“Doesn’t the celebration usually happen after the contracts are signed?”
“I prefer to mix things up a little.” He said the words with humor in his voice, but Ann didn’t miss the implications. If she was going to work with him, there would no longer be the option of playing coy.
How high of a price was she willing to pay for her dream job? She knew that she couldn’t stay at Marston
without
his contract. She thought of Margaret’s order for $220,000 worth of furniture, of Beka and Gracie’s hope in a very expensive medication, and of the layoffs that had been in the works even before the company had been affected by a slow real estate market. Now there was nothing between unemployment for the entire staff and Patrick Stinson.
She thought about Ethan and Tammy and Keith and the unrestrained way that they loved her . . . No, not
her
. Just like Lorelei, they loved
Sarah
, not Ann. Tammy seemed to think Ann was like Sarah, but she wasn’t . . . Ethan had assumed she had the same faith as Nana and Sarah, but she didn’t . . .
In truth, it all was an illusion. There was nothing here for her. All that she had was her life in New York. It was the only thing that mattered because it was the only thing that was real.
Ann took a deep breath and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Perfect. I look forward to it.”
Less than an hour later, a deliveryman brought a large bouquet of flowers to her door. The card said simply, “Anticipating.” It wasn’t signed. It didn’t have to be. Ann picked up her cell and began the process of bringing this part of her life to an end.
“Are you sure you want to put this up now? We can wait a few weeks, until you’ve got the place ready to show.” Eleanor’s red curls danced in the light breeze.
Ann nodded. “Don’t show it yet. Don’t advertise or put it on multiple listings until we’re ready, but I need this here right now. It’s my declaration of intent, I guess you might say.”
“This all seems a little sudden to me. I wish you’d slow down, think this through, make certain you’re not acting on impulse.”
“My decision is made.”
“All right.” Eleanor Light reached out to shake Ann’s hand. “Whatever makes you happy. I can see you’ve got some company, so I’ll get moving. I’ll be in touch next week.”
Ann turned around to see Ethan’s truck pulling into the driveway. Eleanor waved at him as she walked the length of the drive and climbed into the blue Mazda parked on the curb.
Ethan climbed slowly out of his truck and walked toward Ann, an accusation in every step he took. He put his hand on the sign and asked calmly, “What is this?”
Ann shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. “It’s a For Sale sign. What does it look like?”
“I thought that . . . well, I guess I hoped that . . .”
“You hoped that what, Ethan? I would stay here and pretend to be some southern belle who cares about what her neighbors are having for dinner or likes to live in old houses with floral curtains? That I would want to stay in this crummy old city because you’ve got a shiny new bridge? Well, I can tell you right now that’s not going to happen. I’ve got to finish up this work and get out of here. I’ve wanted out of here for as long as I can remember, which is why I live in New York now. That’s my home; it’s where I belong.”
He nodded, and Ann could see him swallow hard. The anger in her voice obviously hurt him, but that’s what she’d intended it to do. She needed to hurt him enough that he wouldn’t try to persuade her to change her mind. She needed to chase him off for good. “All right then. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about it.”
“Well, now you do. You said yourself it was easier for you with some distance between us. Guess what? New York’s a long way away.”
He nodded. “Well, I said I’d come over and help this afternoon, so let’s get started.” The pain in his voice almost brought her to her knees, but she held on.
“You know what, I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks for all you’ve done, but I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
She turned around and walked into the house without looking back. After she closed the door, she leaned against it, then slid to a sitting position. But she did not allow herself to cry. After she heard the roar of his truck pulling away, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stood up. She had work to do. The first order of business was to return to the paint store and buy several gallons of white paint. There would be no warmth here. Not while Ann had anything to do with it.
After Ann left, Tammy had eaten a quick breakfast then grabbed another hour or so of sleep. Now she stood at the sink, washing dishes from yesterday and today. Keith hadn’t wakened yet. She prayed that his day would be better after such a trying night.
“Annie, Annie!”
Tammy dropped the dish back into the sink and ran toward Keith’s room, following the sound of his shrieking. “Keith? What’s wrong?”
