by Grace Greene
I stood in the open doorway, my hand against the gray stone, and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside.
As the interior took form and its dirt floor and beams and stairs became recognizable, I imagined potter’s wheels and maybe easels filling the open space. They would need to be movable or at least spaced right to keep the area flexible for multiple uses. It was all running through my head: the visions, the setups—I could almost see the women who’d be using the equipment. Maybe a few men, too, as Will had reminded me. And of all ages. Some bent over the pottery wheels. Some standing in front of those easels.
What else? I didn’t know. The loft areas above might be great writing spaces or reading havens for individuals. Garret-like. Maybe with a small desk and a chair, plus a comfy chair in the corner.
I was standing there, staring above at the light coming in through the high windows and imagining that comfy chair, when a voice came from behind me—and every good feeling inside me came to a grinding halt in a jarring crash as Victoria said, “Hey, there, Kara.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In disbelief, I turned toward her voice. Victoria. She was wearing black slacks, an off-white blouse, and her favorite heels. A large rectangular package was in her arms. She hugged it to her chest almost like a shield.
My stomach lurched as I put one hand on the nearest object—the wooden stair railing to the loft above. “You aren’t welcome here, Victoria.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I need to talk to you about what’s going on between us.”
I shook my head. “There’s nothing between us, and I don’t care what you need.”
“You do care. You wrote.”
“I wrote, and I made it clear in my note that I didn’t want anything more to do with you. Ever.”
“I read between the lines. The subtext. I read that you were uncertain, maybe even regretted what had happened the last time I was here. For both of us, for our peace of mind, we need to have this conversation. Calmly. Privately. To clear the air.” She paused and added, “I wrote you back.”
“I told you not to respond to my note.”
“Did you get my letter? You did, didn’t you? I can tell by your face. But you didn’t open it, did you?”
I ignored her question. “You came here last week.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, placing her chin lightly on the top edge of the package she was clutching. “I came to face you, to have this conversation. I lost my nerve. I left.”
“Yet here you are today.” I tried to sneer as I spoke.
“I didn’t cheat with Niles. You know that. I know you know, because if you believed I had, then you wouldn’t have written to me at all.”
My jaw ached. I wanted to reach up and massage the joint, but that would be a gesture of weakness.
She said, “I may not have handled the situation in the best way, but I truly was trying to get Niles to clean up his act and talk to you honestly. I was trying to play along and cajole him. You know how he could be. He never took criticism or instruction well. But my intentions were good.”
“Go away, Victoria.”
She crossed her arms. “I know that you don’t want to hear this. It’s easier, more comfortable, for you to believe that I’m the villain and that you were wronged. But when it came to you and Niles, I was trying to be a friend to both of you.”
I shook my head and looked away. I stalked past, moving quickly out of the carriage house and toward the terrace and back porch. I was too close to losing my temper.
She was right on my heels. “Wait, Kara. Please. Talk to me.”
My arms were as tightly crossed as they could be and still allow me to breathe.
“Get away from me.” My voice was low and harsh, and I turned my back to her again. I’d reached the terrace. Not much farther to the house.
“Please, Kara. They fired me.”
That stopped me. I refused to look back at her. “None of my business. Not my concern.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly a firing, but it was the same thing. You know how it goes. The layoff with a severance? Not a great severance, but something. I gave up my apartment in Northern Virginia, and I’m moving back to Richmond.”
I threw back my head and laughed. An ugly laugh. Where had I learned it? No idea. But the sneer was real this time as I turned back toward her.
“Nowhere to go? Oh, but Kara is so stupid and naive, right? You thought you could make up with me. Did you think you could weasel your way back into my home? You were a guest before, but you’ll never be a guest here again.”
“No,” she protested. “I don’t want to come back here. Well, I would, but only if you wanted me to. And I couldn’t stay long even then because I have to find a job, and there’s nothing out here in the country, as you know.”
Oblivious. Sheer self-centered, oblivious arrogance. There were no other words that could come close to describing Victoria. And yet we’d been friends, once upon a time.
“I’m sorry you lost your job. Maybe you should’ve tried harder. I recall you lied to your boss to get out of work more than once.”
“Ouch. That was to attend your dinner party right after you and your dad moved in here. To be here to support you.” She shook her head. “And again when he died. To be here to help.” She squeezed her eyes closed. When she opened them, she tried again. “You’re still angry. I understand. You want to hurt me because of that. Go ahead. I goofed big-time, and I’ll accept whatever fault you need me to.” She held out her arms and extended the package toward me. “I brought a gift. Call it a housewarming gift, an apology, or a peace offering.”
With the unfortunate timing that could only be achieved by sheer bad luck and perfect innocence, Will entered the electric, rarefied space between Victoria and me. I saw his face change as the charged air hit his flesh. His shoulders went back. His hands were suddenly open and ready. Whatever he’d intended to say was forgotten.
“Is something wrong?” He looked at me when he asked it.
