LITMIR.BIZ

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in whatever quarters I found for us.

      I knew my in-laws well enough to realize there wouldn’t be much food, if any left. Like buzzards, they’d picked clean everything that was placed out for public consumption. Not an olive or celery stick did they leave. While I hadn’t seen them do it, I suspected they had wrapped up plates of food and taken it home with them. Twenty-five years had taught me to be prepared. I went downstairs and came back with a small tray of untouched food. I had held back lasagna, salad, chicken parmesan, and wine.

      “You’re a magician. Where were you hiding that?”

      I smiled. “Stephanie’s dorm refrigerator from when she was in college is downstairs.”

      Stephanie grabbed plates, glasses, and silverware. “Mom made this ingenious front that conceals the fridge. It looks like a wood file cabinet, but it’s really hiding a fridge.”

      I smiled. “I found it on Pinterest.”

      We sat down and enjoyed a good meal with good food, good wine, and good company. The only spoiler came when my cell phone rang. I looked at the phone. “It’s Albert.”

      “Don’t answer it,” Dixie said.

      I was sure Albert had heard about the announcement I’d made to Gino and his other family members. He would be angry I didn’t support his lies and hadn’t allowed him to shift the responsibility for our divorce to me. However, that was something he’d have to deal with on his own. I let the call roll to voice mail and turned off my phone.

      I went to bed and slept well. All of the tension and pent-up emotion of the past few months drifted away, like sand washed away by the tide.

      I awoke refreshed and energized. After a shower, I felt ready to leave everything behind and start my new life. In fact, I even brought my suitcase upstairs from the basement. I was determined that when Dixie left at the end of the week, I would go with her.

      I shared my thoughts with Dixie and Stephanie at breakfast, and they both agreed it sounded like a good plan.

      “I have some boxes downstairs.” I turned to Dixie.

      “I’ll bring them up.” She hopped up and went downstairs.

      Stephanie sat at the table for several minutes and stared into her cup of coffee.

      “What’s bothering you?”

      Stephanie shook her head. “What makes you think…” She turned and stared at me.

      The look on my face was one I’d honed over two decades of motherhood. It said, “I’m your mother.” It stopped her protest without me speaking a single word.

      “Okay, something is bothering me, but I don’t know what it means. It may not mean anything.”

      “Do you want to talk about it?”

      She hesitated, but eventually took a deep breath. “It’s just something that happened with Mr. Nelson.” She looked down. “How well do you know him?”

      I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head to the side. I had suspected her concern was related to her father bringing his girlfriend to her office, so this question took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anything to do with Albert’s attorney, Charles Nelson. I thought for a moment. “We’ve known Charles and his wife, Marilyn, for years. You know that.”

      She nodded. “I know they went to St. Adalbert’s Parish and that he’s been Dad’s attorney for several years, but I mean, how well do you know him?”

      I thought about the question. “We weren’t what you would call ‘close’ friends, if that’s what you mean. We never hung in the same circles. They were way out of our league. Custom-made clothes, and they lived in that big house on Lake Michigan. They traveled to Monte Carlo, Paris, and the Riviera, and spent winters in south Florida. They were the jet-set crowd.”

      “That’s what I remember too. They had one son.”

      “Charles Nelson the III.”

      “Chip.” Stephanie smiled. “He used to drive a Porsche in high school and had pool parties I heard were alcohol and drug buffets.”

      “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “Mom, I didn’t go to those parties. He was out of my league too, but just because I didn’t go to the parties didn’t mean I was going to rat on him.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Besides, I think the Nelsons knew about it.” She hesitated for several seconds. “Doesn’t it seem odd that Charles Nelson is now Dad’s attorney?”

      I hadn’t given the matter much thought, but I didn’t have any answers. I shrugged. “I guess. When your dad expanded his business to include imports, Chip started working at the dealership. Maybe he convinced his dad to represent your father.” I thought for a few minutes. “I know Charles went through some difficult times for a while. Gossip around town said he had financial problems. He nearly lost everything a while back, but then he was okay again and back at the yacht club and country club and flying around the world.”

      “Do you remember when that was?”

      I pondered. “About a year ago, I think.” I stared closely at my daughter. “What’s really going on?”

      Stephanie looked thoughtful. “He’s a big, well-known attorney. He graduated from Yale. It’s just that he’s made some rookie mistakes I wouldn’t have expected of someone who’s been a lawyer for as long as he has.”

      “Maybe it’s old age.”

      “Maybe.” Stephanie shrugged. “Come on. We have work to do.”

      * * * *

      We sorted through the million items accumulated over the years. As far as I was concerned, Albert could have the furniture, appliances, and the things. Most of the items were his taste and not my own anyway. Stephanie argued it would be expensive to start over from scratch, but I didn’t care. Paying to haul items across the country I didn’t love was a price greater than any amount of money.

      By lunchtime we had created pretty decent piles of items for charity, items for trash, and items that would remain with the house. The things that mattered most to me were pictures of the children, homemade cards, and other items given for Mother’s Day, Christmas, and birthdays. I spent a great deal of time reading through those cards and reliving the moments that mattered most in my life. The doorbell pulled me away from memory lane.

      When I opened the door and saw two policemen standing on my porch, my legs turned to Jell-O, and my heart raced. I gripped the doorknob to keep from falling.

      “Mrs. Albert Echosby?” the uniformed officer with piercing blue eyes and a five-o’clock shadow asked.

      “Oh God, please don’t let it be David.”

      “Who’s David?” The short, stout officer with curly red hair, light gray eyes, and freckles exchanged glances with the first officer.

      “My son,” I whispered.

      “May we come in?” Blue Eyes asked.

      I moved aside and they entered, but I couldn’t walk and stayed rooted to the spot, my grip tight on the doorknob.

      “Mrs. Echosby, we’re sorry to inform you that your husband, Albert Echosby, is dead.”

      CHAPTER 3

      Relief at not hearing my son’s name come out of their mouths superseded all other emotions, common sense, and propriety. The pounding of my heart slowed, and the blood that rushed to my ears stopped. I released the breath I had been holding and slid down. I would have collapsed onto the floor if Blue Eyes hadn’t rushed to my side and caught me before I hit the ground.

      “Mom!” Stephanie chose that moment to walk into the living room and saw me supported by the police. She rushed to me. “Mom, what happened?”

      Something rose inside me and

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