It made me feel terrible, but my gut instinct was completely broken after my marriage to Louis. Every time something good happened, part of me waited for it to crumble beneath my feet, and if it didn’t crumble, I took an ax to it myself and swung until I’d cracked the very foundation I was standing on.
It had finally gotten to the point where I was seriously starting to wonder if Amber was right. Perhaps I really did need counseling. The therapist I’d gotten for the girls was so expensive that I hadn’t even considered making an appointment for myself, but I could afford it now.
Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea, spending just a bit of Zach’s money on my own mental health. It was certainly something to think about.
Trying to get my thoughts back on the job at hand, I climbed into the attic armed with my phone camera and a legal pad, deciding that I’d make an appointment soon, but I had to get this done first. The attic stretched the entire length of the house. It was huge and given the incredible amount of art in their collection, it was unlikely I was going to get very far today.
So maybe I won’t wait to get itdonedone before I make the appointment. I should probably just call when I leave here. Right. That’s what I’m doing.
With my mind made up, I turned to survey the rows and rows of paintings stacked against the walls. Some were wrapped in sheets, propped beside antique furniture and boxes overflowing with old family junk. There was even a broken karaoke machine up here.
I imagined the Westwoods as I knew them now, powerful and serious, as kids or maybe teens, singing along to whatever songs they’d chosen on this old machine. I would have paid good money to see that.
Maybe one day, but for now, you have work to do.
I turned my attention back to the paintings, a pang of sadness shooting through me at the knowledge that they owned all this because of Douglas Westwood’s grief. It looked like he’d coped with it by purchasing half the art auctioned off in the Midwest.
On the other hand, his coping habits had certainly been healthier than mine.God, he might’ve spent a fortune, but at least he did it buying stuff that keeps its value. I’m simply making a habit of wrecking lives and avoiding everything.
I shook my head at myself, wondering what a therapist would say about that, but then, I got to work. I spent nearly an hour taking photos and making notes. Then a massive crash sounded somewhere behind me.
I yelped so loudly, I heard it echo around the room, and I spun around, nearly tripping over a crate. “What the hell?”
Theo emerged from behind a stack of covered furniture, coughing dramatically as dust swirled around him like it was upset about having been disturbed. He swatted cobwebs off his black T-shirt, shooting me an apologetic smile and lifting his hands as if to show me that he came in peace.
“Sorry,” he said. “I walked directly into a lamp.”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Holy crap. You scared me. Why are you lurking around up here?”
“What? You’re the one who scaredme. I thought we were being robbed.” He grimaced at a cobweb hanging off his sleeve, picking it off before glanced back at me. “Actually,areyou robbing us? What are you doing up here?”
“Working.”
He looked around the attic with skepticism written all over his features. “Photographing all this old crap counts as work?”
“There’s probably several million dollars’ worth of art in here. I’m cataloging it,” I said. “What’s your excuse?”
He chuckled. “There’s also a haunted rocking chair. I doubt we’ll be able to sell that, though. What’s my excuse for what?”
“Not working.”
“Well, I was.” He slid his hands into his pockets, looking briefly uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Okay, to be honest, I was working on figuring out my next move.”
“Your next move?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. My next move. In life, you know. Your turn. Did Zach put you up to this?”
“The cataloging?”
“Yeah.”
Theo made a face. “Ah.”
I lowered my phone to my side, accepting that this was going to be more than a momentary interruption. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You know you don’t actually have to do any of this, right?” He sighed heavily. “My idiot brother clearly just wanted an excuse to hang out with you.”
Heat crept up my neck. I crossed my arms, my phone dangling loosely between my fingers. “That’s not what this is. I agreed to catalog your family’s collection.”
