Chapter 2
Sheryl had been forewarned. Anna had called ahead and told her to expect a black woman who looked like a model and had a very cultured voice.
Of course, Sheryl had taken it in with a pinch of salt.
Anna had a tendency to exaggerate. She knew better.
Probably some hick just passing through, she thought with a snort.
She was deep into the seamy sex scene of her novel, when the doorbell jangled. Trying not to look too annoyed at the interruption, she placed her finger between the pages and looked up. And could not help but stare.
For once, Anna was right. The woman walking towards the counter looked very much like one of those black models she had seen in Vogue. Her skin was smooth as silk. The short blonde style was sleek and emphasized the excellent bone structure.
Even though she was wearing faded denims they were expensive. Sheryl was certain the sweater was cashmere. And the boots! She had to stifle the sigh and offered what she hoped was a professional smile as the woman came up to the counter.
"Welcome to Birchwood's Rental. How may I help you?"
"I was told to ask for Sheryl."
Anna was right again, the voice was cultured, the words well-modulated. Envy, pea green and sharp settled inside her heart. The lime green jacket she had chosen to wear to work was not only ill-fitting, but she had bought it at Sally's a few years ago.
"That's me." The smile was forced and the tone brittle. "What kind of rental are you looking for?"
"Something on the beach front."
"We have a few, but it'll cost you." Sheryl was spitefully hoping the woman did not have enough money to pay for the beachfront rental.
"May I have a look at the brochure?"
Turning around, Sheryl plucked one out of the basket and handed it to her.
Aria leafed through the pages and studied the different cottages, finally settling on one that had a bridge leading to the water.
If the photo was any indication, the cottage had a faded pink look and was on a slight rise.
Pretty pink and white flowers surrounded the front porch.
The photographer had captured the serenity of the place and the stunning backdrop of colors and foliage.
"This one," Aria said, tapping the brochure with a neatly manicured finger. "How soon could I see it?"
Sheryl hesitated just a moment, then pulled the set of keys from beneath the counter.
"If you have a few minutes, I can show you now.
It's just a short drive down the shoreline.
" The faintest edge of curiosity crept into her voice, softening her demeanor as she gestured toward the door.
"Most folks like to walk to the cottage for the view, but I can take you in the truck if you'd prefer. "
"I have my vehicle, and I don't need you to show me." Making up her mind instantly, she smiled at the woman. "I'll take it."
Sheryl felt the envy spreading. "Wouldn't you like to know the cost?"
"No." Shaking her head, Aria handed her the brochure. "I'll sign the paperwork right now. I'm assuming the cottage is clean?"
Sheryl angled her chin. "All our rentals are well taken care of."
"Great. The contract?"
"How long are you planning on staying?" Expecting to hear a few days or even a week, Sheryl looked up in shock when the woman told her she was starting with a month and see what happens after that.
"A month?" She practically squealed. "We usually have people staying a week."
"Is there a problem?"
The cool reserve in the woman's voice had her proceeding with caution.
"Of course not. It's just that--"
"How much?"
Sheryl calculated swiftly and quoted a price.
Without even lifting a brow or hesitating, the woman took out a fat roll of bills. "I'm afraid I only have cash."
"We don't usually--" Her voice petered off as the woman looked at her.
"Let me get the receipt book. I'll need your name."
"Lydia Wallace." Aria had practiced saying the name while on her way until she had become used to it. Now it just slipped off her tongue with ease.
She watched while Sheryl filled in the blanks on the sheet of paper and handed it to her. Counting out the bills, Aria handed them to her and took the keys.
"If you want, I can come with you--"
"No need. The address is right here. I believe I can find my way. I'm assuming the electricity is turned on?"
"Yes, of course. Everything is in ship shape."
"Thank you. May I have a card with your number?"
"Of, of course. Silly of me not to think of that." Opening the lap drawer, she drew out a card and handed it over.
"Thank you."
