At the Quiet Edge(3)
“I hope this wasn’t about that big break-in at the pharmacy last week,” Sharon said with something suspiciously like glee. “Pill fiends! Maybe they’re looking to unload some goodies.” She glanced past Lily with narrowed eyes. “Anybody suspicious rent a locker recently? They could be hiding their stash while they wait for the heat to die down.”
“I hate to disappoint, but I haven’t rented out a new space in the past week. Things will probably be slow until summer moving season.”
“Well, keep your eyes peeled.”
“I will.”
Sharon started to turn, and Lily was sighing with relief when she abruptly swung back. “I almost forgot! Guess who my latest customer is? You’ll never believe it!” Without waiting for a response, she plunged into a breathless answer. “Kimmy Ross, Dr. Ross’s new wife! Oh my God, that has to be a big change after Francesca. No one was more shocked than I was that he got married so quickly after her death, but I suppose he is still a young man at fifty-one. And a thirty-year-old wife makes him even younger, I guess. Good Lord, she is not a fan of Francesca’s design aesthetic, let me tell you.”
Lily pressed her lips together, unwilling to reveal that she’d already suspected part of that story. Dr. Ross had moved some of his first wife’s old furniture into a storage unit just the month before. I can’t keep staring at it forever, he’d explained with a sad smile. Lily had suspected he’d happily keep the furniture if not for his new bride, and Sharon had just confirmed that.
“She’s tearing everything out,” Sharon added. “New kitchen, new bathroom, new paint, and some very expensive drapes and bedding. Gorgeous stuff. Teal and gray with brushed-nickel accents. Amazing they can afford that with his daughter in rehab, but that’s how it goes. Nour is making these stunning box valances for the bedroom. You should come over when they’re done.”
“Absolutely,” said Lily, taking a sidestep toward her office door. She’d try to avoid the visit, though. She didn’t enjoy oohing and aahing over furnishings she’d never be able to afford. Hell, she currently daydreamed of buying one of those basic Ikea beds with the attached bookshelves, so she definitely wasn’t springing for custom work anytime in the next twenty years.
Though maybe she could watch a few videos and learn how to make cute throw pillows. Sharon had offered scraps of her best fabrics in the past. Everett was twelve now. A better mom would’ve already upgraded him from his Adventure Time posters and SpongeBob pillowcases. His funny joke T-shirts rarely found their way to the laundry anymore. Her baby was growing up.
She could paint his bedroom and fix it up with more-mature décor, but . . . She sighed. Not until she’d finished her latest online coursework. Another bullet point of guilt to add to her endless list.
After waving a definitive goodbye, Lily escaped through the glass door of the storage center office, but it was only an excuse to get Sharon to leave. What Lily truly needed to do was head right back outside to check on the grounds and the fencing . . . and on the status of last night’s delivery.
Adrenaline flooded her blood again, and her heart sped right back up to its previous frantic beat. Why had she agreed to this? The first time had been an accident. The second time, her ego had gotten caught up in saying yes. This time she’d barely given it a thought, and now she felt sick with the risk she’d taken.
Managing this storage facility wasn’t just Lily’s job; it was her and Everett’s world. Their home, their security, their future. Their bubble.
She’d started feeling too safe. That was the problem. She’d landed this gig six years before, and she’d lost her gratitude for it somewhere along the way, distracted by her guilt over making Everett live like this, and resentful of how small and dingy her place in the world had become.
But small and dingy was better than out on the raw streets, exposed to every sight, sound, and threat that came along.
She may have fallen far, but she’d clawed her way back up to this ledge, and she’d be damned if she’d let her tired hands rest now. One more year and she’d be past the worst of it. She’d have her degree. She’d be ready to take on the world.
But not yet.
After standing quietly for a few minutes, she grabbed her keys and stepped outside, pausing to look for anyone watching or approaching. Things were usually quiet on weekdays before lunch. Though Saturdays could be busy enough to make her scream, nobody moved on a Monday.
She set off along the first row of large units, walking briskly, pretending to check the doors, but she was only eating up ground until she could get her eyes on her goal. She walked another row before cutting over to the high exterior fence. The top spiked up in razor wire, but none of that would make a difference if someone simply cut through the thick chain link to break in.
Everything looked secure, just as she’d suspected, the only anomaly the scraggly black cat that strolled past her without even a glance. When it wasn’t chasing field mice, it often lounged on the tops of stored trucks and cars, tolerating Lily’s presence as if Lily were the interloper.
She felt like one today, skulking around the property, eyes shifting at every shadow and whisper of wind. But this was part of her job. Checking on things.
Ears straining for the sound of approaching cars, Lily finally turned toward the open storage area of the facility. The maze of RVs and cars and covered boats never inspired a feeling of safety. It was a warren of hiding places and deep shadows, like a scene from an abandoned city in a zombie movie. A rabbit had once bounded out from a hiding spot and torn a genuine scream of terror from Lily. But today she already felt clammy with fear as she took a left turn into the deepest aisle and then another left into the next row of vehicles.