorous as ever. It would be fun to do lunch and catch up on their lives.
The bedside lamps cast a soft glow in the room as I pulled on my nightgown and got my Kindle and iPod from my carryon. Tossing back the covers, I plumped the pillows and slipped into the warm flannel sheets. Carrie hated flannel sheets. She’d put them on her bed especially for me. My lips curved up in a smile at how hard she’d worked to make the perfect welcome for me, and a twinge of guilt tweaked the back of my mind for being surly to her neighbor earlier.
Plugging the buds into my ears, I switched on the music. It was actually Charlie’s iPod. Mine was at home somewhere, maybe on the desk in the kitchen buried under a pile of magazines. The first thing on his playlist was Norah Jones, and I smiled as her sultry voice filled my head. We danced to “Shoot the Moon” when we were on Mackinac Island for our anniversary—it was the last time we’d danced together.
The memory was sweet, but not pulling me down into the abyss of despair that so many other memories had in the last months. That surprised me. Maybe I was getting better. Carrie had been so scared for me, worried that I might do something stupid, maybe try to join him. To be honest, the thought had crossed my mind one day not long after the funeral. But I’d shoved it away almost as soon as it had entered my head and instead, let sleep and wine dull the pain.
But after I’d started seeing Dr. Benton, when I finally found the courage to pack and make this trip, it was the beginning of acknowledging that Charlie wasn’t coming home ever again. I’d even agreed to let Carrie and Liam clean out his belongings from the bedroom closet and paint while I was in Chicago.
My thoughts turned to Will Brody, who had made the transition into my new life in Chicago just a bit easier tonight. Maybe it was all going to be okay. This trip might be a turning point.
Almost palpably, my grief had begun to subside.
FOUR
I hauled the suitcase onto the bed and with a grunt, unzipped it. Why in God’s sweet name had Carrie packed all these skirts, jackets, dresses, and shoes? Where the hell did she think I was going? It looked like she’d packed my entire wardrobe, but I knew my closet in Willow Bay was still half full. I had entirely too many clothes, although you’d never know it from my current appearance. Glancing down, I frowned at my yoga pants, white tank top, and comfortable old MSU hoodie.
When I’d arrived a few days earlier, I opened the trunk and unpacked several pairs of jeans and pants, hung up a few soft shirts, sweaters, and skirts. I pulled out a couple of pairs of comfy yoga pants, all my underwear and socks, and my swimsuit and put them in the drawers Carrie had emptied for me in her antique dresser. I’d found my favorite jogging shoes and my boots, plus a couple of other pairs of shoes that I loved. Now I had to figure out what to do with all the rest of the stuff she’d packed.
Things were going along pretty well so far. The apartment was huge, light, and airy and yet cozy, warm, and comfortable. Exactly what someone would expect Carrie’s home to be. Her spirit surrounded me here and made the transition from my house on the shore to this citified atmosphere surprisingly easy. The longing for Charlie’s house—for Charlie—was abating somewhat. Oh, I still thought about him several times each day, but I was focusing on getting to know Chicago and the neighborhood.
I’d made friends with Javier, the doorman—a charming fellow with a Frito Bandito moustache and fourteen grandchildren. He’d given me a grand tour that included the workout room and a wonderful lap pool in the basement of the building. I’d already swum an hour’s worth of laps twice, and my shoulders were screaming at me, but it felt so good to be active and moving my body again. If I kept up the physical exercise, I was sure I’d be able to cut back on the antidepressants. I’d found a great coffee shop that served an excellent white chocolate mocha just down the street from the apartment. I’d even made an appointment with the new therapist, Dr. Jardin. All in all, I was settling in. Carrie would be proud.
Will Brody had been friendly and helpful, checking in on me several times, giving me directions to the dry cleaners, the drugstore, and a little grocery on the corner that had incredible produce even though it was a typical bitter Midwest winter. I couldn’t help wondering what he did all day. Did he have an office or did he work from his apartment? We’d met in the pool once or twice when I gone down to swim even though I picked mid-morning to avoid the early birds. I tried to imagine what a symphony conductor’s manager’s job would involve, but all I came up with was what I already knew. He traveled to check out orchestras and venues, set up Liam’s schedule of appearances, and managed his
finances.
Maybe I could talk to Will about my finances. Carrie told me he used to be a stockbroker when I’d asked her about him earlier in the week. Charlie always took care of our money and according our attorney back home, I was okay. Charlie had left me well taken care of with life insurance and the investments he’d made. I’d always managed my own money from the modeling and my savings account was comfortable, but I was certain that the money could be working harder, plus the stock market had always fascinated me. I had some spare cash to play with, and Will might be just the person to give me some investing advice.
Later I planned to set up Charlie’s laptop on the table in the breakfast nook and try to figure out the wireless Internet connection. I’d brought his because it was newer, and I could put my hands on it quicker as I packed. I figured I could always call Liam or Will if I couldn’t get it to work, but Javier told me to use the building password and I’d be online in no time. I wanted to email the kids and give them my address here. My daughter, Renee, was in Africa with a group of nurses, and email was about the only way to communicate with her. Her twin, Ryan, was down at IU med school in Indianapolis. He had a crazy schedule, so texting was how he communicated. Kevin told me he’d sent me some pictures of Meg’s ever-expanding belly.
Yeah, I needed to get online.
Late afternoon sun streamed into the window making the apartment warm and snug even though it was only twenty-two degrees outside. I sorted clothes into stacks and then put them in boxes I’d grabbed from the shipping store down the street. Perhaps there was a charity or consignment shop nearby I could take them to. They were all gorgeous designer labels, most of them from catalog shoots—a little bonus for modeling the outfits. Plus Charlie had shopped like a damned fashion expert. He loved dressing me. Teased me constantly about learning my fashion sense from him. That probably should have offended my feminist sensibilities, but he did it with such charm, it was impossible to get mad. I didn’t need all these clothes now. Perhaps someone else could get some real use out of them. I made a mental note to call Carrie and find out where she took her things.
Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay) Page 2