Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay) (3 page)

“
You need to keep it charged and on your person,” Kevin explained as though he were talking to a child. I guess dealing with me was great practice for becoming a father. “First of all, we all feel safer if you have it near. And second, I want to be able to get you if Meg goes into labor.”

“
She’s not in labor, is she?” My heart speeded up. My first grandchild wasn’t due for another couple of months. “It’s way too soon.”

“
No, she’s fine, she’s at work. I was just making a point.”

“
Oh, okay. I’ll keep it close, I promise.”

“
So, how was the flight?” he asked. “Was it tough? Are you okay?”

“
I’m okay. But it’s been a long day.” My jaw ached with the effort of holding back a yawn, so I gave up. All I wanted to do was shower and go to sleep. “Honey, thanks for checking on me. I’m going to turn in now, I’m just exhausted.”

“
Mom,
wait, please.” The concern in his voice traveled loud and clear across the miles between us. “Why don’t you come out here and be with us instead of spending the winter in Chicago? It’s warmer. We’ve got the sleeper sofa now. You can help us decorate the nursery.”

“
I’ll come out when Meg has the baby, I promise.” I felt terrible letting him down, but it had taken all I had in me to make
this
trip. And I still hadn’t decided to stay. Putting on a happy face each day for my son and his family was more than I could do.

“
Mom… “Kevin hesitated. “We love you so much. We’re worried about you.” His sweet tone brought tears to my eyes.

I couldn
’t stand the thought of blubbering on the phone to the poor kid again, so I swallowed hard. “I know you do, baby. I love you too.” I put my hand over the receiver for a moment as a tear trickled down my face. “I’m good, l really am. I’ll call you in the morning and text you some pictures of this apartment, okay? It’s pretty incredible.”

We talked another minute or two. I convinced him all was well. They were so worried. The kids, Carrie, Liam, Eliot, Margie, and Noah. And even Will
’s expression as he sat across from me eating pizza had the same concern. Everyone in my life was watching and waiting for me to reassure them that I’d be fine. For the first time in a year, that seemed like it might be possible, but for tonight, I just needed a shower and a bed.

Stripping off my clothes, I stopped as I passed the bathroom vanity mirror.
Carrie was right; I
did
look like hammered shit. My cheeks were hollow. Shadows smudged purple under my eyes. My hair looked good though because I’d had it cut and highlighted right before I left. But when I leaned into the mirror, I saw silver strands among the darker blonde. And even though I had picked up a few pounds over the holidays, I was getting flabby. My breasts were starting to sag, the flesh of my arms wasn’t as firm, and my hip bones showed.

Charlie
would
be appalled. He was always so proud of my toned body and thick, shiny hair.

“
You’re the ultimate arm candy, Jules.”
I could hear his warm voice in my head.

Not any more,
my love.

I straightened my shoulders as I clipped my hair up off my neck.

I knew I had to use this time in Chicago to figure myself out—to get a grip. When I sat in Dr. Benton’s office, it all sounded so very reasonable. Grieving was a process. I was stuck in that process. I understood that, but until now, I didn’t
want
to get a grip. Charlie’s death was still too raw, and my sorrow filled me up and wore me out. The antidepressants had helped—before I started them, driving to the grocery had been impossible, let alone flying to a new city. But even though the airports and cabs today had left me drained, for the first time in over a year, I was intrigued to see what tomorrow would bring.

Anger welled up inside me as I twisted sideways and eyed my nude body in profile. I
’d spent all those months lying in bed, sucking down coffee and wine, missing Charlie so much I couldn’t even think straight. But it didn’t bring him back. Months of therapy had shown me one important thing—it
was
time for a change.

Turning away from the ghost in the mirror, I wrenched on the water and stepped into the cold shower.
I screeched as it hit my body, but I needed that splash of icy water to remind me I was still alive. The water warmed up and I stood under the stream, allowing my tensions to drain away with the suds from the soap. It felt delicious and comfortable and… right.

