Just because the police were at the hospital doesn’t mean that what happened to Blair is anything but an accident.
It certainly doesn’t have to mean Nellie was involved in any way.
Her daughter is right: Blair has been downright nasty to Nellie—for years now—so why should Nellie pretend to be in a twist over it?
But still.
Charleigh doesn’t know what to do with herself, with her body, how to calm herself down.
She hates that she’s home alone right now, hates that Jackson’s away.
She peers into the fridge—looking for what, she doesn’t know—the thought of food making her belly ache even more.
“Calmdown,” she says out loud. Great, now she’s talking to herself.
Her monologue is interrupted by someone knocking at thefront door.
Blood whooshing through her temples, she practically runs to answer it.
Is it the police? Detective Walker?
Peering through the peephole, she exhales a frayed sigh.
It’s Ethan Swift, hat in his hand, with Luke at his elbow, hands working through his glossy black hair. Grateful for the company, she cracks open the door.
“Hi!” she says with too much cheer.
“Afternoon, Ms. Charleigh,” Ethan drawls. His skin glows in the sunlight, his mouth dangling open in a grin. “We were in the neighborhood, thought we’d stop by. See if we could come in, talk about the custom piece you and your husband were interested in.”
Charleigh freezes. Even though she’s happy they’re here, relieved that her spiraling attention can be brought elsewhere, she’s unsure about letting them in. Doesn’t know if she’s up for this kind of visit right now.
“Well, Alexander’s out, at the rifle range with Nellie, so—”
“That’s prolly for the best,” Ethan mutters under his breath, so softly that she’s not sure if she’s heard him correctly.
If she has, what the hell does he mean? He’s relieved Alexander’s gone, or that Nellie is?
“Excuse me?” she demands.
“Nothing, I was just thinkin’ out loud, that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to pop in on you like this—” His eyes twinkle, anddid he just wink at her?
“Oh, don’t be silly! Come on in. Sorry, I’m feeling off today, with all this stuff that’s happened—”
Ethan strides past her, Luke in tow. “It’s tragic. We’ve been praying nonstop—”
“We have, too,” Charleigh lies. “It’s…terrible. Unthinkable.”
The trio stands in the foyer; Charleigh studies Luke’s face, searching for signs.Of what?The boy just looks bewildered and half his age today.
“Anyway, I was thinking,” she says, her hands twisting into knots together, her adrenaline on overdrive, “I’d love a new sideboard for the den. It’s the back room here that looks out over the yard, the pool.”
Charleigh leads them down the hall. She thinks she can feel Ethan’s eyes tracing her backside. She flicks her head over her shoulder, and yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. This man is an impossible flirt, and she’s positive Monica’s spread her legs for him.
What is wrong with me?How can she even be having such thoughts with poor Monica at Blair’s bedside at the hospital?
“Along this wall?” Ethan asks, tracing his finger over the light-splattered wall opposite the French doors.
“Exactly.”
