CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MILLY
Milly laid her clothes out for the next day’s tennis lesson. She only had two tennis-appropriate outfits—one skirt and top, and one dress, and she had to wash them daily to ensure she had something ready for her next lesson. Was it excessive to take daily lessons, she wondered as she smoothed the pleats of the skirt hanging over the back of the chair in her bedroom. Yes, probably, she admitted, but she loved it. She looked forward to her time with Adele, and in just a few days she was seeing improvements in controlling the ball. She’d felt quite excited when she’d seen a few women gather at the court, watching her take lessons with the only female coach at the club, as if she’d had some small part in ushering in that change.
She rushed downstairs when she heard the telephone ring, wondering if it might be Lloyd. She hadn’t heard from him since he left on Sunday morning and it was now Thursday.
“Kincaid residence,” she said.
“Good afternoon.” It was a man’s voice, and Milly thought she heard a hint of an English accent. “I saw a posting for a guest cottage for rent, and I wondered if it was still available.”
“I’m afraid not; it’s already rented for Bal Week.”
“Bal Week?” he asked.
“Oh, I assumed you were inquiring about this week. It’s a busy time here; the colleges and high schools have a spring break.”
“I see. How about next week?” he asked. “I’m a journalist and documentarian, and I need to do some research in the area.”
“Oh,” Milly said, her interest piqued.
She hadn’t planned to rent the guest cottage out again. Lloyd hadn’t been thrilled that she’d rented the cottage to college kids in the first place, but the extra money would allow her to keep taking lessons with Adele without having to ask for Lloyd’s permission. And the more she played, the better she would become, and the more chance she’d have to impress her husband when he finally came back around.
“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to rent it out for one more week,” she said. “It’s nothing fancy, just a small space behind our house. My current guests will be leaving Sunday.”
“It sounds perfect,” he said. “I could be there by Monday.”
“All right,” Milly said, jotting down his name and giving the him the address and the weekly rate. “I’ll need a letter of reference,” she said, wanting to ensure that this man was reputable.
“Not a problem,” he said.
“See you next week.”
As she hung up the phone a small thrill ran through her. It was the first time in her life that she was making her own money, not being given pocket money from her parents or a marital allowance from her husband. It might not amount to much, and she already knew exactly how she was going to spend it, but something about the fact that she’d posted the listing, she’d made the place cozy and welcoming, and she was now taking on a second tenant—something about that gave her hope.
Later that night, Jack and Debbie fell into an easy sleep the minute their heads hit the pillow, tired from an impromptu afternoon of digging for sand crabs on the bay. They were bathed, fed, in clean pajamas, and now, hopefully, happily dreaming—something else Milly took some satisfaction in. Lloyd had been away for four nights already andwasn’t expected to return for another week. She hadn’t called him at work and she vowed not to. She wouldn’t beg him to come home; instead she would wait for him to miss her, or at least miss the kids, and she was surprisingly calm about it. She’d had a glass of wine with dinner, which helped. She was alone, yes, but she didn’t feel particularly lonely. The children were taken care of and occupied, and the house was coming together, slowly. Things were far from perfect, but the day had gone smoothly, and for at least a brief moment she felt stable.
Later in the kitchen, she poured herself a second glass of wine. When she noticed she still had her apron on from cooking dinner, she stood to hang it on the back of the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a man in her yard. She gasped, instinctively picking up the serrated knife that she’d just washed and left to dry by the sink, but when she pulled back the corner of her lace demi-curtains, she saw it was one of the college guys, sitting by candlelight at her outdoor table.
“Good Lord,” she whispered. She set the knife down and opened the kitchen door. “You’ll get yourself killed sneaking around in someone’s yard like that, you know,” she called out.
He looked up sheepishly, and she recognized Wes. “I hope it’s all right that I’m here. The guys went out, but I’ve got some studying to do and the night air helps me stay awake.”
Milly picked up her wineglass and walked out to the yard. “Now that I know it’s just you and not a stalker, it’s fine, but studying during Bal Week? Shouldn’t you be out dancing the night away?”
“I have a big exam coming up. I don’t want to wait until the last minute.”
“How responsible.” Milly would not have had the same kind of fortitude when she was a student.
“How’s your evening?” Wes asked, glancing at her glass.
“Oh, I’m celebrating a relatively easy bedtime. Would you like some?”
“No, thank you, I need to stay sharp,” he said, “but I could use a little breather.”
Milly took a seat at the table. “What are you studying?” She tried to peek but he closed the notebook and placed his hands on top.
“I don’t want to bore you with this,” he said. “Did you have a nice dinner with Mr. Kincaid? I haven’t seen him around yet.”