He was thrashing in the sheets: legs, arms, head, all moving in the asymmetrical dance of panic. “Annie!”
“Keith, Keith, wake up.” Tammy gently reached down and shook her son’s shoulders. “Wake up, darlin’. It’s only a dream. Only a bad, bad dream.”
Keith’s body went still and his head fell back onto the pillow. When his eyes finally opened, they were wide with fright. “Where’s Annie?”
“She’s at her house. Everything is fine.”
“Something’s wrong, Mama. Something’s real wrong.”
“Did you have a bad dream about Annie?”
“No. It wasn’t a dream. Something’s wrong.” His arms struggled up from beneath the sheets, and he grabbed her hand. “Something’s wrong with Annie.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I feel it.”
“Sweetie, I’m sure she’s fine. She came over to see you just a couple of hours ago. You were asleep, but maybe you heard her voice, hmm? That’s what happened. You heard her and somehow your sleeping mind thought that something was wrong with her.”
“No.” His face began to turn red. “No!” He started coughing.
“You’ve got to calm down.” She put another pillow beneath his shoulders and handed him a glass of water.
“Annie needs me.” He took a sip of the water, but the coughs didn’t altogether subside.
“Sweetie, you need to stay in bed right now and rest. Doctor said so.” She looked at her son and knew she had to think of something to calm him down. “Do you want me to see if she can come over for a minute? Would that make you feel better?”
“Yes.” His voice calmed and the redness began to drain from his face. “Get her, please.”
Tammy looked out the window toward Annie’s house. She didn’t want to leave Keith alone, but she knew that if Annie was painting, she would have her earbuds in and wouldn’t hear the phone.
“Sorry, Mama. Didn’t mean to yell.”
Tammy rubbed his forehead. “It’s okay. I’ll get Annie, but you stay real still, okay?”
“Okay.”
Tammy rushed across the lawn, not wanting to leave him alone for too long. He was sufficiently calmed now, but what if something else happened? She was almost to Ann’s kitchen door when she saw the For Sale sign. She simply looked at it, not moving, not breathing, not even able to think. Finally, she stumbled numbly forward and knocked at the door.
Ann jerked it open, her face set hard. “I’m painting. What do you need?” Everything about Ann seemed different from just a few hours ago. Her voice sounded so hollow; her eyes were flat.
“I . . . Keith wants to see you. He woke from a bad dream, and he just won’t be comforted until he sees that you’re okay.”
Ann rubbed her cheek with her shoulder. “Tell him I’m just fine, but that I’m right in the middle of a wall and I really need to get it finished. Tell him maybe I’ll see him later.”
Tammy nodded toward the sign. “You’re leaving?”
“Of course. That’s been the plan all along, right? I’ve got to sell this place and get on with my life.” Ann sounded so angry. Something must have happened, something terrible. Keith had been right.
“Annie, are you all right?”
“My name is Ann, and I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Tammy turned and took a step toward her house, but she couldn’t stand the thought of facing her son alone.
“Please, Ann, would you at least come talk to Keith? He’s so upset and worried about you.”
“I’m really busy trying to get things buttoned up before I leave. I just can’t spare the time right now. Will you tell him that I’m all right, and will you tell him good-bye for me?”
Tammy looked at her, uncertain if she should force her way inside and find out what had happened, or if she should just walk away. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I’m sure.” Ann closed the door in Tammy’s face. Tammy stood still, unable to even breathe. What had happened since she’d seen Annie only a couple of hours ago? Worse yet, how was Keith going to make it through yet another major blow? This would rip him apart.
She rushed back home, scared of what kind of state she might find him in. Once inside, she heard only the
tat tat tat
of the cuckoo clock in the hallway. She tiptoed into Keith’s room, hoping he was asleep. He wasn’t.
He simply looked up and said, “Where’s Annie?”
Tammy swallowed hard. “She’s really busy right now, honey. She’s in the middle of painting, and it just wasn’t a good time for her to come over. She told me to tell you hello.” The word substitution in place of
good-bye
was one Tammy could live with.
