Page 28 of Passion and Privilege

“I am the best, you know,” she declared with a confidence that resonated with a quiet pride. “Now, I have to get to work.”

She turned and walked away. I watched her until she disappeared back into the bustle of work before I turned to retreat back into my office. As I walked through the rooms, stripped down to their bare bones, I could see the future laid out before me, as clear as the blueprints Catherine had shown me.

I found myself sliding my hand over the banister. It was slick, smooth, and gleaming. It reminded me of a time when I was probably about six. I got the wild idea to copy something I’d seen in a movie. I tried to slide down the banister.

The memory was vivid, a snapshot of my young, adventurous self getting up to no good like my grandmother always said. I remember I launched myself forward, sailing down with a holler of triumph. Unfortunately, my thrill ride was short-lived. My grandmother had come into the room just in time to see me take a header about halfway down.

I remembered the shocked expression of my grandmother’s face and her shrill cry as she watched me tumble down. It was followed by pain shooting through my small body. Grandma had rushed over and picked me up, cradling me in her arms as she inspected me for any significant injuries. There were tears in her eyes, and I remember being more scared of those than my own pain.

She had scolded me as she carried me to the kitchen to inspect my injuries. Somehow, I had been unscathed.

Chapter Thirteen

Catherine

I WAS WORKING IN THE workshop on some trim for Timothy’s house project when the postman walked in. I had known Phil for as long as I could remember. He’d been our postman forever. “Hi, Phil,” I waved, shutting off the router.

“Hey there, young lady. You’re looking prettier than ever.”

“Thank you.” I smiled and took the mail. “How’s Molly?”

“She’s enjoying retirement.”

“And what about you?” I asked. “Are you going to retire anytime soon?”

“Oh, I’m thinking about it,” he said, grinning. “She’s pushing me to take her on some cruise.”

“I would hate to see you go, but I think you should. You deserve it.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Have a good day.”

I took the stack of letters, flipping through bills and payments from customers. But then my eyes caught the distinctive handwriting on a particular envelope. Scott’s handwriting. I pulled it out, tossing everything else on a workbench. My heart was pounding. In the back of my mind, I knew what I was looking at but I refused to believe it. My stomach knotted as I tore it open, revealing a pristine wedding invitation.

My mind raced, questions pounding like a drum. “No,” I whispered. “What the hell?”

It was an invitation to his wedding. We had broken up less than a month ago. I slowly sank back onto the stool.

My hands were shaking and my eyes filled up with tears. It wasn’t pride keeping them back, but a sense of betrayal and disbelief. How could he move on so quickly? How could he replace me with someone else?

Emily. Someone else had a name. She was the woman from the restaurant. The woman he moved to Lake Placid to be with.

It felt like I had been hit by one of the heavy timbers we used. My heart was just as heavy and battered. I put my head into my hands, trying to stifle the cry that was building up inside me.

Amber sauntered into the workshop, all smiles, until she saw my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with concern. “What happened? Did you cut a finger off?”

I handed her the invitation without a word. Her shock mirrored mine. “No way,” Amber muttered, scanning the crisp invitation card. She frowned and looked up to meet my eyes. “You’re kidding, right? This is some sick joke?”

I shook my head, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. “Why would I joke about something like this, Amber?”

Her gaze dropped back to the card. “I’m sorry, Catherine.”

“Thanks.”

“I bet she’s pregnant, and this is a shotgun wedding,” she declared.

My nausea deepened. Pregnant? It was a possibility I hadn’t even considered.