The Passing Storm(90)

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.” He slid his empty bowl toward hers. “I cooked. You clean up.” He turned to her father. “What are your thoughts on watching the Cavs? Game’s on soon.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Carrying the bowls to the sink, Rae darted a glance. “Griffin, it’s starting to feel like you’ve moved in permanently. What if I don’t want to watch the Cavs? You have your own house—I’ve seen it. A nice, cozy place right next door to Yuna’s. Feel free to visit your home if I’m in the mood for a movie.”

“I think I’ll put my place up for sale,” he teased.

“Hey. Totally not a tortoise response. Slow down!”

His eyes flashed. “Make me,” he murmured in a way that made her breathless.

Quinn flipped open the dishwasher. “I don’t mind if Griffin moves in.” Clearly, he wasn’t well versed in adult flirtation. He thought Griffin was serious. “Can we vote?” he added, lifting his hand. “What do you say, Connor? Are you with me?”

“Well, son . . . responsible adults don’t move in with each other willy-nilly. If they’re in love, they get married first.” Clearing his throat, Connor grinned with pure mischief. “Now, don’t get me wrong. I hope there’s an election soon on the matter, because I’ll gladly cast my vote.”

Playing along, Griffin raised his hand. Then he leveled Rae with a heated glance. She caught herself sighing.

The doorbell rang.

Embarrassed, she pivoted away. “I’ll get it,” she said.

On the front stoop, Griffin’s sister and his niece both looked nervous.

Sally offered an apologetic smile. “We’re sorry to barge in like this.”

“It’s fine,” Rae assured her.

Relief crested in Sally’s eyes. “My brother mentioned you wanted to speak with Jackie later this week and, well, my daughter wanted to drop by anyway. She insisted, in fact. Not to stay, of course. We don’t want to intrude.” The relief melted beneath the anxiety bringing her nervous hands to her waist. “There’s something else, however. I hope you don’t mind if we take care of that first.”

Turning, Sally cast a pointed look at the driver of the other car. A silver BMW that Rae hadn’t noticed.

Katherine.

Startled, Rae glanced at the passenger side. Katherine had arrived by herself—her daughter, Stella, wasn’t in the car.





Chapter 33


Katherine cut the engine and got out. Rae wondered at Sally’s stern gaze, still trained on her best friend as Katherine wavered beside the BMW in her elegant coat. She clutched a Kate Spade bag. The breeze fluttered a tendril of her brown coif.

Sally’s eyes continued to throw darts.

With an air of disbelief, Rae watched the interplay between the two women. Then with anger, rippling through her so quickly she feared she couldn’t contain it.

The impulse to slam the door shut nearly took hold. I can’t deal with Katherine. For a terrible instant, her thoughts wheeled back to the night of Lark’s death. Nothing good will come from talking to her. Then Rae’s attention returned to young Jackie, shivering on the front stoop beside her mother; biting the side of her lip, Jackie rocked from foot to foot. Her eyes leaped from the driveway to the house and then back again.

Jackie was also watching the three women, sensing every current snapping and sparking between them.

Something other than sorrow carried Rae outside. She wasn’t sure how to define the emotion as she swept past Sally and her daughter and started across the icy, snow-crusted lawn. A beeline toward Katherine, forgoing the front walk or the pretense of congeniality—or shoes, for that matter. She’d left them beneath the kitchen table while enjoying Griffin’s superb meal.

Smart, Rae. Stalking outside in your bare feet. It’ll be just your luck if you lose your balance and—

Ten paces from the driveway, the treacherous ice took hold. Rae fell hard on her side.

Beside the car, Katherine dropped her purse. At an impressive speed for a woman in three-inch heels, she raced across the grass.

“Rae! Are you hurt?” Falling to her knees, she helped Rae into a sitting position.

“Don’t touch me!”

Rae shoved her back. Shoved her hard enough, in fact, to push her onto her bottom. Mud rained down on them both. For painful seconds, they sat staring at each other. Rae felt sick, and embarrassed, and still angry as Katherine heaved in a breath.

On the exhale, Katherine began to sob.

“It’s the migraines,” she blurted, clutching the sodden grass. “They started again, right after my divorce. They’re blinding. I’ve tried everything from yoga to meditation, but they still come. Unpredictably. I knew it was foolish not to fill the scrip earlier in the week, but Stella kept insisting we needed Halloween decorations for the slumber party. I forgot to fill the scrip. After the girls arrived, I shouldn’t have left . . . I was only gone for thirty minutes, but that’s no excuse. It’s my fault you lost your daughter.”

A buzzing started in Rae’s ears. “Yes, it is.”

“I know. I’d give anything to bring her back.”

Another sob broke from her throat, stirring Rae’s pity. Katherine appeared broken, her fingers lifting from the grass to swipe the tears away, unaware that she was leaving dabs of mud on her cheeks. She was more distraught over Rae’s unbearable loss than would’ve been imaginable a scant five minutes ago.