I forced my aggression down, mentally pushing it away. This ugliness didn’t need to be on display for others. Not to anyone except Victoria. And she’d soon be gone.
“Not a problem. We’re good.”
Victoria interjected, “Are we? I don’t think so.” But she kept her voice soft.
Again, I saw Will react. He was picking up on more than could be seen and heard. “Are you sure?”
I nodded and forced a small smile. The smile felt false, but it was all I could manage. “We’re fine.”
“Okay, then.” He looked doubtful. “Call out if you need me. I’ll stay nearby.”
Victoria looked astonished as Will left us. She said, “Unbelievable. Doesn’t he know that you’re the dangerous one?”
“Dangerous? I’ve never touched a hair on anyone’s head in anger. I don’t even like to squash insects.”
“There’s a lot more to dealing out pain than fists, Kara. People admire you. They see you as a role model. But when they fail—fall short—one look from you, and . . . they know they’re done, banished from your life forever.”
“I’m not the one who caused the problem, Victoria. That’s all on you. On you and Niles, too, maybe. But not me. Don’t try to shift the blame. I refuse it.” I crossed the terrace and climbed the steps to the porch. Without pausing, I went straight inside the house, closed the door, and locked it.
Taking a quick second to stop and breathe, I then went to the kitchen window. Victoria was standing out in the yard and staring up at the house. She looked . . .
I tried to pin the word down. Sad? Annoyed? Arrogant?
Not my problem. I just wanted her to look gone.
Over the next couple of hours, I peeked out the windows, but casually, so Chip wouldn’t wonder. He was a quiet, pleasant young man who focused on his work and showed no curiosity. I was glad the confrontation had happened in the backyard. Chip wasn’t
even aware of it.
When I was finally convinced she’d left, I began to relax. I was shaky, though. Too much adrenaline. I didn’t feel good about what had happened, but I was pleased I’d controlled myself. I’d held my ground.
I wished I’d seen her drive away so I’d know for sure.
Will’s truck and a car were still parked out front. There’d been two cars, aside from mine, out there earlier. One now. Lon was still here, so the car was probably his. Neither of the cars had looked remotely like Victoria’s, but one was gone, so Victoria must be too.
As I pulled my hand away from the window, I saw it was still shaking. Surprised, I tucked my hand under my arm and hugged myself. My phone rang. It drew me away from the window. I was grateful for the distraction.
Nicole said, “I want you to meet some people.”
“Who?” But I already knew. “You’re talking about those craftspeople and such?”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Your voice sounds odd. A little . . . I don’t know. Just odd. Strained.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good to hear.”
“The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know.”
“Then let’s work on that.” She hung up.
She hadn’t said when. Maybe that was just as well given my present mood.
Will came to the door a short time later and knocked. “Is everything okay?”
He meant Victoria and the scene he’d walked into. I knew that.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” I smiled to show it was nothing. I shifted the focus by changing the subject. “It’s looking good outside. I’m thinking I might want a picnic area. You know, like with a table and a grill, over there under those pines near the parking area.”
“Excellent idea and easy to do. But I was talking about your visitor today. I wouldn’t have told her where you were if I’d known there was a problem.”
“I thought she’d come around to the back on her own.”
“She was on the porch. She asked if you were home. Sorry if I put you in an awkward or unpleasant situation.”
“No, Will. You did right. She and I . . . we’re old friends, but we had a falling-out a while ago. You couldn’t possibly know that.”
Relief relaxed his expression. “Yeah, that happens. Friends fall out and make up and all that.”
I shook my head, but kindly. “I don’t think we’ll ever make up. I’m sorry you were caught in the middle, even a little bit.”
Will smiled. It lit up his face. “Well, if you’re okay, then I’ll head off. Lon too. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.” I smiled, waved, and closed the door gently, then leaned against it, feeling drained.
After they left, the only car in the driveway was my own.
I faced the empty house. Sometimes it felt open and full of potential. A house of dreams. At other times it felt claustrophobic—full, but full of emptiness crowding out the good stuff. The house didn’t change. It was me. I was the variable in the equation. And right at the moment I was emotionally exhausted.
I prepared a simple supper, and after eating I went out to the front porch and saw a car had returned.
Will had said they were leaving. And the vehicles had all left.
Uneasiness rolled over me. My stomach clenched, and my supper, though light, felt like a brick.
I was overreacting. Get a grip, Kara, I told myself. You’re overthinking this.
Seconds passed. Then a minute, and then two. During the time I’d been standing out here, I hadn’t heard a breath or a step except my own. There was plenty of light left in this summer day. It was possible that one of Will’s guys had returned to finish a task or two.
I walked softly along the porch, scanning the grounds. No one. Nothing.
Coward, I called myself. Chicken. You know what this is about. Victoria.
I descended the porch steps and went to the car. I looked in through the side windows. It was older but very clean. It was empty except for a duffel-type bag on the back floorboard and a coffee cup in the cup holder between the front seats.