In that moment, I made up my mind to stay in Chicago for the winter. Carrie and Liam
’s building had a gym and a pool. I could work out, get my strength and muscle tone back. Carrie probably knew of a decent spa so I could have a facial and a body wrap. I’d call her tomorrow, or perhaps I’d bundle up and take a walk, try to find my way around the neighborhood. Maybe even go by the agency and see some of my old friends from the catalogue shoots. Sharon and Deb and Maureen had all been in the Macy’s spring and Christmas ads, looking as glamorous as ever. It would be fun to do lunch and catch up on their lives.

The bedside lamps cast a soft glow in the room as I pulled on my nightgown and got my Kindle and iPod from my carryon. Tossing back the covers, I plumped the pillows and slipped into the warm flannel sheets. Carrie hated flannel sheets. She
’d put them on her bed especially for me. My lips curved up in a smile at how hard she’d worked to make the perfect welcome for me, and a twinge of guilt tweaked the back of my mind for being surly to her neighbor earlier.

Plugging the buds into my ears, I switched on the music. It was actually Charlie
’s iPod. Mine was at home somewhere, maybe on the desk in the kitchen buried under a pile of magazines. The first thing on his playlist was Norah Jones, and I smiled as her sultry voice filled my head. We danced to “Shoot the Moon” when we were on Mackinac Island for our anniversary—it was the last time we’d danced together.

The memory was sweet, but not pulling me down into the abyss of despair that so many other me
mories had in the last months. That surprised me. Maybe I
was
getting better. Carrie had been so scared for me, worried that I might do something stupid, maybe try to join him. To be honest, the thought had crossed my mind one day not long after the funeral. But I’d shoved it away almost as soon as it had entered my head and instead, let sleep and wine dull the pain.

But after I
’d started seeing Dr. Benton, when I finally found the courage to pack and make this trip, it was the beginning of acknowledging that Charlie wasn’t coming home ever again. I’d even agreed to let Carrie and Liam clean out his belongings from the bedroom closet and paint while I was in Chicago.

My thoughts turned to Will Brody, who had made the transition into my new life in Chicago just a bit easier tonight. Maybe it was all going to be okay. This trip might be a turning point.

Almost palpably, my grief had begun to subside.

FOUR

I hauled the
suitcase onto the bed and with a grunt, unzipped it. Why in God’s sweet name had Carrie packed all these skirts, jackets, dresses, and shoes? Where the hell did she think I was going? It looked like she’d packed my entire wardrobe, but I knew my closet in Willow Bay was still half full. I had entirely too many clothes, although you’d never know it from my current appearance. Glancing down, I frowned at my yoga pants, white tank top, and comfortable old MSU hoodie.

When I
’d arrived a few days earlier, I opened the trunk and unpacked several pairs of jeans and pants, hung up a few soft shirts, sweaters, and skirts. I pulled out a couple of pairs of comfy yoga pants, all my underwear and socks, and my swimsuit and put them in the drawers Carrie had emptied for me in her antique dresser. I’d found my favorite jogging shoes and my boots, plus a couple of other pairs of shoes that I loved. Now I had to figure out what to do with all the rest of the stuff she’d packed.

Things were going along pretty well so far. The apartment was huge, light, and airy and yet cozy, warm, and comfortable. Exactly what someone would expect Carrie
’s home to be. Her spirit surrounded me here and made the transition from my house on the shore to this citified atmosphere surprisingly easy. The longing for Charlie’s house—for Charlie—was abating somewhat. Oh, I still thought about him several times each day, but I was focusing on getting to know Chicago and the neighborhood.

I
’d made friends with Javier, the doorman—a charming fellow with a Frito Bandito moustache and fourteen grandchildren. He’d given me a grand tour that included the workout room and a wonderful lap pool in the basement of the building. I’d already swum an hour’s worth of laps twice, and my shoulders were screaming at me, but it felt so good to be active and moving my body again. If I kept up the physical exercise, I was sure I’d be able to cut back on the antidepressants. I’d found a great coffee shop that served an excellent white chocolate mocha just down the street from the apartment. I’d even made an appointment with the new therapist, Dr. Jardin. All in all, I was settling in. Carrie would be proud.

