Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (29 page)

Grant stood before me on my doorstep, looking clean and well pressed. He smiled broadly as he waited for me to say something.

“Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” I said. “How do you know where I live?”

“You're rather famous, and it's a small community.”

“Infamous is more like it.” I sighed, then added. “Would you like to come in?”

“I’d love to.” He flashed another grin at me, then eyed my dusty clothing. “Have I interrupted you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I was ready to take a break,” I mumbled, absently brushing at my clothes, not making much of a difference in their present state of filth. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure.”

I waited, but he didn’t continue. “Anything in particular?”

“Whatever you’re having would be fine.”

“Right. Okay. Well, you can have a seat in the living room if you like. I'm sorry about the mess….”

“Spring cleaning?”

“Something like that.”

“These old houses are lovely, aren’t they?”

“Many believe so. I’ll be right back.”

I walked into the kitchen, dazed by both the discovery of the sock and Grant’s surprise appearance. My refrigerator was almost completely bare. Other than orange juice and water, I didn’t have much to offer besides alcohol. I glanced at the clock. It was nearly one.

Not too early for wine
, I thought to myself. I opened a bottle and grabbed a couple glasses on my way back to the living room. Grant was not where I had left him. He was in the study, stewing over the blueprint Gabriel and I had uncovered the day before.

“I thought we could have wine,” I said sternly, feeling very possessive of what he was snooping through. I didn't like him poking around on Danny’s desk—or being in my house for that matter. “You know, it's a lovely day. . . . Why don’t we sit on the porch?”

“That would be nice,” he replied, looking back at me. “I hope you don’t mind that I wanted to see more of the house. How old is it?”

“I'm not sure exactly. It was built by my husband’s great, great, great, great grandfather in Montgomery’s early days and remained in the family since then.”

“Until now,” he said as he followed me back to the porch.

“Excuse me?”

“Now it’s your house. The bloodline has changed.”

We took our seats on the big southern porch. “Yeah, I guess.” I could imagine no house in the world could have felt less like it was mine.  I poured two modest glasses of wine and moved one towards Grant.

“So, what brings you here?”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve spoken with you. As my new friend I felt I should stop by for a social call. Is that all right?”

“Oh . . . I guess so.”

“I came by last night, but you weren’t here.”

“No, I was out.”

“I’m sorry I missed you. There's something different about you now.”

“Really?”

“You seem more relaxed, and maybe even a little more polite than you have in the past.”

A smile curled my lips. I guessed I had been rather short with Grant on many occasions. “Maybe it’s just the change of setting.”

“Perhaps—or maybe you’re getting used to me. You seem like the type that has to warm up to things. I'm the same way.”

“That I am... but I don't see that trait in you at all.”

Grant gave me a charming smile. “Did they ever catch your husband’s killer?”

I was slightly taken aback by the question. “No, they didn’t.”

“That must be difficult.” He studied me for a moment. “You try very hard to not give away too much about yourself, but your eyes betray you. I can see pain with the mention of your husband, for that I'm sorry. You loved him very much?”

“Of course.”

He gave a slight smirk. “Is that always given?”

“It should be.” I couldn't explain why, but suddenly I felt like telling him about my recent discoveries. I felt that he of all people could understand. “Lately, I've not been so certain that Danny was the man I thought he was.”

Grant considered this statement carefully. “It's hard to make judgments about someone who isn’t here to defend himself.”

“I have my reasons and a growing pile of evidence.”

“I'm sure you do,” he said gently, but didn’t inquire about them which I found irritating.

“I think he was having an affair.”

Grant nodded. “Does that mean he loved you any less?”

“That's given, isn’t it?”

“No. He could still have loved you and just made a mistake. Without being able to talk to him, I wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe he just needed to something you weren't able to give. Of course never having met him I'm just hypothesizing.”

I shook my head. “It changes everything. My life was dedicated to that man. I moved here because of him. I've mourned him for over a year, hardly able to breathe for my grief—” My hand clenched around the stem of my glass so hard that my knuckles whitened.  “And you sit here telling me that if the man I devoted myself to had an affair and broke that trust, it doesn’t change anything—and not only that, but that it’s my fault. His behavior should be excused because I couldn't give him what he
needed
.” Anger was bubbling inside like lava. I slammed my glass down on the table before I broke it in my fist.

