Chapter 9
Zoe
I am already waiting at the airport arrival terminal.
Greta sent a text saying she would land around the same time as my flight, but I cannot verify that yet since I don't see her anywhere in the crowd of travelers dragging their wheeled luggage past the security gates.
As I sit on one of the metal terminal chairs waiting for her and my husband, I pause, going perfectly still.
My husband.
Consciously, I open the camera app on my phone to check my hair in the glass screen reflection. I pat my face with a fingertip, brush away an imaginary dust particle that might have rested on my cheek, and lock the screen.
"Zoe."
Greta’s voice cuts through the ambient noise of spinning baggage carousels and terminal announcements.
I don't need to look too hard to find her.
We might not have been the best of friends in the past, but she has been texting me frequently since I left the estate.
Over the last eight months, I have come to find some kind of kinship with her.
I am glad when my eyes land on her, and her face lights up with a look of happiness.
But my smile stalls when I notice her leaning on a polished walking stick.
When I close the distance between us, she steps forward and presses a quick kiss against both of my cheeks.
"Greta, what happened?" I ask, my gaze dropping to the mahogany cane.
"I am old, darling, and I have arthritis," she replies, adjusting her grip on the silver handle. "But it has been taken care of, so I feel a lot better now."
"Oh, okay. But I am sorry you have to deal with this."
She pats the back of my hand with her thin fingers. "I have to say, I am so happy to see you."
I offer a small nod. We stand there for a long moment, simply staring at one another.
"Zoe."
My husband’s voice calls out my name from behind her.
I look up over her shoulder. Chris stands a few feet away, unashamedly smiling as his eyes lock onto mine.
I find myself almost returning the expression, my lips twitching upward just before Sarai moves into the frame beside him.
She reaches out, her fingers trying to catch his hand, but I watch closely to see what he will do.
He doesn't pay any attention to her. He sidesteps her reach entirely and hurriedly walks toward me, his face full of that wide smile. I look at the tall man running toward my position, his eyes holding some sort of joy that is not easy for him to hide.
When he finally stops right in front of me, the only thing he manages to say is a quiet, "Hi."
"Hi," I say back, keeping my hands resting on the strap of my handbag.
"It's been a while, darling," he says, his gaze scanning my face.
I offer a small smile, nodding once to acknowledge the time apart.
"Come on, our ride is here," Greta calls out to us, turning her back to head toward the sliding glass doors of the exit.
I look at my husband one last time. Before I can let myself smile in front of him, I quickly turn on my heel to walk toward Greta, letting the smile break out only when my back is safely turned to him.
"You sorted out the hotel arrangements?" I ask her as we step out into the brisk afternoon air.
"Yes, darling, I did," she says, her shoes clicking against the pavement. "Everyone has their own suite."
She turns to look at me, and I nod back, smiling gratefully for her understanding. As much as I am happy to see Chris, I didn't want to be put in a situation where I would be forced to share a room with him.
"Hold me, please," she mutters, shifting her walking stick to her outer hand.
Immediately, I slide my arm under hers to support her. She leans her weight against my side as we navigate the busy curb where taxis and black town cars are lined up, their exhausts pluming in the cool air.
"We are women, Zoe," she says, her voice dropping to a low whisper so the others trailing behind us can't catch the words.
"And even if I might not have liked you at the start, you have become someone who makes my son a better person.
So..." She pauses, her grip tightening on my forearm.
"I want to apologize for letting what happened slide in the past. I took it as though it were normal.
Although at first I thought his reasons for helping were good, it does not justify making you stay invisible in a home that you had built. "
I nod at her, the sudden apology taking me completely aback. "It's fine," I tell her softly.
I look down at the little but mighty woman walking beside me.
Greta is a woman of valor and virtue. She single-handedly built her own business from the ground up after losing her husband to heart disease decades ago.
She built a carpentry company worth millions of dollars by the time her sons came of age to join the board, and eventually, they all worked together to expand it into a billion-dollar enterprise.
Knowing her history, I know she is not a woman who offers an apology easily.
As we reach the open door of the waiting town car, I can still feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of my neck. A small smile touches my lips because I don't even have to turn around to know exactly whom they belong to.