Every Saturday, Granny took Violet to the library to check out a new book. Some of Violet’s greatest memories were of sitting on the porch, drinking iced tea, and reading aloud to her grandmother. “You read marvelously, Violet,” she would always say. “Please tell me what happens next.”
Violet would sit there and read all day if Granny would let her. It wasn’t until she became older that she asked Granny why she didn’t read herself. That day, Violet was shocked to discover that her grandmother had never learned to read. From that day forward, she was determined to teach her grandmother how to read, and she would never forget the way her grandmother’s eyes lit up with enormous pride when she checked out her very own book at the library. Violet remembered the day just like it was yesterday, and her chest felt tight as she remembered saying, “You read marvelously, Granny. Please tell me what happens next.”
Violet saved her work and shut down the computer. Writing had been difficult lately. With all the newfound drama in her life, one would think she could sit and write for days, but that wasn’t the case. Christopher had been calling daily to inquire about her progress on the book, and she had been dodging his calls left and right. She was nowhere near done, and she didn’t feel like hearing him bitch.
Violet headed up to the second floor and stared at the bed she shared with Alex. He wouldn’t be pleased when he found out she had converted his storage area in the attic into a spare bedroom. But then she realized it was silly to worry about getting upset over a bedroom when what he really needed to be angry about was the new man that had been occupying the bed itself.
The curtains were drawn, and she decided to open them to let in some natural light. It was a lovely day, and here she was cooped up in this old, creepy house. As old and creepy as it was, she knew she would live here forever. She had adored this place since she was a little girl. Granny and Violet used to pass by it every Sunday on their way to church, and sometimes they would stop and park across the street on their way home just so they could look up the hill and admire the old place. Violet knew her grandmother loved Dr. Middleton’s house, probably because her tiny little house was such the polar opposite of a grand place like that. She vowed to buy it for her grandmother one day, but Granny had been dead for nearly eight years now—a deadly combination of Alzheimer’s and lung cancer.
“I hope you’re here with me, Granny,” Violet whispered. For some reason, that thought cheered her up. She changed her shoes and decided to head into town.
Alex would be home tomorrow, and today she was meeting Michael at the Filmont Inn. It seems rather tacky and cliché to meet at a hotel, but so is having an affair with a married man, she thought. Earlier in the week she had received a cryptic message in her inbox; it was an odd reminder for a “business date” with Michael Sinclair at the Filmont Inn. Violet did not respond to the strange message, as she suspected Michael sent it written in such a way that if his wife examined his inbox, their plans would seem nothing more than a casual work encounter. Violet had decided to go ahead and meet him. She couldn’t help but want to spend the night with him despite her better judgment, since it was the last night they would have an opportunity to do so before Alex returned.
Violet had made another decision of her own. After tonight, she was going to tell Michael she wanted him to be happy, and if that meant losing him, then she would just have to accept it. She had decided she needed to cut him off and make a go at her own marriage while he figured out what he wanted to do about his own engagement and current predicament. After hearing his story the other night, she realized the importance of their actions. She never wanted to cause him the kind of pain he had endured from his first wife, and who was she to stand in the way of Elijah having a stepmother and family he so deserved?
If Michael wanted to leave Penelope, then he would have to do it for his own reasons, and the same went for her and Alex’s marriage. If it was meant to be, then they would be together again in the future. More than ever, she was certain her love for Michael was above and beyond anything she had ever felt for another human being. She was more than happy just loving him from a distance if it meant never having to see him cry or hurt the way he had the other night.
Violet locked the back door and squeezed behind the wheel of her Geo Tracker. She wanted something special to wear tonight when she met him at the hotel. It had been so long since she had purchased anything new for herself, and she felt almost giddy as she slowly descended the hill and headed into town. Even though tonight was going to be bittersweet, she could not wait to see Michael again. She wanted simply to rest her head upon his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body and silkiness of the hair on his chest. Even when they were apart, she felt so sure about her love for him. I must be crazy, she thought. No man has ever made me act this lovesick and girly before, but Michael Sinclair just has a way with the ladies, I suppose. She smiled.
In town, she selected a sleek, black dress with lacy trim and low neckline. She also chose a flimsy negligee to conceal underneath the dress and a racy pair of black kitten heels. It had been so long since she had last indulged in a shopping spree, but she had never felt so sexy or alive, and everything she slipped on seemed to somehow fit so perfectly today. The entire day seemed perfect, and she was antsy with excitement about her evening plans with Michael. She stepped out of the store and into the sunlight. It was gorgeous today, and Violet felt certain that nothing could spoil the day ahead.
Chapter Eight
Penelope used her hip to close the heavy Escalade door, waved to her neighbor, Joan, and headed up the front walk to their home in Glenn Heights. She dug around for her keys, but her purse was so deep, and it was full of makeup and other random accessories. She plopped down on her front porch swing, and angrily began dumping its contents at her feet all over the concrete patio. Joan gave her a funny glance and then turned back to her gardening.
