Chapter Six #2
Ayla’s voice quieted. “Are you still depressed, Mom? I mean—” She paused when she realized how the question sounded. “You know what I mean, right?”
Lulu mouthed, Sorry. Irritation roiled through me.
The last thing Ayla needed was to worry about me, especially since she seemed to be coping badly with Ali’s death.
They’d been so close. Ali coached Ayla’s house basketball team for several years and ran countless developmental drills with her at the local gym.
With Ali gone, both Ayla and Adam needed me to be strong and steady for them.
“Yes, honey. I’m fine,” I reassured her. “Obviously, still getting used to . . . everything. But much better than I was. I’m OK.”
“Maybe Adam was right. We shouldn’t have left you all on your own, alone with nothing to do.”
That was the thing with kids. They assumed you had no life without them—no unique identity, no interests or aspirations—as if your life started and ended with them.
“I do have a job,” I reminded her. “I’m fine. Promise.”
I was anything but fine, but I didn’t want Ayla to worry. Even though the closer we got to Durham, the more anxious I became.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Fine.” Her tone was clipped.
“Have you thought about seeing a counselor?” I said, desperate to make sure she was OK. “I called the university, and they have people you can schedule an appointment with. It would help you to talk to someone.” She certainly wasn’t talking to me.
“OK.” Her tone cooled even more. “Bye, Mom.”
“Love you, honey,” I said.
“Bye.” As soon as Ayla hung up, I hit the settings icon on my phone.
“Biltmore House?” Lulu said.
“What else is in North Carolina?” I replied. “It’s all I could think of.”
Lulu’s eyes went to my mobile. “What are you doing?”
“Turning off my location settings. I don’t want Ayla and Adam to be able to track my every move. Especially not now.”
“How is Ayla doing?”
“I’m really worried about her. She won’t talk about Ali at all. She’s losing weight. I don’t think she’s eating well.”
“I’m sorry you have so much on your plate.” Lulu paused. “I asked Khalid about the second house. He swears he knows nothing about it.”
“Did you think he would?”
Lulu shrugged. “I just thought I’d check.”
About twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of 104 Cozy Glenn Lane.
The house was located in a leafy historic neighborhood near the city center.
My heart thumping, I stared at the quaint white Victorian with cedar shake siding and a wide front porch.
It wasn’t big, but it had character, which is more than you could say about our tract home in Northern Virginia where all the houses looked alike.
“It’s pretty,” Lulu said.
“Ali didn’t like Victorians. He said they looked too old-fashioned.”
“Ali didn’t live in it.” It was what my sister didn’t say that permeated the air.
“Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re thinking?” My words were knife sharp. For the first time, I gave voice to an unthinkable possibility. “You suspect that Ali has a secret girlfriend in there, don’t you?”
I turned away to study the house’s waist-high spiked black iron fence because I couldn’t stand to see the expression on her face. The sympathy, the worry, the concern that she was dealing with a fool in denial.
Was I a fool in denial? I shook my head against the thought. There was no way that Ali was sneaking around behind my back, committing the ultimate betrayal. It just wasn’t who he was.
But then again, what did I know? I was never suspicious when Ali worked late.
Never checked up on him or went through his phone.
Having never dated before, I had zero idea what signs of cheating to look for.
My inexperience put me at a serious disadvantage.
Ali had had relationships before marriage. Me? I was totally clueless.
“I don’t know what’s going on.” Lulu chose her words carefully. “But whatever it is probably isn’t good. Otherwise, Ali wouldn’t have kept it a secret.”
“You knew how he was.” I swung my head back to look at her. “How can you think the worst?”
“Ali was a great guy. But he was also very reserved. He didn’t talk much.”
“And that makes him a lying cheater?” I snapped.
“All I’m saying is that your husband wasn’t exactly an open book. And don’t get mad at me.” Her face reddened. “I’m not the one who bought a secret house.”
Tears stung my eyes. What had Ali done? Why was I hundreds of miles from home parked in front of a cute house that he bought without telling me? I reached for my insulated water bottle and took a gulp to keep from crying.
“What do you want to do?” Lulu asked in a more conciliatory tone.
I wanted to drive away and keep going until I arrived back in a world where my husband was still alive. I took a deep breath. “Well, we didn’t drive almost five hours to sit in the car and stare at the place. I guess I have to knock on the door.”
“What will you say when they answer?”
I swung my car door open. “I have no idea.”
Lulu shut off the engine. “I’m coming with you.” I felt a stab of gratitude to have a fierce sister who never let me down. Friends like Rula and Nicki may have drifted away after Ali died, but Lulu was steadfast.
