Not What She Seems (27 page)

Theodore threw his car into park and turned it off.
Aunt Edna’s
appeared deserted, with just one college aged kid sitting in the corner sipping his coffee and reading a newspaper. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a roll of antacids, popping two into his mouth.

Yanking on his door handle, he stepped from his vehicle into the chilly morning air. The front door jingled when he opened it, and Edna came around the corner.

She smiled, smoothing her apron when she saw him.
“Mr. Grant, how nice to see you.”
Her gaze darted around the room, resting on the young man in the corner before she said,
“
Can I bring you a cup of coffee?”

A prickle of annoyance stirred in him. “Yes.
Black.”
He slid into a seat on the far wall where no one could see him from the outside windows. The young man folded his newspaper and threw some bills on the table before leaving.

Edna took her own sweet time getting the coffee. When she finally came back, Theodore could feel his mood souring.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Grant?” She fingered the curls below her ear.

“No. And we’re alone now, so you can drop the pretense. Emily has been released. What do you know? Is she planning on leaving town now?”

Edna shifted her weight. “She doesn’t want to stay here, from what I’ve heard. My guess is she’ll leave town.” She sounded uncertain.

Theodore cleared his throat. “I don’t like her staying with Vincent. Has he said anything to you?”

Edna’s eyes flickered toward the door. Brushing her apron again, she said, “I’ve only seen him once since Emily began staying with him. He’s obviously still in love with her. All he talked about was her.”

“Well, keep tabs on him. I don’t know how close they are getting to each other living in the same house.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s very distant with him. She’s in love with that billionaire. Vincent is going through the same thing he did six years ago as he watched her and William grow close.” Edna pursed her lips.

Theodore felt his stomach tighten. He didn’t want to get into another discussion about William. “The sooner she
leaves,
the better off it will be for all of us.”

The door jingled and Edna stepped back. “Well, Mr. Grant, let me know if I can get anything else for you.”

He nodded, dismissing her. Moments later he stalked out into the cold.

******

Richard punched his fist in the air, just missing the computer screen. “
Yes
. Thank you Steven.” He stifled a grin. “I knew that coming here would be a good idea.” His voice echoed through the empty room.

It was a chance, coming back to Stapleton so soon, but he knew the police would be looking for him in
Iowa
, and felt it was safe enough. He was right. No one paid any attention to the old Chevrolet he drove. His grandmother had not been happy to see him, but she’d let him in anyway.

He glanced around his grandmother’s den. Wooden shelves lined the wall, nick-knacks and framed photos placed neatly in the midst of hard bound books standing like sentinels in a row. The novels he read in his youth were neatly shelved and dusted on the bottom row. One might think they had never been read if it weren’t for the cracks in the spines. They were the only things of
his
left in the house. All other reminders that he ever lived there had been purged. Perhaps it slipped his grandmother’s mind that he had once owned and read those books.

Richard turned back to the computer. He logged out of Steven’s email account, and pushed the computer chair away from the desk. He stretched before wandering into his grandmother’s bedroom.

The smell of lilacs mixed with a faint metallic odor filled the room. The heavy burgundy drapes were pulled back and tied into place, allowing the room to be flooded with morning light. His grandmother lay on the bed.

“Did you hear that, Granny? Something is going good for me today.” Richard came close, and patted his grandmother’s wrinkled face. It was cold. She stared up at the ceiling, her mouth open, her favorite kitchen knife stuck deep in her chest.

“I’ll be heading out now. I don’t know when I’ll be back to see you. But I promise to write.” A smile spread across his face. “Say hi to mom for me.”

******

The organ played softly in the background as people shuffled into the funeral home. Rose stood in the foyer, with her sons.  Steven watched as people hugged Rose and dabbed at their eyes. Her sons were beside her, ashen faced and nodding as they shook hands with those who came to offer condolences. Steven made his way up to Rose. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her for a few seconds before he stepped back. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

She nodded, and Steven squeezed her shoulder before winding his way through the crowd toward the chapel. He slid onto a bench in the back.

Several stands with floral arrangements lined the front of the chapel. The tall stained glass window behind the pulpit depicted a large yellow cross with lilies decorating it. Frank’s coffin was in a viewing room, outside of the chapel.

People filed in, taking their seats and whispering greetings to each other. The organist continued to play soft music until most people had been seated. Tall thin glass windows faced the parking lot to the west of the building. A flash of blond hair outside caught his attention.

No. It couldn’t be.

Steven closed his eyes, the pain in his gut almost too much to handle. Whoever it was outside looked just like Emily.

******

Emily hustled up the sidewalk. She hadn’t meant to take as long as she did getting ready. Cars packed tightly in the parking lot told her Frank’s funeral would be well attended.

She entered the funeral home and hung up her coat. Rose stood talking to a small group of people in an otherwise empty lobby. When she saw Emily, she smiled warmly.

“I’m so glad you could make it.”

Emily embraced her. “I’m sorry I had to come under these circumstances.”

Rose nodded, tears glistening her eyes. “I’d like you to meet my sons. This is Justin and Timothy. This is Emily.”

A look passed between the two before they shook her hand.

Rose fussed with her dress. “We’d better go in there. I think they’re waiting for us.” She grabbed her sons’ arms and they headed into the chapel.