“Nosy bitch,” Penelope muttered under her breath. “Ah ha!” She eagerly grabbed a ring of keys. She scooped up her mess, tossed it back in the bag, and let herself inside. Penelope had left work at noon. She loved her job as a nurse, and there were few people in life more important to her than her clients. Furthermore, she really could not afford to take the time off today, but she had to; there was work to do. Detective work, that is…
Penelope dropped her heavy bag on the tiled entrance floor and did a quick walk-through just to make sure Michael wasn’t home. He had “gone to work” again this morning. She had been tempted to just jump in the car to follow him this morning, but she had to get the kids ready for school, and she’d had to go into the hospital for a few hours to finish up some overdue paperwork—not to mention the fact that, unlike Michael, she could not run around all day because she had to be home to take care of the kids after work. She felt angry as hell as she thought about the fact that she was pretty much taking care of Angie and Elijah all on her own while he was out running around doing God knows what.
After chugging some caffeine, Penelope made her way into the bedroom. She started opening drawers and looking through everything. She didn’t know what she was looking for…some sort of clue…maybe some definitive sign he was having an affair or living some secret life that required him to take mysterious days off from work?
Her first instinct was to forage through the contents of Michael’s desktop computer. With the way of the world these days, and its many technologies, a man can easily have an affair via the Internet. Penelope was not naïve, and she even, in fact, knew the password he used for his email. She loaded the computer and accessed his inbox, scrolling down desperately through its contents, looking for anything that seemed personal in nature or otherwise suspicious. There were a few short messages between Michael and his secretary, but nothing that gave Penelope cause for concern. There was, however, a recent message sent to a woman named Violet Cromwell, and her name was unfamiliar to Penelope. However, B & J Shipping was an enormous enterprise, and there was no way she could know everybody he associated with a
t work. The content of the message to this Violet person was regarding a luncheon at the Filmont Inn, and it was also not uncommon for Michael to meet potential clients at hotels or local convention centers. Penelope sighed, shutting down the computer, and began searching her and Michael’s bedroom erratically.
The bedroom produced no results. Other than the living room, kitchen, the kids’ bedrooms, and the three bathrooms, she was left with only one other idea of where something might be hidden, although she wasn’t sure what that something she was looking for might even be.
Penelope had never been out to Michael’s storage shed, but she knew where he kept a spare key. She dug around in his dresser drawer until she finally felt the small, metal key with her fingertips. She tucked it in her pocket, and after checking again to make sure no one had pulled in the driveway, she headed out back to the shed.
She undid the padlock, yanked open the shed door, and quickly slid inside, closing the door behind her. She felt around in the dark for the pull chain light and was relieved when she finally found it. Penelope hated the dark.
Her eyes adjusted to the light, and she was disappointed to see that it was only a quarter of the way full, mostly with Michael’s tools and lawn care equipment. There did not appear to be anything suspicious, but just as she was turning to leave, she spotted a cardboard shoebox on a top, wooden shelf. Climbing was not her strong suit, so she went back inside the house to retrieve a step stool. She climbed up on the stool and slowly edged the box down from the shelf with her fingertips. Michael must have put it there, because God knows she and the kids weren’t tall enough to store something that high.
The box was small and light enough to tuck under her arm as she hurriedly darted back inside the house. For some reason, she didn’t want Michael to come home and find her snooping through his stuff. She couldn’t imagine him getting angry about it, especially since she had every right to be pissed off and suspicious after the stunt he pulled, lying to her about being at work. But the thought of being so desperate embarrassed her. She tried to picture her mother rummaging through her father’s things, but the thought only made her laugh. Her mother would not think twice about snooping around; she would have wacked her dad with a frying pan and confronted him about his lie directly instead.
Penelope pried the top off the box and pulled out what appeared to be a stack of tattered letters and pictures. The pictures were of Michael, Elijah, and Lexi. Penelope had seen a picture of Lexi before, but she had thought most of them were gone. Michael told her that he couldn’t stand having them around anymore after she left, so he finally put them all away and eventually tossed them out with the garbage. Just one more lie to add to the growing list, she thought warily.
Penelope flipped through the pictures and could not help but feel jealous. Lexi was exquisitely beautiful. Even though Michael and Elijah rarely spoke of her, Penelope just knew what women always know: that Lexi had been the one, at least at some point in time for Michael.
Penelope opened one of the letters and was appalled to see that it too, was from Lexi. After opening the other letters she realized that they were all from Lexi—love letters, apparently. She tossed the box across the room with an angry grunt just as she heard a knock on the door. “Crap!” she cried, tossing the contents back into the box and hiding it under the sink.
Penelope straightened her hair and smoothed out the wrinkles in her work uniform as she made her way to the front door. It was the UPS man. Hmmm, she thought, maybe Michael has been busy ordering me some sort of gift. She opened the door and gave the UPS man a welcome smile.
