Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Finding a tiny grin, I curl my hair behind my ear on one side. “One piece is best. Thanks.”
He eyes my hair.
“I’m Frankie, by the way.” I hold out my hand.
“Jack.” He takes my hand, letting the handshake linger. Again, he eyes my hair.
“Sorry.” He catches himself and releases my hand. “You remind me of someone, and the resemblance is distracting.”
“Well, it’s a false resemblance. I had long brown hair six months ago, and I chopped it off at my chin and bleached it blond.” With a shrug, I touch the ends of my hair. “Midlife crisis, or so I’ve been told.”
He returns a careful nod.
“Francesca, sorry I’m late.”
I glance over Jack’s shoulder at Eloise, gripping the handrail while making a slow ascent up the porch stairs.
“Oh my goodness,” she says, out of breath. “Did I forget to lock the door? I could’ve sworn I locked it after tidying up yesterday. Since you’re staying a few days, I wanted to dust and vacuum.” Her gaze shifts to Jack. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Is she … blushing?
Eloise fans herself. “How did you manage to get him to come over here?”
“He picked—”
“I heard a car and saw her entering the house. Thought I should check it out,” he says, offering Eloise a pleasant smile. He gives off a peculiar vibe that I can’t figure out.
I reserve the right to hold his trustworthiness in question.
“Always looking out for me.” She rests her hand on his arm and gives it a playful squeeze. She’s flirting with him.
Again, he eyes me. Whoever I resemble must be someone he either loves or hates. The intensity is too strong for indifference.
“I’ll leave you, ladies, alone.”
“It was nice meeting you,” I say as he steps onto the porch and begins to close the door.
He pauses, not looking back at me as he offers a slight nod. Then the door shuts.
“He’s a very fine wine.” Eloise smirks.
My brow lifts. Did she just say what I think she said?
Her wink confirms it. She’s not wrong.
“You’re the only one who’s been here since …” Her weathered face droops with sadness when she meets my gaze.
I wordlessly acknowledge her painful observation. My brother and his wife spoke highly of their eighty-something year-old neighbor, and she always treated them like family. I don’t have to ask; she’s still grieving. It’s in her eyes, a reflection of my own.
“Since Lynn died,” I finish her sentence.
She drops her chin. “Such a tragedy. I’m heartbroken.”
“As am I,” I murmur past the lingering pang of resentment from drawing the short straw. It’s hard to say I’m too busy to go through their stuff when I no longer have a job.
“You’ll want to turn down the thermostat. I had it at seventy-five since no one’s been sleeping here.”
It’s a little warm, but it’s better than outside. Less humid. However, the memories are more suffocating than any amount of heat and humidity. It’s like they’re still here. Everything is tidy. Lynn kept an immaculate home, even in death. A friend found her dead from a pill overdose atop a neatly made bed.
No dirty dishes in the sink.
Every piece of laundry was clean except the clothes on her dead body.
Even the empty pill bottle sitting next to a glass of water on the nightstand had its cap replaced. All the details were neatly checked off a list, including a note by the glass.
Dear friends and family,
Forgive me for any inconvenience or grief my death may cause you. I think it’s best for everyone if I’m not here to grieve John and Steven for eternity. Please take solace in knowing our family is reunited.
Love,
Lynn
My brother took his life three years earlier after losing his job and drinking himself into a severe depression—a gun to his head behind the garage. I hope that inclination doesn’t run in the family. After leaving my position at the university, I inhaled a whole bag of chocolate chips. Suicide never entered my mind, nor did a drop of alcohol enter my body.
How Lynn managed to stay here is beyond me. She wanted to keep Steven at the same school. I get that, but this isn’t the only house in Boone.
Then …
My nephew hung himself in the backyard late on a Saturday night. The tree stands mere feet from where my brother put a gun to his head.
Lynn swallowed a bottle of pills the day after Steven hung himself. It’s as if she knew it would be less burdensome for everyone to attend a double funeral rather than two separate funerals—always so thoughtful.
An unimaginable tragedy. A mother and son succumbing to years of grief.
But I never saw that.
Lynn had friends and family. She worked at a dance studio in Rhodale, one town to the north, and loved her job. Of course, she loved John and missed him dearly. But his death didn’t cripple her. Last I knew, she was casually dating.