Page 50 of The Guest Cottage

“One minute I was just me, working second shift and looking forward to the next raise so I could get new tires on my car, and the next Dylan was there, taking care of everything.”

Marlow could see what a lure that would be to someone so young.

Pixie said, “I wanted to get a different job, but Dylan said the hours would interfere with things he wanted to do.” She rubbed her eyes, leaving them both redder. “I know I was naïve. He just made everything seem so perfect. When he couldn’t be there, he’d send flowers and other gifts.”

Picturing it all, Marlow briefly closed her eyes. What had she been like at nineteen? That was more than fifteen years ago, and what stood out most in her mind was losing her father, and a few years later, her mother. Then she’d married Dylan and started working with the Heddings. During that time she’d experienced much of the world. The idealistic, eager girl she’d been so long ago had disappeared like mist beneath the sun. Instead of worrying about the newest music concert and social media trends, she’d been brokering million-dollar deals, lunching with influential people, and pushing her pet projects.

She’d thought her marriage was secure.

Pixie wasn’t the only one who’d made grave mistakes.

“Then I got pregnant,” Pixie continued, “and Dylan told me he was already married. I ended things, got a job working at the restaurant, and he helped with the apartment, a car and credit card . . .” Dejected, she slumped in her seat. “But you know what happened with that. I got sick, Dylan died, Andy came early . . .”

Had Dylan’s duplicity surprised Pixie as much as it had Marlow? Probably more so, because Marlow had suspected that her marriage was sinking before she ever confronted him. Pixie, on the other hand, had been full of new love and hope for the future. What a blow it must have been for her.

“I made such a mess of things,” Pixie said. “The warehouse job wasn’t great, but it was better than minimum wage, we got small but regular raises, and there were nice benefits, like medical insurance and child care. I should have stayed there. I should never have dated Dylan in the first place. He wasn’t from my world, and I should have realized he wouldn’t really be interested in me.”

“His actions were despicable, but you’re not to blame.”

That statement surprised Pixie so much that her eyes flared and she drew a sharp breath, which brought up those harsh coughs again.

Foot tapping the floor in agitation, Marlow gave her time to regain her breath. She waited while thinking about the future and the past, and most of all, the present, the right here, right now.

She knew Cort was watching her, and after a moment his foot touched hers beneath the table. She stopped tapping and, grateful to Cort for being here with her, said to Pixie, “Remember, slow breaths.”

After swallowing the last sip of juice in her glass, Pixie seemed more defeated than ever. “I tried going back for my old job. The one at the warehouse, I mean, but they weren’t hiring . . .” She let her words fade, bit her lip, and again met Marlow’s gaze. “I got a call from someone who said if I ever came near any Heddings employee, they’d ‘bring the force of their considerable legal resources against me.’”

“Wow.” The audacity. Sandra had mentioned Pixie’s bid for a job, but it was incredible she’d taken her objection so far. Had she bothered to learn anything about Pixie? About their grandson?

She met Cort’s gaze, as unreadable as ever, and yet somehow, she knew he was as irked by the threat as she was.

“I don’t know what that means,” Pixie said worriedly, “but it sounded serious.”

“The Heddings family has blackballed you,” Marlow explained. “That’s what it means.” She saw no reason to tell Pixie that Sandra had discussed it with her directly. “Do they know you have Dylan’s son?”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” She frowned. “There’s no one for me to tell. I’ve never met his parents and wouldn’t have a clue how to reach them. But Dylan’s name is on the birth certificate and the person who called me seemed to know everything about me.”

With rage simmering just beneath the surface, Marlow tipped her head and asked, “Like what?”

“How to reach me, which means they knew where I was staying.” Flushing again, she said, “My phone was shut off when I couldn’t pay the bill. I wasn’t at the apartment Dylan had rented. I didn’t even have the car that he’d bought anymore. But the call came to the motel front desk and was forwarded to my room.”

“Motel?”

Pixie fidgeted. “It was an inexpensive place, the only one I could afford. Just a place along the highway, and I only stayed there a week or so, trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t have enough money to stay longer.”

“And so you settled on coming to me.”

She looked ready to jump out of her skin, then defiantly straightened. “For Andy, yes.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I used a computer at the library and found your social media account. You shared some photos of the lake.”

“Incredible.” Pixie had been not only desperate but ingenious.

“When I got to town, I asked about you and was told you were staying here.”

Cort frowned, and for the first time, he interjected a question. “Who did you talk to?”

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