Will Brody had been friendly and helpful, checking in on me several times, giving me directions to the dry cleaners, the drugstore,
and a little grocery on the corner that had incredible produce even though it was a typical bitter Midwest winter. I couldn’t help wondering what he did all day. Did he have an office or did he work from his apartment? We’d met in the pool once or twice when I gone down to swim even though I picked mid-morning to avoid the early birds. I tried to imagine what a symphony conductor’s manager’s job would involve, but all I came up with was what I already knew. He traveled to check out orchestras and venues, set up Liam’s schedule of appearances, and managed his finances.

Maybe I could talk to Will about my finances. Carrie told me he used to be a stockbroker when I
’d asked her about him earlier in the week. Charlie always took care of our money and according our attorney back home, I was okay. Charlie had left me well taken care of with life insurance and the investments he’d made. I’d always managed my own money from the modeling and my savings account was comfortable, but I was certain that the money could be working harder, plus the stock market had always fascinated me. I had some spare cash to play with, and Will might be just the person to give me some investing advice.

Later I planned to set up Charlie
’s laptop on the table in the breakfast nook and try to figure out the wireless Internet connection. I’d brought his because it was newer, and I could put my hands on it quicker as I packed. I figured I could always call Liam or Will if I couldn’t get it to work, but Javier told me to use the building password and I’d be online in no time. I wanted to email the kids and give them my address here. My daughter, Renee, was in Africa with a group of nurses, and email was about the only way to communicate with her. Her twin, Ryan, was down at IU med school in Indianapolis. He had a crazy schedule, so texting was how he communicated. Kevin told me he’d sent me some pictures of Meg’s ever-expanding belly.

Yeah, I needed to get online.

Late afternoon sun streamed into the window making the apartment warm and snug even though it was only twenty-two degrees outside. I sorted clothes into stacks and then put them in boxes I’d grabbed from the shipping store down the street. Perhaps there was a charity or consignment shop nearby I could take them to. They were all gorgeous designer labels, most of them from catalog shoots—a little bonus for modeling the outfits. Plus Charlie had shopped like a damned fashion expert. He loved dressing me. Teased me constantly about learning my fashion sense from him. That probably should have offended my feminist sensibilities, but he did it with such charm, it was impossible to get mad. I didn’t need all these clothes now. Perhaps someone else could get some real use out of them. I made a mental note to call Carrie and find out where she took her things.

I was so focused
on sorting through dresses, blouses, skirts, and jackets that the sound of music startled me when it chimed through the roomy apartment. Trust Liam to have a doorbell that played Bach. I hummed along with “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” as I peeked through the peephole to see Will Brody in the hallway, tall and brawny, his blond hair slightly mussed.

“
Hey, Slugger,” he greeted me as I opened the door. Okay, so he was a nicknamer, but I didn’t mind. It was kind of cute.

I
couldn’t decide if the careless hairstyle was deliberate or if he’d just gotten up from a nap, but I resisted the urge to put my fingers in that thick mop and feel for styling products. Loafing against the open doorjamb, he was tall, so tall that I had to tip my head back to look up into his eyes. And they were great eyes. Blue, like the Caribbean Sea, and friendly as he grinned that killer grin. God almighty, this guy
was
handsome.

Blinking, I realized
I was staring and hadn’t even said hello yet. “Come on in, Will.” I opened the door wider to let him inside.

“
How’s it going? Hope it doesn’t seem like I’m hovering, but it’s gonna snow tonight and I was headed to the market. I thought I’d see if you needed anything.” He sauntered in, thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans. I couldn’t help observing how great those jeans hugged his body and the fact that I noticed shocked the hell out of me.