“Ask you what?”
“Something’s bothering you. I can see it in your eyes.”
She twitched her mouth to one side and held it there, a sort of half-frown. “I don’t want to ruin the moment,” she said.
“The moment will survive.”
“Okay then, brace yourself.”
I took my hand away from hers and grabbed both sides of the table and pretended to hold on tight. “Let ’er rip!” I said.
She took a deep breath. “Last night at Starbucks, you told me about Janet and Ken dating. You were worried about his temper, what he might do to her if they decide to get married.”
I kept quiet.
“Do you still love her?” she asked.
“No. But I don’t want my daughter’s mother to marry a wifebeater.” She made a face, and I said, “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”
Kathleen was wearing the same cloth coat she’d worn the night before. She’d been cold and hadn’t wanted to surrender it to the coat check girl downstairs. But now she stood and removed it and folded it over the back of her chair, revealing a white blouse, a tan faux suede skirt, and a wide brown belt with two gold buckles. She wore very little makeup, or maybe it hadn’t been freshened up in a while, since she’d come straight from work. It didn’t seem to make her uncomfortable the way most women would be. She sat back down and surprised me by taking my hand in hers and kissing it.
“I don’t wish him dead or anything,” she said. “But Ken is …” She sighed. “Ken is not a part of my life anymore. I mean, there’s not a day goes by I don’t think about him or the terrible things he did to me. But.” She paused and showed a bittersweet smile as the memories danced across her face. “There were some good times, too. In the beginning.”
I nodded.
Then she said, “I’ve heard he’s gotten treatment, and I’m glad. I hope he’s okay. I hope he finds peace.”
I nodded again.
I had already finalized a plan for handling the Ken and Janet situation, and now I realized I’d been right all along not to involve her in it.
We had a wonderful dinner, and afterward, my driver took us to her place and she invited me in. Home for Kathleen was a modest duplex cottage with faded green siding. Her side of the duplex had three rooms: a kitchen, living room, bedroom—and a bath. A small stack of books sat on one end of a threadbare couch in the living room. She picked up the books and stacked them on the coffee table so we’d have room to sit.
“I’m sorry it’s not nicer,” she said.
“Don’t be silly.”
“It’s just, everything is so expensive here.”
“It’s wonderful,” I said.
And to me it was. When I’m in Virginia, I sleep in a prison cell. When I’m anywhere else for more than a day or two, I generally break into the homes of strangers and sleep in their attics. Sometimes I’ll live in an attic for weeks at a time. By comparison, Kathleen’s duplex was a palace.
“I can offer you a gin and tonic, bottled water, a hot chocolate with skim milk,” she said, “or a diet coke.”
I asked, “Do you have an attic?”
“What a strange question,” she said.
“No, I just meant, there’s not a lot of room for storage.”
“I have half an attic and half a basement,” she said. “Does that win me some kind of prize?”
I placed my hand to her cheek, and we looked at each other. “Don’t ask me to show them to you,” she said. “The attic is totally junked up, and the basement has rats, I think.”
I asked if I could kiss her. She said, “Okay, but just once. And not a movie kiss,” she added.
CHAPTER 10
“I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Mr. Creed.”
“Why should you be the exception?” I said.
It was morning, a few minutes past eight. I was in the hospital coffee shop chatting with Addie’s Aunt Hazel.
“And just how is it you’re connected to Addie?”
“She’s my friend.”
After learning how special Addie was to Kathleen, I’d come to the hospital to check on her. During a discussion with one of the nurses, I learned that Addie’s father, Greg, had won ten million dollars in the New York State Lottery six months ago. I also learned that Hazel and Robert Hughes had originally planned to adopt their niece after her release from the hospital but had changed their minds after learning the money was gone. So when Aunt Hazel showed up, I ambushed her in the coffee shop.
“We’re not wealthy people, Mr. Creed,” Hazel had said. “Addie will require specialized care for the rest of her life, and yes, we were counting on the inheritance to provide it.”
“Perhaps your interest in Addie’s welfare extended only as far as the inheritance,” I’d said, and that’s when
