Chapter 41 Willow Morrow
Willow Morrow
“Let’s see, Willow was in Fort Myers two summers ago.
She house-sat for the Goldbergs, who have the condo next to mine.
We were the only two people in the whole building under seventy, so we became fast friends.
But Willow never talked about her past. She was full of stories about her travels and such, but I never once heard her mention an ex-husband or San Francisco.
Honestly, I thought she might be a lesbian.
We got drunk one night and made out a little, and I am not like that at all, but Willow has this sort of relaxed energy that made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. ”
Willow had missed this view. She stood on the back porch and stared out at the hills and valleys of the golf course. The sun was low in the sky, bathing the greens in a golden glow, and the ponds shimmered like they were topped with diamonds.
The view was better from the second floor, best from the large terrace off their bedroom, but she didn’t think that Katie would appreciate her going up there. For now, she settled into one of the large padded chairs around the firepit and twisted off the cap on a beer.
They had chosen this house because of its lot. It was at the end of the street, surrounded on three sides by the course. They had a large lake that separated them from the tee box and giant live oaks with branches that arched over and around the house like protective arms.
Mark had been obsessed with golf, and she had loved to ride in the cart, read a book, and get sloppy drunk.
Twice, the course marshal had picked her up on the back nine and given her a ride home because she had been too distracting.
They had received a letter reminding them of proper course conduct, and warning them that their Stone Hollow memberships would be suspended if they did not adhere.
Mark had been traumatized at the thought of losing his standing at the club, and forbade Willow from coming along anymore, which led to a fight.
She had been drinking too much, and didn’t back down when she should have, and now, looking back, she could recognize that she’d been a brat about it.
Most of their fights, now that Willow thought about it, had been both created and escalated by her.
That particular fight had been pretty bad, and it had ended in the basement.
There had been a dinner they were supposed to go to a few days later, one she’d had to cancel and make excuses for.
Mark always made an effort to keep injuries in places that could be hidden by clothes, but it was hard to sit comfortably, to smile and carry on a conversation, when you had welts across your backside.
“Hey.” Mark walked through the open French doors and lifted his own beer to his lips. He wore a casual dress shirt, the top buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms and his Patek Philippe watch, the one she’d given him on their fifth wedding anniversary.
“Hey.” She sipped her beer and watched as he took the seat beside her. “Where’s Katie?”
“Oh, she’s changing upstairs. She’ll be down in a bit.” He studied her for a moment, then lowered his voice. “They found the body. ID’d it as male, so no one’s thinking it might be you.”
She nodded, absorbing the information. “Do they know who it is?” If they didn’t, it shouldn’t take them long to figure it out. Hell, anyone could solve that mystery instantly. Three people had disappeared that summer. Her, David Batcher, and Roxanne Kendal. Only one man on that list.
“I haven’t heard anything about that, but maybe you should go by Sara’s house. Check in with her.” Mark adjusted his khaki shorts.
She considered the suggestion. It wasn’t like she’d ever been close with Sara Batcher, but their husbands had played golf together and they had all been members of the country club, which had put them in the same spaces often enough that a friendship of sorts had formed.
She tried to consider how she’d feel if Mark’s body were found five years after his disappearance. Sad? Unsurprised? Confused?
Mark was right. She should go by Sara’s.
Worst-case scenario, the woman would tell her to fuck off, but much more likely, she’d invite her in.
Hell, maybe she’d be glad to see her. Willow was kind of a celebrity, one who hadn’t received much of a homecoming since returning to town.
It would be nice to have someone other than Katie gape at her in surprise.
She stood up. “You’re right. I’ll head over there now. See what I can find out.”
“Right now?” Mark tried to grab hold of her hand and missed it as she headed toward the house. “I thought maybe we’d talk a little. Catch up.”
Catch up. That was the last thing she wanted to do with Mark.
Just this brief interaction and she could already feel the pull of regret and longing.
They had been dysfunctional and toxic, but there had been love there.
In the past five years, she’d spent too many lonely nights missing a man who was now married to someone else.
“We can catch up later.” She downed the remainder of her beer and tossed the bottle toward the trash can by the door. It made it in with a loud crash, and she stepped into the house.
Her purse and keys were still in the kitchen, but she ignored both, taking the short flight of steps down into the garage and flipping on the switch.
Opening the key cabinet, she surveyed the options, smiling when she saw the Maserati key still in its rightful place, as if it had been waiting, this whole time, for her return.
Pressing the button for the fourth bay, she turned to see the door roll up, the evening sun streaming in and putting a spotlight on the glossy red convertible.
Oh, heartbreak and skeletons aside, it was good to be home.