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She paused by the French doors in the kitchen, wondering if a few minutes outside would make her feel better. Mara had said the house didn’t have an alarm, so she didn’t have to worry about that. But it was late and she wasn’t sure about wandering around an unfamiliar backyard.
“I need to get some sleep,” she murmured and turned to head to the stairs. Just then the kitchen overhead lights went on.
She turned and saw Erica standing by the far entrance to the kitchen. The two women stared at each other. Allison took in her host’s loungewear set with loose but well-fitting cropped pants and a sleeveless tank, both done in a charming floral print. Erica also had on fluffy slippers that should have looked silly on a woman her age, but didn’t.
In contrast Allison wore a voluminous size 3X nightgown she’d bought at a discount store. The garment was multiple times too big for her, but she appreciated how she could toss and turn without it getting tangled around her. The nightgown was like sleeping under a tent. She’d pulled on a ratty old shawl she’d found while she’d been going through the clothes, deciding what to bring in the house and what to put in storage. Her own robe was just her regular size and in no way equipped to handle her massive belly, and she hadn’t been comfortable not having anything to pass as a bathrobe. Instead of slippers, she had worn flip-flops. She looked and felt like some tragic case, sitting on the corner of an intersection, trying not to make eye contact with passersby.
“I was hoping you could sleep,” Erica said into the silence. “I know you’re exhausted.”
“I had a good couple of hours and then I was just awake.”
“I’m sure it’s all the stress of what’s happened, plus being here. Give it a little time, you’ll settle in.”
“Why are you up so late?”
Erica’s smile was faint. “There’s been a little stress for me, too. Plus Summer’s decided she wants to go see her father.”
“In jail? That’s not a good idea. I know she misses him, but it’s not a great environment.” Allison thought about how upsetting her visits to Peter had been. “She won’t like it.”
“That’s what I told her, but she’s determined. Apparently my mother has agreed to take her.”
“Mara?” Allison managed a smile. “She seems very nice.”
“She’s a wonderful woman. Occasionally she gets on my nerves, but that’s what mothers do.” Erica glanced toward the stove, then back at Allison. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I know it’s a cliché, but under the circumstances, it might be exactly what we both need.”
Allison hesitated, not sure she wanted to spend any more time with Peter’s ex-wife. But hot chocolate did sound good and despite the fact that Erica was the last person on earth she could be friends with, right now she needed a little company to keep the worry at bay.
“That sounds nice. Thank you.”
Erica motioned to the island. Allison lumbered over and slid onto one of the stools there. Erica pulled a small pan out of a wide, deep drawer under the cooktop and set it on the counter. She collected milk and what looked like a thick bar of chocolate.
She measured out milk and poured it into the pan. After setting it on the cooktop, she checked the heat, then began breaking pieces of solid chocolate into a small bowl.
“You don’t use a mix?” Allison blurted, thinking of the can of Hershey’s she’d put on “her” shelves in the pantry. “Jackson loves it.”
“This is Spanish chocolate. Peter and I discovered it years ago when we spent time in Madrid and Barcelona. It has a lovely rich flavor and is less sweet. I order the chocolate and my favorite olive oil from a place that imports delicacies from Spain.” She smiled. “They also have a frozen churro that is surprisingly delicious. You bake them for a few minutes in the oven, roll them in cinnamon and sugar and voilà! Better than a doughnut any day. We keep them in the freezer. Help yourself. Jackson will love them.”
Allison knew she was operating at about thirty percent of her normal brain energy, but she couldn’t grasp the concept. Erica ordered special chocolate and olive oil from Spain? Couldn’t she just buy what was at the grocery store?
Obviously not, she told herself. The local stuff probably wasn’t good enough for her.
The bitchy mental comment was immediately followed by guilt. Erica had been nothing but kind—inviting her into her home, taking care of Jackson the way she had. So far there hadn’t been any evidence of the mean-spirited, evil ex Peter had always talked about.
Silence weighed on the kitchen. Allison found herself regretting accepting the offer of hot chocolate. She would rather just go back to bed, even if that meant another panic attack. She searched for a neutral topic for the next fifteen minutes.
“Your house is beautiful,” she said. “I’ve only seen parts of it, but it’s really lovely.”
“Thank you. When you’re feeling up to it, you should explore. There’s a finished basement downstairs with a huge living area, a small kitchen and a couple of bedrooms. I think the previous owners used it as a rental. There’s a separate entrance around back.”
She dropped pieces of chocolate into the warming milk and stirred. “Summer talks about that being her ‘digs’ when she goes off to college. Somewhere to come back to that allows her total independence. Personally, I don’t see her doing it. She likes to be a part of things too much.”
Allison stared at the other woman. “Why didn’t you put me down there? I’d be out of your way and Summer could have kept her bedroom.”
Erica glanced at her. “You’re pregnant, with a toddler. Living down there would be the same as living in an apartment. You need support, Allison. People around to pick up the slack. Once Bethany’s born, you’ll need our help. Maybe it’s something to consider six months from now. I don’t know. We’ll have to talk.”
Allison felt the room spin a little. Six months from now? Six months? She wasn’t going to be here that long! She couldn’t be. She had a life and Peter, plus her kids. She needed to be making plans and come up with a schedule or something.
Only just thinking about that exhausted her already burned-out brain. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Or next week. She would pull herself together and start to strategize.
