Wish You Were Gone(39)
But today, you would never know it. As Lizzie trailed Margot up to the second-floor hallway, she half wanted to drop-kick the woman out the door. She couldn’t leave this place. She couldn’t trust that whoever bought it wouldn’t destroy everything she’d done to make it a home—her home. Willow’s home.
It was when she really looked around the house that she felt like she was worth something.
Of course, she’d felt a similar swell of pride earlier when Gray latched on to her comment about James Walsh’s will. It was basically the first time the woman had acknowledged Lizzie had something to contribute to one of their conversations. So pathetic, she thought now. One affirmation from Gray Garrison had made her morning.
But it wasn’t just that. Something was off with Gray. She wasn’t holding herself with the same haughty tilt of her head that Lizzie was used to. Did it have something to do with Darnell? Lizzie couldn’t get it out of her head, the way Gray had looked at him as he stood at the train station yesterday morning. She hadn’t meant to spy—not really. But she’d been coming out of the café, all bolstered by a morning flirt with Ben, and the station was right across the way. Spotting Gray’s car there had made her do a double take, and then there was the way Gray’s eyes were locked on her husband. She’d looked almost… scared.
“And what’s in here?” Margot asked, reaching for the closed door to Willow’s room as if she was about to open a present.
“Oh, please forgive the mess,” Lizzie began to say, preemptively embarrassed. “My daughter—”
But the words died in her throat. Willow’s room was spotless. When Lizzie had asked her to straighten up the night before, she hadn’t expected Willow to do anything other than maybe throw some clothes in the hamper, but this? One could actually walk the hardwood floors, see the antique moldings. The built-in bookshelves around her bed had been… dusted? And the bed was made. The room even smelled fresh, like dryer sheets had been left out all night. Maybe that talking-to Officer Miller had given Willow had really struck a chord with her. She had been fairly quiet and noncombative the last few days.
“Another lovely room,” Margot said, turning in a circle and looking up at the crystal chandelier Lizzie had installed when Willow went through her brief glam phase in fourth grade. She made a note of something on her iPad, then looked up at Lizzie, curiosity lining her pretty, middle-aged face. “So, why are you selling?”
“Oh.” Lizzie felt flustered by the question and touched the curls near her ear. “I’ve just had some unforeseen financial challenges crop up,” she said, then laced her fingers together. “And I’m trying to do the responsible thing.”
“Well, I’m happy to work with you. I can get an appraiser up here early next week and we can go from there.” The woman handed Lizzie her card. “When you do decide to put it on the market, make sure you have someplace to go, because it’ll get snapped up quickly.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said, and pushed the card deep into her pocket. There was still one thing that could save her. It was a long shot, but all she had to do was hang in a little longer and maybe it would come through. Maybe she wouldn’t have to sell her home. But if it did come through, she’d hardly have a reason to stay, a thought that made her feel hollow. Life. It just kept getting more and more complicated. “I’ll walk you out.”
GRAY
Gray strode through the offices of Garrison & Walsh, chin up, looking no one in the eye. The place was abuzz, phones ringing, people gathered at each other’s desks, gossiping—surely talking about the boss and whether everything was going to hell. Some of them fell silent as she passed, but she kept her eyes on her husband’s closed office door.
“Mrs. Garrison,” Carlos said, standing up from his glass desk. Darnell’s assistant was normally one of Gray’s favorite people, but she didn’t have time for chitchat right now. His tie was slightly loosened and he looked like he could use a nap. “He’s not here.”
“I know,” Gray said smoothly, though she’d been hoping he would be back by now. It was almost 4 p.m. Certainly he had to be done fucking up his entire life’s work at this hour. “I’m just going to wait for him in here.”
She shoved open the door and paused at the threshold. Darnell’s office was a disaster area. There were papers everywhere, workout clothes balled on the leather couch. He’d taken most of the framed jerseys off the walls and they sat piled beneath the flat-screen TV, their nails sticking out and a few holes visible. Shaking, she had just started to close the door behind her when Dante and Derek appeared as if from nowhere.
“Mom?” Dante said and engulfed her in a cigarette-smoke-scented hug. “What’s going on? Have you talked to Dad?”
“I haven’t yet, but that’s why I’m here,” she said, looking each of her boys steadily in the eye. Normally she would lecture Dante about the smoking, but she couldn’t focus on that battle right now. “You two just get back to your desks and go about business as usual. I’m sure everyone here is taking their cues from you right now.”
The twins exchanged a dubious look but did as they were told. Gray closed the office door and walked over to Darnell’s workspace. Next to his computer was a pile of random paperwork, and it had been dropped atop a coffee spill that had long since dried.