My legs were like sandbags as I approached the fence, walking through the open gate, down the smooth stone walkway lined by bushes of spiked purple flowers. On the porch, outdoor furniture, dark wood with plush white cushions and tasteful throw pillows, was arranged on a patterned rug.
I’d envisioned this house in my head, my mind keeping it at a safe distance.
But seeing it in person, verifying its existence, put every cell in my body on alert.
Someone had made this house a home. A living, breathing person with apparent good taste lived here.
My mind desperately grasped on to the hope that there was a good explanation for the existence of this house with an obvious feminine touch.
I wanted nothing more than for Ali to put his arms around me and reassure me that everything was OK. He’d been my safety net for more than half my life. My reason for feeling secure in the world. Who would catch me now?
“Ready?” Lulu prompted softly as I stood, unmoving, in front of the door.
No. But I forced myself to knock anyway. My heart beating hard, I rang the doorbell too. We waited without speaking. All I could hear was the sound of my shallow, rapid breathing. No answer. I rang the doorbell several more times and was disappointed, and relieved, when no one answered.
“Either no one’s home or they aren’t answering on purpose,” Lulu said.
It was no use peering through the front windows facing the street, because the curtains were closed. I started down the porch stairs.
Lulu followed. “Where are we going?”
“To the back.” I was desperate to see inside, as if that would give me insight into what was going on. Wooden privacy screens enclosed the back deck, which was high aboveground. I ran up the steps, but there was a door that I couldn’t see through or over.
“Who has privacy screens all around a deck?” I asked, frustrated. “Isn’t the point to see nature and the great outdoors?” In my experience, most people had screens on the sides to shield them from their neighbors but kept an unimpeded view of the backyard.
Lulu agreed. “Having a locked wooden gate to access the deck is also weird.”
Trotting down the stairs, I circled the house, but the curtains were closed on every window on the ground level. I started back to the front porch. “I saw one of those small mailboxes by the front door.”
“You’re going to go through a stranger’s mail?” Lulu looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Isn’t that a federal offense?”
“My husband owns this house, and he’s dead, so I guess that makes it mine now,” I said harshly, tugging on the top of the black aluminum box. “Damn it!”
“What?” Lulu strained to see.
“This stupid thing has a lock on it. Who even knew you could lock a mailbox?” Although it made perfect sense. Especially when strangers on your front porch tried to snoop. Frustrated tears stung my eyes.
“Hello!” someone called out in a friendly Southern accent. “Are you looking for Mizz Darius?” A plump woman in her sixties stood by the gate with her leashed little black dog.
Miss Darius. Confirmation that a woman lived in Ali’s house. Oh my God. The muscles in my stomach cramped. But Lulu didn’t miss a beat. She spun around and delivered her most brilliant smile.
“Good afternoon!” she said to the woman. “Yes, we were hoping to catch her.”
“Do you know when she’ll be home?” I asked.
“Carol? She’s such a nice young woman. I live just down the street. I’m afraid I haven’t seen Carol for at least a week.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Lulu said. “We hate to miss her.”
Carol Darius. A nice young woman. I searched my memory. The name wasn’t familiar.
“Are you leaving her a note?” the neighbor asked, holding tight to the leash as her dog tried to pull away.
“No, I don’t think so,” Lulu said. “We’ll try to catch her another day.”
Suspicion glinted on the woman’s formerly friendly face. “Then why are you going through her mailbox?”
“Oh, we weren’t—” Lulu began.
“She’s an old friend of my husband’s.” I spoke over Lulu. They say the best lies are rooted in some truth. “We wanted to tell her in person that he passed away recently.” My voice caught. I couldn’t help it.
Surprise flashed on Lulu’s face before she masked it. “Sad news like that should be delivered in person, don’t you think?” she said to the woman.
Our inquisitor’s expression softened. Whatever she saw on my face convinced her that my grief was real, even if the rest of it was a lie. Being a widow had few upsides. I wasn’t above using my miserable new status to get some answers.
“Oh, dear,” the woman said. “I am so very sorry for your loss.”
The tears I blinked back were real. “Thank you,” I croaked, hating how thready my voice sounded.
“You’re so young. Much too young to be a widow,” the woman added with an expectant expression, as if waiting to be filled in on the rest of the story. But I was there to satisfy my curiosity, not some stranger’s.
“Let’s go,” I said to Lulu.
“Have a good day,” my sister chirped at the neighbor before following me to the van. The woman watched us before finally allowing her impatient dog to tug her on their way.
“Well,” Lulu said when we were back in the van driving. “I guess there’s a widow card.”
“No one is going to be mean to a widow.” I pulled out my phone. “Time to find out everything there is to know about Carol Darius.”