“She’s leaving, isn’t she?” He said it in such a calm, resigned voice, it surprised Tammy.
“Yes, darlin’, I think she is.”
He nodded his head and closed his eyes. Quiet tears began to run down his cheeks. “It’s not right. She’s supposed to be here.”
Sometime later, after Tammy had comforted him and fixed him a bite to eat, he fell asleep. Only then did Tammy’s tears begin to fall.
By Monday morning, Ann had had very little sleep, but the walls were now a stark shade of snowy white. She walked through the house and gathered every single floral pillow and stuffed them inside a black, thirty-gallon trash bag. The sides bulged in places, stretching the plastic into a shade of gray. Next on the agenda—the photos under the glass on the coffee table.
She pulled an empty shoe box out of Sarah’s closet and stood in front of the table. She carefully lifted the glass and leaned it against the sofa, then removed the pictures, careful not to look at any of them. When the last one dropped into the box, Ann closed the lid and sealed it with two rows of duct tape. She tucked the box under her arm and tossed the bag over the other shoulder, then schlepped it all out to the detached garage.
As she walked back to the house, she couldn’t help but look at the white sign planted in her front yard—her public and irrevocable declaration that she was leaving this place for good. She never did belong here, and anyone who thought otherwise needed to see the hard truth for what it was.
Ann cast a guilty glance toward Tammy’s house. She knew she’d hurt her and Ethan and Keith. They had come to mean so much to her, but she didn’t deserve them. It was better to just end this whole charade of happiness and love right now. Ethan deserved a
good
girl, and Tammy and Keith deserved a friend with a heart. Ann loaded her suitcase in the trunk of the rental car and looked at her watch. The lateness surprised her; she was going to have to rush to make it to the airport in time.
She put the key in the ignition, feeling the finality of her departure. Sure, she would be back, but after this time, everything that had once drawn her here would be gone. Her eyes began to sting, and she turned the key.
Nothing happened. Not a sputter, not even a clicking sound. The engine simply didn’t respond. “Great, just great.”
She yanked her cell phone out of her purse and dug through the glove compartment for the rental agreement. She knew they had roadside assistance, and they had better make it quick. She located the number, then waited through four rings before someone finally answered. “If you’d like to continue in English, press one.”
Urg!
Ann pressed one, her blood pressure climbing with each second. “If you’d like to reserve a car, press one. If you’d like to cancel a reservation, press two. If you’d like to hear a list of rental locations, press three.”
It was all Ann could do not to slam down the phone, but she knew that would only mean she’d have to start the whole process again. Finally, she heard, “If you currently have a rental car and need assistance, press eight.”
Ann smashed her finger into the number eight so hard that it hurt, then put her phone to her ear. “My car won’t start, I need—”
“If you’d like to return your car to another location than in your original agreement, press one. If you’d like to extend your reservation, press two. If you need roadside assistance, press three.”
Ann pressed the number three. “All lines are currently busy. Please stay on the line and the first available customer representative will be with you shortly.”
Ann slammed her palm against the steering wheel in frustration. She didn’t have time for this. She turned the key again and again while she waited. Absolutely nothing.
“Customer assistance. This is Debbie speaking. How may I help you?” She had a slow southern drawl, which particularly unnerved Ann when she was in a hurry.
“Yes, my car won’t start and I need to leave for the airport right now. I need someone here as soon as possible.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having trouble. I know this is an inconvenience and I do apologize.” The woman sounded sympathetic, but Ann didn’t want her sympathy. She wanted results. Immediate results.
“So how fast can you get someone here?”
“Let me put you on hold for just a moment while I talk to the crew.”
Orchestra music suddenly came through the earpiece, signaling to Ann that she was indeed on hold. It went on and on, its monotonous melody doing nothing to calm her nerves. Then she heard a beep. “Oh good, you’re back—” But the orchestra music was still playing. That’s when she realized what the beep was. It was her cell phone, letting her know that the battery was low. Wasn’t that rich?