"Enjoy your stay and welcome to Birchwood."
"Thank you."
Waiting until the woman had cleared the doorway, Sheryl picked up the phone, her interest in the steamy romance novel forgotten.
She dialed quickly, eager to share the news of the month-long rental with her coworker.
As she waited for the line to connect, Sheryl glanced at the receipt book, wondering about the mysterious "Lydia Wallace" and what might have brought her to Birchwood for such an extended stay.
Already, she sensed there would be more to this story than a simple rental agreement.
*****
The woman in the rental office was quickly forgotten as Aria made her way along the winding road that led to the cottage.
As she drove, Aria's hands tightened on the steering wheel, her mind replaying the brief transaction.
The new name, the unfamiliar town, and the crisp set of keys in her palm all felt strangely surreal.
Still, she reminded herself, this was exactly what she needed.
A fresh start and a place where no one knew her real story.
It was a pretty town. If it could be called that. She passed several stately store front buildings and a park that was small with state-of-the-art equipment. The place was mostly deserted, and she supposed that in a place like this, people tend to turn in early.
She went through what she supposed was the business area of Birchwood, with its official town center.
There were two banks, with the name Tierney in black and white lettering.
Several department stores, a laundromat, several restaurants, a café, a pastry place and a movie theater.
The streets were clean and well kept, the buildings well preserved.
Leaving the town, she turned onto a winding dirt road that led to several houses with identical white picket fences.
On either side, tall maples cast long, dappled shadows across the gravel, their leaves trembling in the faint evening breeze.
The air felt cooler now, scented faintly with pine and distant woodsmoke, and Aria rolled down her window, letting the tranquil quiet seep into her bones.
Occasionally, a porch light glimmered through the branches, but otherwise, there was only the soft crunch of tires and the quiet hum of her own thoughts as she approached her new beginning. The cottage looked just like it had been in the photos.
Pulling into the cobbled driveway, she sat and took in the faded brick building. This was going to be home for the foreseeable future. For a moment, Aria lingered in the car, her fingers resting lightly on the keys.
The quiet of the evening settled around her, interrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the cooling engine.
In the hush, she felt the weight of both relief and apprehension.
Relief at having finally arrived, and apprehension about everything she had left behind.
Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to step out, the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes grounding her in this unfamiliar, promising place.
Within a few minutes, she had hauled her suitcases from the trunk of the car and was on the porch. Taking the keys out, she unlocked the strong oak door and pushed it open. As Aria stepped inside, she was greeted by the soft scent of lavender and old wood mingling in the dim entryway.
The cottage interior was cozy, with a worn but inviting sofa facing a stone fireplace, and sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains.
She set down her bags, letting herself absorb the quiet atmosphere, noticing little touches.
A stack of weathered books on the coffee table, a vase of wildflowers on the mantel, that hinted at the stories this place might hold.
From the living room window, she could see the stone steps leading down to water that was as clear as glass. It was gathering dusk, and the air had gotten cooler. Besides which, she was tired from all that driving. The exploration would have to wait until tomorrow.
Turning away from the spectacular view, she went first into the small kitchen with its old-fashioned appliances. A cup of tea would do her well. The cabinets were painted a faded blue, and cheerful patterned tiles lined the backsplash, their colors muted in the evening light.
A battered teapot rested on the stove, and Aria smiled at the thought of small comforts. Maybe tomorrow she would find a market and stock the shelves with fresh groceries. Putting the kettle to boil, she sat at the table tucked beneath a large bay window and delighted herself with the view.
Maple trees with their branches bent in the evening breeze flanked both sides of the winding path that led into the wooded area. She had brought her work out clothing with her. She had always been a stickler when it comes to her body and would work out every morning before going to work.
It all seemed so far away now. She had not allowed herself to think about the tragedy she had left behind, but now it all came flooding back. The shrill whistle of the kettle had her jumping reflexively. Fixing the tea, she brought it back to the table and sat.