The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time (10 page)

“Why do you think I’d be stressed?” I asked innocently.

She faced me again and raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean.”

Sadly, I did. She was referring to my turbulent love life, currently revolving around the man I’d been dating for the past five months.

Although “dating” was an understated word for whatever we were. Our relationship had begun with an intensity that knocked the breath out of both of us. We’d met here in the pub when he came in with a couple of friends to enjoy a few beers on a Friday afternoon. I’d waited on them at the booth in the back corner and sparks had flown instantly while we flirted.

Derek was handsome and fit and he made a good living as a contractor, running his own business here in Portland. The only downside was that he was married. Separated, actually, but not yet divorced. He’d only been separated for a few months when we first met, though I’d been divorced from Ethan for a number of years.

Derek had just moved into a tidy, modern one-bedroom apartment in one of the newer developments, while his wife, Addison, continued to live in their family home in the suburbs with their two children, aged twelve and fourteen.

Derek still went over there all the time to visit. It seemed like there was always something he had to take care of—a plumbing issue in the kitchen or some rotting boards on the deck.

It was also an excuse for him to spend time with his children, so I couldn’t fault him for that because I admired men who were good fathers. It’s part of why I found him so attractive. But it never sat well with me when I knew he was visiting there for hours on end and I didn’t know what was happening with his wife—an attractive, successful C.P.A. with long, shiny, jet-black hair. Addison wore skirts and heels to work and carried a briefcase.

I think her level of education, and the fact that she was a professional, intimidated me a little, because I’d never gone to college. I’d always planned to—and maybe I still would—but Ethan and I had married young. I had been nineteen, barely out of high school when we defied his parents, snuck off to city hall one afternoon and tied the knot.

The only way we’d been able to manage those first few years was for me to work full-time and support us while he finished his degree. Because his father cut us off.

The reason I was in possession of the mansion now was because—not long after his parents’ private jet went down over the Atlantic—we found out that his mother had penned a private will of her own. This house was always deeded in her name and she had left it to Ethan, against his father’s wishes.

Ethan then gave it to me in the divorce settlement, in exchange for me supporting us for all those years, I suppose.

But that was a lifetime ago, and I was trying not to dwell on the past. So, back to Derek…

I hadn’t actually met Derek’s wife. I had only seen pictures of her on Derek’s Facebook page, but I knew she was aware of my existence and my relationship with her husband.

Scratch that.

She was aware of my relationship with her soon-to-be
ex-
husband.

Derek had told me she was uptight about him introducing new girlfriends to their children, however. She didn’t want to confuse or upset them with a revolving door of new “lady friends” every week. I wasn’t even supposed to post anything on his Facebook page because the kids were online constantly with their mobile phones.

Lately I’d been pushing Derek to talk to Addison, to try and convince her to lighten up with the rules and allow me to meet his children, but Derek was firm on the issue and insisted that they weren’t ready for that.

So that’s what Cassie had meant by the “stress dream” comment. She knew I was frustrated.

“Maybe the dream about Ethan dying meant something else entirely,” I said. “Maybe it means I’m finally letting go of that part of my life.”

“I should hope so,” she replied. “It’s been seven years.”

The bells over the door jangled as it opened. Three women walked in and took seats at the table in the alcove at the front window.

“How are you ladies doing today?” I asked as I approached and handed each of them a menu. While they looked it over, I went to the kitchen to let Malcolm and Gabe know that we had customers, then I carried three glasses of water on a tray to the table.

I had just finished unloading the drinks when the front door opened again and who should walk in, briefcase in hand, but Addison Murphy.

Derek’s wife.

Chapter Twenty-four

Addison stood on the welcome mat in her skinny black skirt, red pumps, white blouse and tailored blazer. She removed her sunglasses and looked around as if she were an interior decorator, there to gut the place.

“Can I help you?” Cassie asked from behind the bar.

I was behind Addison, standing in the alcove in the front window. Not that I was trying to hide from her or anything, but I wasn’t in any hurry to show myself either. At least not until I knew why she was there.

Cassie obviously had no idea that this was Derek’s wife, who I’d spoken about more than once over a glass of wine after closing. I’d shown Cassie pictures of Addison on Facebook, but she obviously hadn’t made the connection.

Making no move to acknowledge Addison or say hello, I simply walked past her to deliver the lunch orders to Malcolm, out back.

Unfortunately for me, it became obvious that Addison hadn’t come in for lunch or a beer. She called my name, just as I was about to push through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“Excuse me, are you Sylvie Nichols?” she asked.

Oh, crap.
I stopped, took a breath and let it out—because somehow I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty.

I turned. “Yes, that’s me. You must be Addison.” I slid the round tray under my arm, wiped my palm on my thigh to dry it off, strode forward and held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

She stared down at my hand as if it were something sticky—and a terrible inconvenience to lift her own—then reluctantly, she shook mine.

“Uh huh,” she murmured in a cool tone while her brown eyes roamed over my face. “I figured it was time.”

“Great,” I replied, hoping she was there to consider offering a green light for Derek to introduce me to his children. It made sense, in my opinion, because I could turn out to be their stepmother someday.
Wouldn’t it be best to ease them into it?

“I just have to deliver these orders to the kitchen,” I said. “Would you like to have a seat at one of the tables or at the bar?”

She shook her head. “No, I won’t be staying.”

