Once a Widow (22 page)

“Where would we be travelling to?” George asked carefully.

“Oh, everywhere. France, Italy, maybe Florida, the Coast. No special place.”

“Cuba, maybe?”

“Perhaps. I love Havana.”

“I’ll take the job,” George said. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Barry.”

“Wonderful. But please call me Karen—no formalities. May I call you George?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll keep in touch with you,” Karen said. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I won’t need anything,” George said, smiling ruefully, “not where I’m going. But thanks, anyhow.”

“Goodbye for now.” She held out a hand.

He clasped her cool fingers, feeling a sense of bewilderment.

Karen turned to the cell door and called to an officer sitting at a desk across the corridor. “I’m ready now.”

When she was outside the cell and hurrying down the corridor she felt oddly excited. It was almost the way she’d felt when she’d first seen Richard standing under the bright light at the table in Las Vegas. Poor Richard. She shouldn’t be feeling as she did now, not so soon after his death, but she couldn’t help it. She was still young, really, and she should try and forget the past and look forward to the years ahead. Her mind turned to the tasks facing her; moving Richard’s body to Cleveland, the funeral (goodness, how she dreaded that), changing her will, closing the house at Erie Cliffs. She’d had offers from a number of persons who wanted to buy the house on the bluff overlooking the lake, but she wanted to keep it, at least for a while. It held so many memories for her, not only of Richard, but of her other husbands, too. They were all close to her heart, in their fashion. Richard was the only one she’d ever really lost. My goodness, for the first time in her life she was a widow.

Karen hoped that she’d forget Richard soon. She’d try. And she hoped also that George would like the house in Cleveland, and the one at the Cliffs, when they were finished travelling and settled down. He had mentioned Cuba. She’d surprise him and go there the first thing.