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“Andy?” I poke my head around a corner, but I don’t see him. “Andy?” I call his name a little louder when I hear the sound of quick steps coming down the hallway.
“Mrs. Ashford.” He smiles, his arms outstretched. “How are you?”
“Hi, Andy. Sorry, I know I’ve been a little out of touch lately.” I wrap my arms around him, sliding the ring off my finger and into my pocket before he notices it. That’s a conversation I’m not too ready to have at the moment. “Why don’t we grab coffee in the kitchen?”
“I understand, Mrs. Ashford, I wouldn’t want to live here either,” he says after I explain to him my plan to sell the house. “And it couldn’t come at a more perfect time for me personally. My wife and I were just talking about moving away, closer to our two sons and grandchildren.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved that makes me feel. I know that probably sounds selfish, but with everything that’s happened lately, I didn’t want to leave you hanging if you planned to continue working.”
“I think my wife might run off without me if I continued to work.” He laughs, then grabs my hands, giving them a squeeze as tears prick his eyes. “I’ve loved working here and I do hope that you can heal and find happiness, Mrs. Ashford. You deserve it.” I don’t know how much he knows or what he’s heard about Dane, but the pity in his eyes tells me he’s heard something.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks and I swallow down my emotion. “Now, I need to find Tilly and speak with her before going through some things in the house.”
“Oh, she’s off today.”
“That’s right. I forgot she mentioned she would be on vacation this week. Why don’t you head out too. I’m just going to be working in the house here.”
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“None at all.” I wave away his offer. “Go take your wife to lunch and start enjoying your retirement.”
After Andy leaves, I walk through the house. It’s eerily quiet, only the sound of my footsteps echoing throughout the oversized marble halls. I never cared for this house; it felt like I was living in a tomb. It’s cold and oversized, nothing about it feeling warm or homey.
I walk up the main stairs and down one of the hallways toward my old bedroom. I feel my pulse quicken the closer I get to the room. I look to my right as I step over the threshold, a large patch of carpet still missing where it was removed due to blood spatter. I had the wall cleaned and repainted, but I never got around to having the carpet redone. I make a note on my phone that it will have to be done before the house is listed.
I stare at myself in the photos hanging on the walls; my face doesn’t even look recognizable in most of them. I can’t help but wonder if part of me knew something was wrong. I close my eyes, trying to remember the thoughts that I struggled with, the moments of weakness when I felt guilt for wanting more out of life. I remember feeling it the night of my fifth anniversary party.
I look over at the vanity that I was sitting in, when I felt a paralyzing feeling that this was as good as it was ever going to get. That this, going to parties, wearing designer clothes, and parading around with a smile plastered on my face was going to be the highlight of my existence.
My eyes fall to our bed, the bed that we shared… the bed that he would have shared with someone else after he had me killed. I know now that he wouldn’t have missed a single beat in his plan. He would have played the grieving widow with an Oscar-winning performance. The world would have been eating out of his hand, believing that he was beside himself.
Anger pulses through me. I spin on my heel, walking to Dane’s closet as I begin to yank his clothes from the hangers and throw them into a large pile on the floor. It feels good. I grunt with each yank, picking up one of his beloved Rolexes that I bought him and throwing it as hard as I can against the custom walnut cabinets. It leaves a mark, bouncing off the wood and tumbling to the floor.
“That felt good.” I laugh, picking up another watch and repeating the process. By the time I’ve yanked everything from his closet, I’m breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat across my forehead. My eyes land on the gun safe he kept in the far corner. I squat down, typing in the code to see if it’s still the same as it was years ago when he told me about it. The motor whirs, the mechanism unlocking as the door pops open.
I look inside. Three handguns and ammunition are sitting neatly against the black velvet. I pick up one of the guns. It’s heavier than I expect it to be. I have no idea if it’s loaded but I hold it, pointing it toward the doorway, closing one eye to aim. My finger is on the trigger, but I don’t squeeze it. Instead, I put it back in the safe and stand up to head back downstairs.
After several more hours of going room by room, trying to decide if there’s anything I want to keep, I step into the kitchen to make myself some lunch and grab a glass of water. I see Andy hauling the few remaining items he had kept in the garage apartment. He waves at me through the window, and I wave back before he gets in his car and drives away.
I sigh. It feels like a huge chapter of my life is officially closing now. I glance down at my watch; it’s just after two. I’ll stay here another few hours, then head home so that I can hopefully beat Mads. I haven’t had a chance to cook him dinner yet and I want to tonight.
When Tilly gets back from vacation, I’ll talk to her about coming to work for me at Mads’ house. I’m sure she will be confused, considering she knew I hated him before, but I’m hopeful she’ll understand. I know it will be easier for her considering she lives in the city with her mother so she’ll no longer have to commute to the suburbs. I offered to let her move into the house and be live-in help before I knew she took care of her mother who has serious health complications.
I look down at the glass in my hand that I’ve been drinking out of and have the sudden urge to smash it against the wall of his office. I grip the glass so tight I’m sure I’ll break it. Anger continues to pulse through my veins. I close my eyes, taking in several deep breaths. I pull out my phone and send a quick message to Mads, leaving my phone on the desk.
Me:Just finishing up here. Will leave shortly. Should be home around the same time as you. Xo.
I haven’t told Jeanie, the Realtor I’ve worked with previously, that I want to put the place on the market. My plan was to go through what I wanted and tell her to do an estate sale, then sell whatever remaining furniture is left in the house. But part of me doesn’t want to pass on this house to another unsuspecting family. I’m sure that anyone interested in the house would find out about Dane’s supposed suicide before they bought it, but they wouldn’t know the real story. They wouldn’t know the lies and deceit that took place in this house.
I feel tears start to build again. I close my eyes, trying to breathe through them when I hear what sounds like footsteps on the first floor. My eyes pop open and I tiptoe out of the office, toward the banister of the stairs.
The footsteps stop for a few seconds, then pick up again. I look over the banister, thinking Andy probably just came back because he forgot something, when I see a man I don’t recognize walk down the hall toward the stairs. He’s short with a full mustache. A khaki trench coat mostly hides his gray suit that matches his fedora. He pauses on the stairs, then he looks straight up at me.
I gasp, my hand over my mouth as I drop to the ground and slowly crawl backward toward the office. I close the door, hoping the click doesn’t give away where I am. Just as I’m locking it, the man kicks it, the door flying open as I fall backward with a scream.
“No, no, no!” I scramble to my feet, tripping as I try to crawl toward the desk where my phone is. But the man grabs my ankles, tugging me so that I’m on my back, looking up at him.
“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts, his hand over my mouth as I shake my head from side to side. “Calm down, please!”