“Oh…. Well…just give me a second…”

A rush of nervous butterflies invaded my belly as I passed on the orders to Malcolm, out back. Before I returned, I hurried into the staff washroom to check my hair and make sure my mascara wasn’t flaking under my eyes. I looked all right, so I prepared myself for whatever she wanted to ask me.

Addison was still standing in the same spot, adjacent to the bar, checking her text messages as I approached.

“So,” I said lightly, “what can I do for you?” Her eyes slowly lifted so I forged on.

“Would you like a drink or something? My treat. Soda pop? Coffee? Tea? A glass of wine?”

She chucked bitterly. “No, thanks. I’m just here to ask you to stop badgering Derek about meeting my kids.”

“Badgering him…” I paused. “They’re his children, too.”

“You’re right, they are, and he doesn’t want you to meet them. So you’re stepping over the line every time you put pressure on him. You’re not a parent. You don’t know what it’s like.”

It felt as if she’d just tossed a glass of ice cold water in my face. “I know more than you think,” I replied testily. “But if you don’t want your kids to meet me, that’s fine. I’ll respect that, but eventually you’re both going to have to let them meet other people. You can’t hide that stuff from them. Everyone has to go on living.”

You’re a fine one to talk, Sylvie Nichols. Today, you get the special award for being the world’s best hypocrite.

Addison scoffed. “I don’t plan on bringing other men into my children’s lives, but that’s none of your business. Just stop badgering Derek, all right? He has enough to deal with.”

She put her sunglasses on and turned to go.

I followed. “What do you mean?”

She stopped as she reached the door, then yanked it open with a noisy jangle of the bells. “He feels guilty enough about what happened between us. He’s trying to work through it. And don’t think you’re anything special. He’s just killing time with you,” she said over her shoulder.

With that she walked out. As I listened to the sound of her heels clicking hurriedly down the sidewalk, I felt as if I’d been kicked in the stomach.

Suddenly I became aware of Cassie’s hand on my shoulder, and the silent, curious stares of the three women watching me from the front table.

“Are you okay?” Cassie gently asked as she led me toward the back of the pub.

“I’m fine,” I replied, shaking my head as if to clear it.

“What a witch,” Cassie whispered. “She’s obviously jealous.”

“Maybe.” I felt completely dazed. “But do you think Derek’s been complaining about me to her? She said I was badgering him.”

Cassie was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he’s been pushing for you to meet the kids, and that’s what scares her. She’s trying to push back.”

“But what did she mean about Derek trying to work through it? Addison said he felt guilty about what happened between them.” I lowered my voice so the women at the front table wouldn’t hear me. “He told me that she cheated on him and that’s why they separated. Why would he feel guilty about that? Do you think he lied to me?”

Cassie squeezed my shoulder. “I don’t know,” she gently replied.

“When I think about that first night he came to my place for dinner… I cooked him spaghetti. He was adamant about telling me it was over between them.” I stared at Cassie with curiosity. “You don’t like him, do you?” I asked.

She hesitated. “It’s not that. Derek’s a fun guy to be around and I’d adore him if I thought he would propose to you or really commit, but I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. It’s not that he’s a bad person. It’s just that…he has a family and he’s still devoted to them. They’re not going away any time soon.”

Taking a deep breath, I sank onto the cushioned seat in a back booth and rested my forehead on my hand.

The bells over the door jangled again as two more customers walked in. Cassie turned and spoke to them with a smile. “Morning! Have a seat anywhere. We’ll be right with you.”

I shook my head in defeat. “I thought everything was going so well. We really click, you know? I haven’t had that in a long time.”

“Maybe everything’s fine,” Cassie replied, “and that’s why Addison came here—to spout vitriol at you because she’s feeling threatened.”

Sitting up straight, I ran my fingers through my hair to fluff it up, then slid off the bench. “I need to go check on those orders.”

* * *

I went home that night and ate a late supper. Alone.

As always, I sat at the head of the giant mahogany table in the dining room, and used Mrs. Foster’s very best crystal, because why should it go to waste?

Of course, it was
my
crystal now. I don’t know why I always thought of it as hers.

Later, I went upstairs and climbed onto the big, four-poster bed that Ethan and I had shared for a few happy years after we inherited the house from his mother.

I thought about how generous Ethan had been in the divorce. This house was his parting gift to me. While I had become deeply attached to it, he’d felt there were too many unpleasant memories here for him to ever enjoy it. He’d wanted a fresh start. In the end, he preferred New York. He was always better at moving on than I was.

As I lay there, I couldn’t help but reminisce. The dream had taken me back to our romantic beginnings, when we’d fallen hopelessly in love that first summer and I’d felt completely confident about our future together.

The abortion the following October had been difficult, but it somehow brought us closer, for we both mourned the loss of the child we would never come to know.

After that, all we’d wanted was a second chance to do it right—to get married and have a baby together.

At least we’d done that. We’d had a baby. A beautiful baby boy.

It’s sad sometimes, how things turn out…

An image of Ethan from the nightmare, lying dead on the floor in front of the fireplace, flashed suddenly like an exploding lightbulb in my brain, and I felt a surge of fear, for I’d had dreams in the past that turned out to be premonitions. I hoped that wasn’t the case here.

Though it was late, and what I was about to do was probably a huge mistake—because I hadn’t spoken to Ethan in over a year—I picked up my phone on the bedside table and sent him a text.

Hey…are you awake? I had a weird dream about you last night and now I’m a bit freaked out. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

I hit send before I could change my mind, because I knew his wife wasn’t going to like it.

Chapter Twenty-five