A Forever Home. Lynn Patrick
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teeth,” one of the twins answered, sounding as if the toothbrush were in her mouth.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” Closing the door again, she said, “You and Alex make the perfect couple, and I’m so happy for you.” She pulled her old clothes back on. “I just don’t want the relatives who’ll come in for the wedding pitying me or something.”
“Pitying you? Why would they?”
“You know, because I’m a widow and all.”
Heather opened the nightstand drawer where she still kept a small photo of her late husband. She ran a fingertip around his face. Her memories of Scott were getting a little hazy, so every night before she went to bed, she looked at the photo and called up a nice memory of the two of them together.
Heather went on. “I know they’re going to ask me about Scott—how he died, how I’m doing without him, how my poor girls are doing growing up without a father.”
And what could she say? She still missed him. The girls missed him, Taylor especially. She’d watched that DVD so many times that Heather was beginning to worry it wasn’t healthy for her daughter. Still she couldn’t take the little girl’s Daddy away from her.
“Wow,” Kristen mused, “you’ve imagined a whole scenario with the relatives.”
“Do you have a better one for me?”
“Yeah, bring a date. With you on another man’s arm, they won’t be able to ask you about Scott.”
“Except that I’m not dating anyone.”
And hadn’t ever dated any other man in her whole life other than Scott. Part of her didn’t want to. His death had left her so brokenhearted that she couldn’t ever see herself taking another chance on love.
“So start dating,” Kristen insisted. “Aunt Margaret invited John to be her date.”
“I’m glad they connected. It’s nice to know it’s never too late for love.”
Aunt Margaret was nearing seventy and John was five years older. They’d only met the summer before, but they made a perfect couple. Heather had to admit she envied that. She just didn’t know if she was ready for another relationship.
“It’s not too late for you, either,” Kristen was saying. “You could start slow. If you’re uncomfortable calling it a date, ask a male friend to accompany you.”
“I can’t think of anyone to ask.”
The only single man of an appropriate age she’d met lately was The Terminator, and he certainly wasn’t her type. She was glad when the girls yelled, “Mo-o-om!” and knocked the image of him right out of her head.
“Bath time,” she told Kristen.
“And time for me to leave.”
Heather opened the bedroom door and saw the twins wedged in the bathroom doorway.
“C’mon, Mommy,” Addison said. “Bath time!”
Taylor echoed her twin. “Bath time!”
“Give me just a minute to see your aunt to the front door.”
Kristen was already halfway there, the dog shadowing her. She stopped and gave Heather a quick hug. “Just remember what I said about asking someone to accompany you to the wedding.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to forget.”
An image of Rick Slater was in her mind again, tempting Heather as Kristen left, and she closed and locked the front door behind her sister.
She hesitated just a moment to think about Rick...to wonder what he might look like without those sunglasses...
What sounded like a tidal wave accompanied by little girl squeals brought her around.
“What’s going on?” she yelled before realizing the dog had disappeared.
It seemed everyone was getting a bath tonight.
* * *
WAKING IN THE middle of the night had become an unwelcome habit for Cora. And it didn’t take an unusual sound to rouse her from sleep. It was simply the expectation of some sort of noise occurring. Tonight she didn’t remember anything unusual. She awakened, lay there for a while, then rose to fix some chamomile tea in the little electric teapot she’d set up in her bathroom. The teapot made things easier in that she didn’t have to leave her suite. A small nightlight made the bedside lamp unnecessary.
Sitting in the comfortable chair beside the bank of windows, she sipped her tea and watched flashes of lightning illuminate the sky over the lake, followed by a rumble of thunder. A storm was brewing. Perhaps it had simply been thunder that had invaded her dreams.
She hated having to be on guard all the time.
At least a private investigator was now in residence.
Not that he could be everywhere at once.
A cool breeze that smelled of fresh rain lifted the curtains. Thinking that perhaps she ought to lower the windows, Cora put down her cup, rose and leaned on the sill.
Storms over the lake had always fascinated her, so she didn’t immediately adjust the windows. Instead, she looked out from her attic-level quarters, which gave her a perfect view of the show. For a moment she was mesmerized by the electric light dancing in the sky.
Until another movement closer by captured her attention.
She dropped her gaze to search for the source.
Lightning flashed again and she could see the second-floor balcony and the small wiry man with red hair standing on end who perched there, back stiff, body wired with tension.
With a start, she thought she recognized him. Red Flanagan?
Could it be? He certainly reminded her of the man in the portrait hung in the rotunda.
Shocked, Cora gripped the windowsill and held her breath.
The sky went dark and she blinked several times, then took another look that made her stomach whirl.
The balcony stood empty.
Lightning flashed again, confirming that no one was there now...if anyone had ever been there at all. She’d thought the intruder was a flesh-and-blood man. But now she wondered. Surely no one these days could look exactly like an eighty-year-old portrait.
Trembling from the inside out, she closed the windows, and with shaking hands, locked them.
Not that locked windows could stop a ghost...
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