“Package for Elijah Sinclair,” he announced as he handed her the board to sign with her electronic signature.
“What is it?” she asked, signing her name as Penelope Sinclair instead of using her maiden name.
“You know how many times a day I hear that question, lady?” he asked with a smile. “I have no idea. I just deliver the packages.”
He handed her a medium-sized, brown box addressed to Elijah with his and Michael’s previous address on the package. Apparently, whoever had sent it was unaware of their new address, but UPS had been kind enough to look up their forwarding address.
She carried the box inside and set it on the table. Without a second thought, she started pulling off the heavy tape. She knew it was wrong not to wait for Elijah, but after the recent discoveries she had made with Michael, she couldn’t help herself. Who would be sending sixteen-year-old Elijah a package? According to Michael, they had no close relatives that they kept in touch with. She got her answer as she opened the box to find a white piece of paper taped to the outside of a model airplane kit. The paper simply read:
“Happy Birthday. Love, Mom.”
Penelope was taken aback. After ten years, she suddenly decides to send Elijah a gift? Penelope wondered incredulously. Suddenly, she had a thought. Was Michael seeing Lexi again? Was she back in town? Is this why he was skipping work and running around behind her back? Why the hell would she just send something out of the blue if she hadn’t talked to Michael or Elijah in nearly a decade!
Penelope sat down on the living room couch and decided to send Michael a text. She had to get to the bottom of this and quickly. Both her and Angie’s happiness depended on it, and she was not about to let Michael make a fool out of her! What would her mother think when she found out?
Her worried thoughts were spinning out of control as she texted Michael and clicked the send button. She texted him that she was getting off work early and asked if he wanted to meet for lunch.
Penelope groaned loudly as she received his response.
Michael: I’m too busy today, Sweetheart…sorry…I probably won’t be in until supper late 2nite so plz don’t wait up.
Penelope knew what she had to do now, and it was not going to be pretty. It was time for a good, old-fashioned stakeout. Nancy Drew would be so proud!
Chapter Nine
Lexi woke up from a nightmare covered in sweat. She was relieved to be awake even though she couldn’t really remember what the dream was about. Something about loud music blaring in her eyes while some gross, old man hovered over her…no, not a man, she remembered, but some sort of beastly creature…
She laughed at herself and rolled over to look at the alarm clock. She had been having bad nightmares for years now, but the one she had last night was most certainly a direct result of the everyday trauma that she had to endure at the Clamshell. The club definitely had its fair share of beastly, old men and loud, blaring music.
The alarm clock told her it was three in the afternoon. How the hell did I sleep so long? she wondered. She hopped out of bed and headed straight for the shower just as she did most mornings. She stopped in the hallway to listen for sounds of Reggie, but concluded he must have stayed at his own place last night, or he crashed at one of his friend’s houses.
Lexi bent over the sink and brushed her teeth. Her muscles ached, and she felt grimy from sweating so much in her sleep. She washed the toothpaste out of her mouth and took a quick shower. She strolled out of the bathroom naked and was startled when Reggie turned the corner. “Damn, Reggie! You scared the hell out of me!” she grumbled. She headed past him so she could put on some clothes, but he grabbed her arm, and he grabbed it hard. “What the hell!” she hollered.
But this wasn’t the first time Reggie had put his hands on her, and she knew why he was mad.
After purchasing the present for Elijah the other day and overnighting it to him, she had been so happy that she had treated herself to a hotel room at the Carlton. That night she had wanted to celebrate alone in a place that felt clean and new and offered great room service. For one night only, she wanted to feel like a queen and forget all about her shabby, one-bedroom apartment and her crappy job.
Apparently, Reggie did not want an explanation. He just wanted to punish her with his fists. The first blow was expected, and she did her best to block it, but he just aimed lower with his other fist. He caught her on her ri
ght side with his fist, and she hit the ground, gulping for air.
“Where have you been, Lexi?” he asked, though it was not really a question. He kicked her in the side again with a worn-out, brown boot. It hurt, and this time she rolled over on her back in pain and put her hands up pleading with him to stop.
But her pleading only seemed to agitate him more, and this time he landed a kick to the side of her head. For a moment, all she saw was blackness…then she opened her eyes and slowly pulled herself to her knees and started crawling to the bedroom.
“I waited all night for you, bitch! I even went to the club trying to find your slutty ass, but Billy said you never showed up!” he yelled.
Surely, the neighbors will call the police this time, she thought groggily as she continued to crawl away from him. But the next thing she knew, Reggie was sitting on her back, pinning her arms above her head. She jerked her legs wildly, but it was no use. “Reggie…” she tried to plead, but her voice cracked, and she imagined how good a glass of water would taste right now.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back at a painfully awkward angle. “What’s that, bitch? What are you trying to say?” he hollered into her left ear.
Lexi tried to find her voice again, but the next thing she knew he was beating her in the head with his fists, and then the blackness enveloped her, and she didn’t open her eyes this time.
This Is Not About Love Page 4