“Front,” I corrected grudgingly. She smirked. “Is he still mad?”
Georgia shrugged. “He’ll get over it. But if he does come back, I wouldn’t make it too easy for him. Make him work for it.”
Mostly, when I’d imagined seeing Nick again, it involved an arrest warrant. All I could see when I pictured his face was the disappointment in his eyes after he’d tossed my wig-scarf at me.
“How’s Steven holding up?” I asked, changing the subject.
Georgia gave a slow shake of her head. “Not gonna lie. He was pretty torn up. Nick says he overheard Steven and Theresa arguing after her deposition. Steven told her he planned to move out. I’m guessing the engagement is off.” Georgia watched my reaction out of the corner of her eye. “If he asked, would you take him back?”
“I’m not in the business of plea bargains,” I said, wiping the glaze from my hands. “I’m moving on with my life. Steven’s a big boy. He’ll be fine.”
“Moving on, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. “You and Nick?”
“No.” I rested my sock feet on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles as I considered the possibilities. It felt good, to have possibilities. “No. Just me. Me and Vero and the kids. We’re going to be okay.” The bills were paid, my van was back, and there was a little wad of cash under the broccoli in the freezer. I was pretty sure I knew how my story was supposed to end.
Georgia put her feet on the table, too. She leaned back and closed her eyes, wearing a contented smile. “Good. I guess I can finally stop worrying about you.”
CHAPTER 42
Picking up the mail wasn’t as daunting as it used to be. The box was usually empty now, with the exception of a few catalogs and coupon books, and the occasional insignificant bill. I crossed the lawn just before dark, hunched into my jacket, my hands jammed in my pockets against the cold as I dodged the paper skeletons hanging from the tree out front and the Styrofoam gravestones peppering my front yard. The air was redolent of chimney smoke and carved pumpkins, the misty night shimmering with the promise of Halloween.
Crisp blades of frozen grass crackled underfoot, and I waved at Mrs. Haggerty’s kitchen window, certain she must be watching me. I didn’t mind her nosiness so much anymore.
The hinge on the mailbox creaked as I fished out a short stack of envelopes. I thumbed through them mindlessly as I crossed the lawn back to my front door. Electric bill, water bill, internet and phone, the usual… I paused over a fat envelope from Steven’s attorney, which probably contained the new joint custody agreement he’d proposed this week.
As I flipped to the next envelope, my feet jerked to a stop. The thin letter had no postage. No return address. Just my name written in stark bold letters across the front.
I looked both ways down the street. No strange cars lined the sidewalk. No one was standing out on their lawn. Officer Roddy had been dismissed days ago, as soon as Feliks had been taken into custody, and I glanced back at Mrs. Haggerty’s window, wondering if she might remember who’d delivered it.
The house felt overly warm as I dropped the bills on the side table and kicked the door shut behind me. The foyer was thick with the heavy smells of bubbling cheese and pasta sauce spilling over from the kitchen. I tore open the envelope, slowly unfolding the paper inside.
PANERA. 10 A.M. TOMORROW.
“What’s that?”
I started as Vero peered over my shoulder. “You scared me half to death.”
“A little jumpy?” Vero studied the note. “You think it’s Patricia Mickler?”
“Who else could it be?” I shredded it as I carried it into the kitchen and stuffed the pieces down the garbage disposal.
“You’re not gonna go?”
“No. It’s over. I’d be happy if I never saw Patricia Mickler ever again.” That was exactly how I felt about Irina Borovkov, too. I’d been dodging her calls for days. I didn’t want any more of her money. No matter how it might look to her, I wasn’t the one who’d killed her husband, so there was no reason for me to accept payment for it. As far as I was concerned, our business was over. I was ready to put this entire disastrous chapter of my life behind me.
I cracked open the oven, relieved to see my lasagna boiling, thenoodles at the edges a light golden brown. Vero reached around me to lift the foil, and I smacked her hand away.
“It’s my turn to cook. This is your party.” I closed the oven and pulled down two glasses for wine. Vero had passed her accounting midterm exams, and tonight, the four of us were celebrating.
Vero grumbled as she set the table. “Well, I might have a few things to say to the woman if I were you.”
“Who? Patricia?” Oh, I wasn’t without things to say. I could go on for hours about her little disappearing act and what her boyfriend had pulled in my garage. I turned on the faucet and flipped the switch on the disposal, letting the last of Patricia Mickler and her crazy husband slide away as I washed the pots and pans I’d used to prepare dinner.
The doorbell rang. It had only been a few days since the police had dug up Harris’s body, and Vero and I still held our breaths a little, every time. I turned off the disposal. Vero’s eyes met mine.
“You expecting someone?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Probably just Steven coming to talk about the new custody agreement. It came in the mail today.”