“You were completely devoted to him? What about your writing?”

“What?—of all the chauvinistic, asshole things to say!”

“How many books did you write while you were married?”

“I don’t know. A few. It's my job.” I said defensively

Grant ignored my tone and continued gently, “Writing takes a lot of your time, does it not?”

“Sometimes.”

“How can you be a good wife while you’re caught up in your gruesome, grisly stories? Now if someone came along that could look at him adoringly as I imagine you once did…”

“That doesn’t excuse anything.” I said, but I stumbled over the words, consumed by fury at his antiquated attitude. “If he was unhappy, he should have said so. He should have communicated, not slept with the first tramp he could find.”

“Did you speak to him about how unhappy you were?”

“He knew.”

“Really? Did he know the depths of your unhappiness?”

"I can’t believe you're blaming me for the fact he had an affair with some floozy.”

“I'm not excusing anything, just presenting you with another point of view. I'm sure if he were still alive he would regret what transpired greatly.”

“If he were still alive, I’d probably still have no idea and he’d still be having an affair—or he would have left me by now.”

“Perhaps. I believe, however, that these things have a way of coming to the forefront. They’re hard to keep secret for very long. I think your husband loved you very much despite his actions.”

 “You didn’t even know him.” I snapped.

“You did. What do you think? Do you believe he loved you or did he lie every time he uttered those words?”

I clicked my teeth. Who the hell did he think he was? And to think I’d called Gabriel Dr. Phil. My mind flashed back to Danny’s planner and the circle drawn around the date I got home. All the happy memories I had of us together   . . .  could they all have been fake?  Maybe, maybe not—but there was no way I was going to let this man, this stranger, manipulate my feelings any further.

“You sound experienced. Cheated on a lot of girls, have you?”

“No.”

“Not that you would tell me if you had.”

 “Why would I hide it from you?”

“Why would you share it with me?” I countered.

The tension was thick in the air. I could almost feel static building. Then what I least expected to happen did; Grant's laughter spilled out cracking the air. Whether he was laughing at me or the conversation was unclear, as was how I should react.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so hard on you. I have the very bad habit of playing devil’s advocate with people. Do you forgive me?”

“I'm not sure. What have you said that requires my forgiveness?”

“You were confiding in me and I made you doubt yourself. Truly deplorable of me.” A suppressed grin twinkled in his eyes, and for a minute he reminded me very much of Danny.

“I imagine I’ll survive. Besides, I didn’t doubt myself so much as I was frustrated with you.”

“I'm glad to hear that. . . .” He seemed to want to say more, but my phone rang and I moved to answer it in case it was Gabriel. I started to excuse myself, but before I could get in the door Grant stood up. “I should go. It was lovely seeing you.  We should do it again soon.”

“Oh, you’re leaving?”

“Yes, I feel I must. I've stayed longer than I intended. You’d better be quick or you’ll miss that call,” he said with a wink and started down the steps. I watched him turn the corner round the house, then raced inside to grab the phone.

“Hello,” I said a bit breathlessly.

“Ella?”

“Yes?”

“You're out of breath.” It was Susan.

“Yeah, I had to run in from outside.”

“Oh.” There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Do you need something, Susan?”

“Just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine. Really—you don't have to take care of me. I'm making discoveries about myself and about Danny, sorting through stuff right now, trying to move on with life.”

“What kind of discoveries?”

“All kinds.”

“Oh, I see. You don’t need me now that you have that cop following you around at beck and call.”

“Excuse me?”

“That's what you are doing, Ella. You're trying to get rid of me since you’ve made a new “friend,” the good detective.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, but I might as well have saved my breath. Susan battled on.

“As much as you don’t like to hear it, this isn’t all about you. You refuse to acknowledge other people have lost something too.”

“I’m not refusing to acknowledge anything—I’m moving on. Like you insisted I should, actually.  And as for Gabriel—yeah, he helps me a lot. He’s trying to solve the case. Our goals are the same. He doesn’t constantly tell me to let it go—he’s helping me find closure.”

“Oh, I’m sure he
is
.”

“What does that mean?” You could feel the bristling we were both doing through the phone.

Again, there was silence on the other end. “I’m sorry. I don't know what’s gotten into me. I just I miss hanging out with you, I guess.”

“Honestly, I don’t see why. I haven’t been pleasant the last year and we haven’t spent much time together.”