Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(46)

“It’s been a long time coming…we really needed a renovation. Old houses, you know…”

“Right,” agrees Marin, who doesn’t know at all. She’s never lived in an old house, not even growing up in the Back Bay, where her nouveau riche parents were content living in a modern condo—a far cry from the stately Quinn mansion just a few blocks away.

Lauren’s kitchen is large—by Manhattan standards, anyway. She gestures at a stepladder pulled up to a window, drop cloths draped on the floor beneath it. “When you called this morning, I was about to paint the woodwork.”

“And I interrupted you. Sorry.”

“Oh please, it was a welcome interruption. I think I chose the wrong color. Here…” Lauren pries the can open with a screwdriver and holds it out. “Autumn Mist looks more like dog poop, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Really?”

“No. I was being polite. Definitely dog poop.”

Lauren joins her in a laugh, and Marin feels a little better.

It isn’t so bad, being here, in this house, in this kitchen. She’d been expecting a rush of emotion, or at the very least, an aura of bad vibes.

Maybe it would be different if she’d visited before, or if the place hadn’t been renovated. As it is, she’s merely a bit uncomfortable. But really, she feels that way everywhere she goes these days—which is why she really doesn’t go anywhere anymore.

“Guess I need to go back to the paint store.” Lauren replaces the lid and pounds it down with the screwdriver handle.

“So you’re doing all this yourself? Choosing colors, painting?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m impressed.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lauren looks more closely at her. “You’re not kidding. Trust me, it’s not that big a deal.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin with a project like this.” She and Garvey have always used professional decorators, professional painters, professional everything. Now that he’s gone…

“When you move into your new place, I can help you, if you want.” Seeing Marin’s expression, Lauren quickly adds, “Not that I’m any good at it. I mean, don’t feel obligated. I just thought—”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just—the move. Every time I think about it, I get a little worried about doing it alone.”

A little worried? She’s scared to death. But somehow, seeing what Lauren has accomplished, she feels almost ashamed to admit it.

“Hey, if I can do this”—Lauren sweeps a hand around the kitchen—“you can do that. You can do anything. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I’m not so sure. I mean, I know I’m an adult, but I’ve never really been on my own. I went from my parents’ house to college to Garvey.”

“Well, I was on my own, for years before I got married, and I was terrified when Nick left. Half the time, I’m still terrified.”

“You don’t seem like you are.”

“Neither do you.” Lauren pats her arm. “But you’re going to be okay. Just think…the worst is over.”

“I wish I could believe that. Right now, I wake up every day feeling helpless—and sometimes, I get overwhelmed by this sense that something horrible is going to happen any second, and…”

“That’s probably a panic attack, Marin—due to post-traumatic stress. Are you seeing anyone?”

“No! I’m still married to Garvey, even if—”

“No.” Lauren is smiling faintly. “That’s not what I meant. Listen, my kids went through this after—you know.”

She knows. After her husband had them kidnapped, and commissioned their father’s cold-blooded murder.

“Panic attacks—a constant feeling of impending doom—that’s what you’re feeling, right?”

Marin’s instinct is to deny it, and yet—isn’t that what she just said? That she feels as though something horrible is going to happen?

“Seriously—you need a good shrink.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because why? Because everyone in Manhattan knows who she is? Because she can’t bear the thought of admitting the truth about these frightening episodes to a total stranger? Because Garvey didn’t believe in shrinks?

“There’s nothing wrong with needing outside help, Marin. My sister lives in Manhattan, and she got me a bunch of names there back when I was looking for a family therapist who could treat all four of us. I wound up sticking with someone here, but if you want, I could—”

“No. No, that’s okay. I’m okay. Really.”

She hates the way Lauren is looking at her, as though she can read Marin’s mind. Maybe she can, because she says, “A shrink isn’t the only place to find peace after what you’ve been through, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can lean on your friends, or you can go to church…”

“Church? You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I’ve been going lately, with Sam. It helps.”