If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(69)

We rode in silence until we got to Mom’s house, which could also use a coat of fresh paint. I put the car in park in the driveway and leaned over to kiss her cheek, wanting to end the day on a better note. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She got out of the car.

Erin paused on the edge of the back seat. “You okay?”

I didn’t want to cry but was grateful she’d thought to ask. I nodded, so she scooted out and closed the door. She then looped her arm through our mom’s and pointed at something in the sky as they made their way up the walkway. Neither stooped to pull the weeds growing between the pavers, nor did Mom resist Erin’s hold on her. Mo made a brief appearance after they opened the front door, and then they all went inside.

My hand rested on the key as I debated turning off the ignition and following them instead of facing another evening alone. I missed companionship. Warmth. The welcoming smile of someone who loved me. Most days my mom provided those things, but while carbs and cheese and Mo cuddling on my lap sounded like heaven, I knew no one would be handing out hugs tonight. Work would have to be my solace.

Other teachers—lazier ones—phoned in parent conferences, but I’d sworn I’d never become one of them. My personal life might be in pieces, but Lyle couldn’t steal my professional reputation without my help.

Yet once I entered my home—a prison I couldn’t even sell—the walls closed in.

While a plate of leftover pasta spun in the microwave, my gaze drifted to the memory jar—now a farce. My jaw clenched as I pictured Lyle and Ebba snuggled on the bow of a yacht like Kate and Leo. In one swift movement, the jar crashed to the floor.

The microwave beeped, but I remained frozen amid the glittering shards scattered across the tile. A dozen or so pink scrolls of paper lay among the wreckage.

Squatting, I picked one to read.

Lyle bought me chicken noodle soup from Oak & Almond because I was sick, and he did two loads of laundry so I could rest.

Gestures like that had coaxed me into believing in his love, his lies. What I hadn’t recognized until after my conversation with Lyle’s dad was how he’d crowed about those actions for weeks afterward, making me work twice as hard to thank him for such thoughtfulness. I grabbed another scrap of paper.

Watched the Jim Gaffigan special on TV with Lyle and laughed so hard my stomach ached.

Date night at home had been my favorite. Our little cocoon—or love nest, as some say. That’s what this home used to be.

One by one, I collected the rest of the scrolls, scanning each to discover that Lyle hadn’t contributed a single memory in three months. He’d probably been carrying on his affair for the duration, planning his escape while luring me deeper into a life he knew I could never count on.

I released the papers into the trash like unwanted confetti, then got the broom and swept up my spectacular mess. No tears, only anger spreading through my limbs like a fever.

All my life I’d been reliable. A team player. Generous with my time and love. Loyal. Hardworking. Self-sacrificing. What had it all gotten me? No one thought me any more special than anyone else. My own husband didn’t even care enough about my feelings not to humiliate me and steal from my family.

What would my habits teach my daughter about love and commitment? About me? If I didn’t want Willa to feel unworthy and underappreciated like me, I’d have to change everything . . .

But first I had to prepare for the parent meetings.





CHAPTER TWELVE

ERIN

“Are you sure you want to add lime to this geranium scent?” My mother wrinkled her nose while sniffing it.

“Absolutely.” I continued stirring the coconut and almond oils together with the beeswax and shea butter in the double boiler. “But first we add the vitamin E, remember?”

She gave me “the look” that said she was sick of me testing her memory every day. Five days since the doctor appointment and still no news. I raised my hands apologetically while she measured a teaspoon of vitamin E oil and put it in the glass bowl.

Her behavior had actually been better lately—except for the day she went to the pharmacy to get her cholesterol medication but came back with only sunscreen and shampoo. When I realized what she’d done, I ran back to get her prescription and left it on her bathroom vanity without calling out her brain fart. Things were tense enough with Lyle on the run. Oh, then there was the chicken that got charred to a crisp, but Aunt Dodo had a habit of calling when my mom was cooking, and I couldn’t quite blame her for getting sidetracked. But other than those incidents, she’d been focusing very hard on proving that she was “fine.”

“Now let’s add the essential oils. The lime is a nice contrast note. Trust me, you’ll like it. A perfect summer scent. You won’t even need perfume.” I stepped back and let her take over so I could pop into the garage to get the mini mason jars.

I stared at the now-empty corner where I normally stashed my supplies. Crap! I ducked back into the kitchen. “Mom, did you throw out my box of mason jars?”

“No.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I put them up on the shelf by the lawn mower. If you want to run a business, you need to be organized, Erin. You should be keeping inventory lists and looking for discounts on supplies.”

“When I get bigger, I’ll worry about that.”