Emily peeked inside. The room was packed with people. She wasn’t sure she could find a seat. As the priest stood, she noticed an empty seat in the back, and slid onto the bench.

The priest began to speak about Frank. Images of him sprung to her mind. He always looked so strong. She could see him sitting at one of Rose’s tables, waiting for her to sit with him on her break. He had a way of making anyone feel at home around him.

She pulled a tissue out of her purse. This was going to be a hard funeral to attend. Frank was still so young.

She glanced around the beautifully decorated chapel. She could tell Frank had touched many lives. People of all ages sat along the benches.

Someone turned toward her, and her stomach dropped.

Steven. He’s here.

Chapter Thirty Five

The quiet street echoed his footsteps as Richard crunched over the ice and snow lining the curb. Steven’s house stood a story taller than the others in the neighborhood. He walked up through the open gate. A quick surveillance of the house gave him confidence. The snow around the house had been walked on by quite a few people, leaving plenty of paths that he could step on unnoticed.

He walked around to the back of the house. The first window he tried wouldn’t budge. After the second one wouldn’t budge, he started to worry that they were painted shut. But the third one slid open easily. He took a stick off the ground and shook the snow off. The window made the stick bow, but it held. His hand shot stabs of pain up his wrist and arm as he heaved himself up and through the opening.

Richard stood, dusting the snow from his faded jeans. He lifted the window and threw the stick out before sliding it down. Turning, he found himself in a pantry, the walls covered with shelving units. A few boxes of cereal and some cans were placed neatly on the shelves, with large spaces in between as if Steven had already decided on an organizational system in which to store his food. Richard scoffed and resisted the temptation to knock the stuff over. Instead, he entered the kitchen.

The clock on the stove reminded him the funeral would be over soon. He opened a drawer.
Towels.
The next drawer he opened had what he was looking for. He lifted a long carving knife, turning it in the light to examine the blade.

Perfect.

The drawer slid shut with ease. He walked to the living room, looking for a good place to hide. The room was bare. After wandering around on the first floor, he decided to go up the stairs. The hard wooden stairs creaked and groaned with his weight.

He opened a closet door to find it was actually the stairs to the attic. Excitement rushed through him. He climbed the steps, grasping the rail with his good hand. One bare light bulb hung from the slanted beams of the roof. A window on the south side of the house shed a minimal amount of light on the contents of the room. An abandoned chair sagged in the corner, and a door stood slightly ajar on the opposite side. Richard turned on the light. He pulled the door open, revealing a small closet. In the dim light, he could make out a screwdriver, a wrench, a few wooden boards, and a coil of rope on the floor.

Richard slid the chair over to the window and plopped down. He peered down at the street in front of the house.

Now all that’s left to do is wait.

He pitched the knife at the wall with such force that it made a loud thud and stuck straight out. A slow smile crept across his face.

******

Emily glanced over at Steven again. He sat hunched over, his head in his hands. She knew he had seen her, but he was purposely ignoring her now.

She twisted her hands. She hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Now that he was in the same room with her, she could hardly breathe. All she’s done since he left was think about him.

She squirmed in her seat, the hole in her chest threatening to engulf her. How could she have said that she didn’t love him? Every moment he had been gone was torture. She knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t tell him the truth. Nerves started to creep over her. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She would catch up with him after the service let out, and force herself to talk to him.

******

Steven slipped out of the funeral home as soon as the service was over. How is it possible that Emily was here? The charges must have been dropped.

Sprinting across the parking lot, he was almost to his car when he heard Emily call out.

“Steven, wait.”

Hearing her voice made his pulse quicken. He stopped but didn’t turn around. Emily was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. He raised his hand to brush through his hair, but folded his arms across his chest instead. That was one bad habit he was determined to break.

She cleared her throat. “I owe you an apology.”

Steven raised an eyebrow and turned to face her, his curiosity getting the better of him. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, her cheeks flushed from the cold wind. Her coat was unbuttoned, revealing her form fitting dress. Seeing her again, standing there in front of him, felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t bring himself to smile.

Emily glanced at his face then peered down at her shoes. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t mean it.”

Anger boiled up inside of him. “Didn’t mean it?” He tried to keep his voice calm. “What exactly
did
you mean?”

She looked him in the eyes, and the knife in his gut twisted deeper. “I thought I would be able to lie, to you, and to myself. But I was wrong. I do have feelings for you.”

His words came rushing out, his anger keeping him from censoring what he was going to say. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why in the world would you lie to me? Just for kicks? Wait, let me guess. You didn’t hurt me enough the first time, so you wanted to make sure you got it right this time?”

The hurt in her eyes was obvious. “How could you say that?”

“Maybe because every time I turn around you’re messing with my head. You’re hot, then cold. Close, and then distant. I don’t know whether to run to you, or run from you.”

Her lips trembled. “Steven, I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I have to let you know that I do care very deeply for you.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight. “I’ve been feeling terrible ever since you left. My life is not the same without you in it. I understand if you want to tell me to get lost, but I couldn’t leave town knowing that I missed the opportunity to tell you how sorry I am for saying what I did. It was a lie, and I know that now more than ever.”