A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(47)

She dropped two beer mugs at one table, a pizza tray at another. She darted from customer to customer, her face tight and controlled.

When she saw Art, she nodded. After she finished scribbling on an order pad, she wiped her hands on her apron and came toward him. "Hi," she said, picking up a plastic menu. "Just you?"

"Just me. I came in to see how you and Brian were doing."

Olivia stared at him expressionless for a long moment. Art's mouth tipped into a tentative smile. She dissolved into grief, threw her hands over her face and sobbed.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


Gwen hung up the phone and glared at Maricela. "Some people are just so..."

"What happened?" Maricela's forehead wrinkled with concern.

"Susan Langdon, the woman I just showed Sailor's Haven to, called to tell me she's canceling our appointment tomorrow because she's in escrow."

"What?"

"Yeah. She made an offer on another house last weekend, but wanted to hedge her bets, so she dragged me out today. Talk about a waste of time."

"It happens." Maricela said.

"I know. It's one reason I want to work with higher end clients. I can't handle all these flaky people."

"Totally, I get it." Maricela nodded gravely. "The rich are so much more stable. No flaky people in those high-income brackets."

"Ha. Very funny. Okay, they're not any better, but at least the commission makes it worth putting up with their crap."

"Do me a favor, chica. Don't forget us little people when you're a broker to the rich and famous."

Gwen escaped the office to go home for lunch. She'd just turned onto her street when her phone dinged. She pulled into the driveway and read the text from Tyler. He'd forgotten his Government book and paper. The paper was due today. Could she, pretty please, stop at home, pick them up and bring them to the school? He'd mow the lawn on Saturday.

Since the family was going to be camping Saturday, this wasn't much incentive, but she was sitting in the driveway and school wasn't far. She returned the text. "Next weekend. And pick up dog poop."

"Yuck. Yes," came back.

After delivering Tyler's book and paper to him, Gwen found herself in the hall outside Art's office. She hadn't intended to stop, but there she was at the door. She hesitated with her hand on the knob.

What was she hoping for? That his face would light up when he saw her? That he would drop everything, take her to lunch then home for a quick dessert like he used to? Nostalgia ached in her chest.

Millie sat at her desk in the front room as she had for the past thirty years. She'd become as much a part of the school as the statue of St. Barnabas standing in the courtyard. When she saw Gwen, she smiled.

"Hi, Millie," Gwen said.

"He's not here. I'm sorry."

When Millie referred to Art as "Him" or "He" it always sounded as if she used a capital "H", like there were no other "hims" or "hes" worth talking about.

"Oh, well, it was nothing important. I was dropping off a book for Tyler and thought—"

"How is everyone doing at home?" Millie asked. "I've been concerned about Him."

"We're fine. Art's fine."

"I'm not sure He is." Millie's face became solemn. "He hasn't been Himself ever since Brian McKibben's accident."

"Is that the third grader who was hit by a pickup two weeks ago?" Gwen said.

"Yes." Millie's eyebrows rose in surprise.

Should Gwen be more aware of the story?

"It's hit Him hard, for obvious reasons," Millie said.

For obvious reasons, what would those be? Art cared about all his students. Why was this one special? Gwen fiddled with the strap of her purse while she wondered how to ask what the obvious reasons were, without making the state of their marriage obvious.

"He does take responsibility for everything that happens at St. Barnabas, whether he should or not," Gwen said, fishing.

"Yes." Millie nodded her head emphatically. "And it's hard to get through to Him when He's blaming Himself for things that aren't His fault."

What wasn't his fault? Gwen tossed a little kindling onto Millie's fire of indignation. "It's great to be a person of character, but you can't take the weight of the world on your shoulders," she said.

"Exactly," Millie agreed. "But you know what He's like."

"I do." Gwen thought for a moment. "But I'd like to know your opinion. You know him better than anyone outside his family."

Millie inclined her head in modest agreement.

Gwen continued, "What do you think about his reaction to the incident. I mean, not the broad strokes. I get that." Gwen waved a hand to illustrate. "But the day to day stuff. The details."

Millie inhaled deeply through her nose and adjusted her glasses. "I've told Him over and over it's not His fault. It's tough for single mothers to find sitters, I understand that. But the principal of a school can't be held responsible for problems at home." She peered over the top of her bifocals, searching for understanding.

Gwen nodded, but was even more in the dark than before. How could it be Art's fault that Brian's mother didn't have a sitter?