The birds were surely singing, and the squirrels must have been scampering through the tree boughs, but I heard none of that. I was focused solely on where Victoria might be hiding.
Hiding? No, not hiding but lying in wait. She was like those annoying little dogs that set their teeth into your pants leg or your ankle—not big enough to do real damage but beyond tenacious and annoying and given to causing pain.
She must be in the carriage house or down by the creek. I paused in front of the open carriage house doors and found her.
“Have you been here all afternoon?”
Victoria shook her head no. “I left. Before I reached the interstate, I turned back. Stopped in Mineral for lunch and then did some sightseeing. It’s a nice town.” She shrugged. “I decided it would be better to wait until everyone else was gone for the day before trying to talk to you again.”
When I didn’t answer, she added, “It’s all looking really good around here. Much better than when I was here last. It seems a lot different, too, with Mr. Lange . . . not here.”
“I don’t know what your game is, Victoria. But this time when you leave, don’t come back.”
Victoria looked down at the package she was holding, the same one she’d had earlier. She stripped the wrapping from it and held it out toward me. It was a huge book. I could read the title from where I stood: Wildflowers of America. It was a coffee-table book, a picture book of glamour shots of flowers. Victoria was gripping it almost like a weapon, which it kind of was, because as she walked toward me holding the book up, she wielded it against me, but with words, not physical force.
She said, “You claimed you knew the names of the wildflowers. Do you remember?”
I stared at her. Had Victoria lost her mind?
“When I came here to visit the first time—before your father died,” she prompted. “You said you were learning the flower names?”
I shrugged.
“But you didn’t, did you? You didn’t even try to identify them and learn about them, though you claimed to admire them so much.”
“I already knew a lot of the names. Remember my needlework?”
“There were more types of flowers out in the yard than you ever stitched. When I asked you about it that day, you lied. You weren’t even trying to learn them.”
“It was none of your business. Still isn’t.”
“I learned their names.” She held up the book. “See? And I was going to show you which flower was which so you could replant.”
I waved my hands at her and half laughed in disdain. “Are you insane?”
Victoria ignored my attitude and answered only the actual words. “No, I’m not insane, but I’m smart, and I know you well. You loved those flowers for their beauty, but you would never have bothered to find out about them—about them as individual flowers. Pretty flowers. They made you feel good and had a nice story to go along with them. But what about them? The flowers?”
Despite myself, I asked, “What about them?”
“They have identities too. Some need more sun. Some require more water. You wanted to compartmentalize them like you do people.”
“You are insane.”
She pulled the book to her chest and hugged it. “I was never more than that to you. A fill-in-the-blank friend. Just an anonymous living thing, someone you didn’t need to trouble yourself with overmuch. Being friends meant something different to me than it did to you. I was always more your friend than you were mine, and that’s the truth. So here’s your book.” She held it toward me again.
I kept my arms crossed.
“Take it.”
I stayed as I was, trying hard to keep my anger within my control. She’d give up. She’d go away.
“Take it, darn it. Take the book. I bought it for you. It’s yours. I have no use for it.”
She gasped, but more in amazement than in hurt. She said, “Are you kidding me? I have more life in me than you’ll ever dream of.” She shook her hand at me, but with her pinkie finger raised. “More in my little finger! And do you know why? Do you have any clue?” She slashed the air between us with a rough movement of her hand. “No, you don’t, because you wear so much protective gear that sometimes you’re barely sentient.”
“Barely sentient? Really? Frankly, I’m surprised you know the word and how to use it in a sentence.”
“I—I . . .” She fisted her hand. “People think I’m arrogant and unempathetic. They think I’m like that bull in the china shop, but I’m not. I’m a force of nature. That’s what I am. I forge my way through life, and sometimes it’s clumsy, and I make mistakes . . . but you? You are so afraid of moving forward that you’re almost paralyzed.”
She glared at me but rushed onward without waiting for a response. “Even now, I want to talk about this, and you’re so desperate to stop me that you will do or say almost anything to make me shut up, give up, and go away.”
“Talk about it? Fine. Why don’t you talk about my husband’s arm around you and your arm around him and how you both had those drunk-happy goofy smiles on your faces?”
Her voice dropped low. “You mean those pictures in my phone?”
“Of course.”
“I already explained about those, Kara. Niles and I were just laughing. No more than that. Please. I was telling him to talk to you about the problems in your marriage. To talk to you and be honest. We were drinking. Not hard liquor, but we were a little tipsy. Stupid, maybe, but I was trying to be the best friend I could to both of you.”
“And that didn’t involve telling me that Niles was cheating with one or maybe more women? Even aside from the dishonesty—the treachery—what diseases might he have brought home to me? What about his partners? Did they know he was married and that I was in the dark? Did you know I—” I broke it off there. I’d said enough. I couldn’t say the next words. She didn’t need to know about the miscarriage.