The Last Thing She Ever Did(65)

“Sorry, Owen,” Carole said. “Really, I am.”

Liz put her arm around her friend. “Come on, I’ll get you settled.” She led Carole into the small back bedroom that she and her brother had shared when they stayed for the summer. The room was full of memories. On one wall was the acrylic painting that her mother had made of Jimmy and Seth. They wore oversize orange life preservers that nearly swallowed their bony torsos. It was inspired by a photograph she’d taken a few years before the accident near the turnoff to Diamond Lake. It had hung over the fireplace in the living room at first. When Miranda stopped coming over, she told Bonnie it was because of the painting.

“I love it,” Miranda said, doing her utmost to hold her emotions inside. “I think you did a beautiful job. Maybe too good a job. I just have a hard time looking up and seeing him. Dan too. It just hurts.” Her voice cracked a little, and she looked away. “It’s a lovely tribute, but it still makes my heart ache.”

Bonnie had felt sick about hurting her friend. She apologized profusely and put the canvas in the bedroom that very afternoon. It didn’t seem to make much difference. Miranda and Dan Miller didn’t return much after the painting was moved out of sight.

Over time, the doctor and his stylish wife all but disappeared.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

MISSING: TWO WEEKS

The morning of the finalization of the funding by the venture capitalists, Owen tried not to wake his sleeping wife. She’d taken some pills after putting Carole in the guest room and had tossed and turned most of the night. At the moment she was snoring, and he was glad. As long as she was snoring, she was asleep. As long as she was asleep, she would make no trouble for him. He couldn’t have any trouble. Not on the biggest day of his life.

The night before, he had unzipped the protective plastic garment bag that held his new suit. It was a rich cocoa-brown Boglioli that he’d bought online and had tailored by a local seamstress. The suit had cost almost a thousand dollars, more money than he’d ever spent on a single article of clothing in his life. That would change, of course, with the cash coming from the East Coast and the promise to spin off Lumatyx into a multimillion-dollar enterprise. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric of the jacket. It was something Don Draper from Mad Men might have worn. Cool. Hip. A sixties vibe. If clothes make the man, then Owen Jarrett felt that he was unstoppable.

The only thing in his way was snoring in the bed.

He showered, shaved, and dressed. When he was done, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was everything he wanted to be. The money would come all at once. After today the tap would be turned on. He’d get that new car. A new house. The respect of his family, who had considered the high-tech industry a world populated by spoiled millennials who didn’t know how to do anything except make money, spend it, and talk about it all the time. His father had run a landscaping business, and his hands showed it, with calluses and a nail that had broken off an index finger and never grown back. Owen, his father once remarked, had the hands of a woman. The comment burned him. His hands were soft because he took care of them. He worked hard on having a man’s body. His new suit clung to his ripped physique. When he undressed at night, he found himself gazing at his abs, running his fingers over the six-pack that he’d nurtured by running, lifting weights, and eating right. He looked damned good.

And now he was going to be rich.

Fuck Dad. Fuck them all.

He made his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

“You clean up good, Owen.”

It was Carole.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Made some coffee. Pour you a cup?”

“Thanks,” he said.

Her skin was pale, like her hair. She tugged at her robe as she filled his travel mug.

“Big day for you,” she said, then started to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He stepped closer and touched her hand. “It’s okay,” he said.

“I keep seeing Charlie,” she said.

Owen didn’t know where to go with that. He wished to God that she’d just go back home. Seeing her and her constant tears ate at him. There was nothing he could say to make her feel better. Every word that came from his lips felt hollow. Just empty.

“Is there anything I can do?” he finally asked, although he knew there wasn’t. Besides, he’d done enough already.

“No,” she said, backing away toward the sink. “And this is your day, anyway. I remember what it was like to launch a new product in a new country. How it felt to put on a game face and go meet the people who had the power to get you what you came for.”

He was grateful for the change of subject. “Right,” he said, trying not to look at her. “Any advice?”

Carole was silent for the longest time. “Not really,” she said finally. “Enjoy every minute of it. Everything can change in a second. Savor all of it.”

Her tears started again.

Owen knew Carole wasn’t talking about the venture capital team. She was referring to her son and everything that had happened since the morning he went missing. He patted her shoulder and she drew close to him and started to give him a hug, then stopped herself.

“Sorry,” she said, backing off. “Don’t want to mess up your suit.”