A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(54)

"Possibly. I'm considering several beach communities." Then, digging for more information, I added, "This seems like a nice, safe neighborhood."

"Oh, it is. We have a very active neighborhood watch committee. I'm on it. I live right next door." She pointed to a house in bad need of a paint job.

"Your neighbors must be grateful to have someone like you on the block."

She threw her shoulders back and displayed a set of crooked teeth. "I'm sure you could get Gwen Bishop, she's the agent, to show you the house."

"Maybe I will," I said. "Maybe I will."

I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw a silver Honda advancing toward me. Gwen had a silver Honda. I didn't want to be seen here. Not yet. The darkening sky opened, and a sprinkle of rain hit my windshield.

"I'd better get going, and you'd better get inside where it's dry," I said. "It's going to be a nasty night."





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


The sun was setting. Deep magenta clouds bloomed above a midnight blue sea. They were the same color as the roses Gwen had bought on impulse on her way out of Gelson's Market. It was a romantic, fairytale sky—a perfect setting for a fantasy. She was in free fall, hurtling toward a storybook land, parachute unopened. The classical station she kept her car radio tuned to played a Leclair violin concerto. The music added to her Cinderella's-ball mood.

She exited the 5 freeway and turned onto Pacific Coast Highway. Her cell phone rang-hunting horns jarring through the strain of strings from the radio. The foxhunt clarion was Art's ring. She felt anger rising in her chest. She wouldn't answer. She didn't want to mar her evening with images of Art and the waitress.

The horns sounded again. She looked at her phone and bit her lower lip. She didn't want to talk to him, but maybe it was best to get it over with. She answered on the fifth ring. "Hi."

"Hi, honey. How're things back at the ranch?"

"Fine. Did you make it up the mountain in one piece?" She struggled to keep her voice even and controlled.

"Yeah, no problem. We stopped at In-N-Out on the way, but we still got here in time to pitch the tent before dark. The kids are scrounging for kindling now."

"Don't let them wander too far. There are bears up there."

Art laughed. He had a nice laugh. A round laugh that used to roll out of him often. She'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. "They're fine. The only bear they'll see this weekend is the one in the Big Bear Zoo. Emily wants to visit tomorrow."

"Humor me and keep an eye on them." Gwen's voice sounded peevish, even to herself. She cleared her throat.

"So, what're you up to tonight? Working?" Art asked.

"Yes, I told you that. I may stop by Maricela's later if I get my paperwork done." The lies came so naturally, it made her a little nervous.

Art's voice softened. "Well, we wish you were here. Emily is missing her mommy already."

A parental hand reached around Gwen's heart and squeezed. Doubt and fear dropped like a pebbles into her belly. Yesterday she'd been so positive about what she'd seen in the alley. Now, listening to Art's familiar chatter on the line, she felt unsure. Yesterday, she hadn't known him. It was like he'd been body snatched. Now, he sounded like her husband.

"I gave the boys the talk, you know, 'Be nice to your sister. You're the big guys. You need to include her in what you're doing and keep an eye on her.' Tyler is taking it almost too seriously. He hasn't let her out of his sight since we hit the campground."

"Good for him," Gwen said.

"Hey, Jason, put that down," Art yelled. "I gotta go. The natives are restless."

"Okay, have a good time."

"Will do. Call you tomorrow." His voice went deep and throaty. "Love you, babe." The line went dead.

The car felt hollow.

Love you, babe.

Did he?

A dark, Wagnerian symphony had replaced the violin concerto. Gwen reached out, shut off the radio and heard the rumble of thunder. They'd been threatening rain all week. Art had almost canceled the camping trip.

She returned her phone to her purse and her arm brushed the roses lying on the passenger seat, releasing their scent. Unexpected memories of her grandmother's funeral came to her mind. She shook them off.

As Gwen pulled off the freeway into Dana Point, the first fat drops hit her windshield. The magenta clouds looked like they were bleeding. Morbid thoughts. Tonight was supposed to be about celebration. She'd lick her wounds tomorrow.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT


"I give up," Jason said, threw his flint and steel down and crossed his arms over his chest. "There must be something wrong with it. I did it just like the package said."

"It's pretty damp out." Art rested a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "We can try again tomorrow." Art pulled a Bic lighter out of his jacket pocket and soon had the kindling the kids had collected blazing. Jason slumped onto a tree stump and began thumbing through his Boy Scout Camping Merit Badge book.

Art was glad they'd made the trip even though Gwen hadn't joined them. He needed to spend some father-son time with Jason. The sullen attitude his oldest had adopted since the beginning of the school year, peeled away with the miles. By the time they'd pitched the tent, Jason seemed to forget he wasn't supposed to be excited about dumb things like camping, or nature, or having fun with his family.