Page 40 of Wishing Stone

Still, Alexander’s concerns had gotten into my psyche and there was no calming my nerves. My hands twisted in front of me, and I wondered if this was all just a bad idea.

Shoving my fidgeting hands in my coat pockets, I approached the reception desk.

“Can I help you?” Claire asked when I reached her.

“Claire, it’s Krystina. Krystina Stone.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and I didn’t recognize you with the mask on,” she hurried from her seat behind the desk and came around to greet me.

There was an awkward moment that typically would have been filled with a brief hug, but the shelter’s social distancing requirements prevented it. My chest tightened, suddenly realizing how desperate I’d been for human connection outside of my immediate household. Now that I had it, I couldn’t even experience it to its fullest.

This is so sad.

I choked back the tears that always seemed at the ready as another wave of melancholy washed over me. Whether Alexander was overreacting or not, things had clearly changed. I wondered if the world would ever be the same again.

“It’s so good to see you,” I told her in an overly cheery voice, hoping to cut through the sad awkwardness.

“Likewise. I didn’t know you’d be stopping in today,” Claire said. “I hope your visit means you’re here with good news.”

“Well, the stop definitely wasn’t planned, but I do have something to share with you. First, can you round up the staff and current residents? I’d like to tell everyone at the same time if I can.”

“All the residents? Including the kids?”

“Yes. Definitely the kids.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Stone. You can head back to the group therapy room, where there’s plenty of space for everyone. I’ll tell everyone to gather there.”

Claire went to get the other staff members, and I walked down the corridor that led to the large conference room used for group therapy sessions and other large group activities. I was well acquainted with the room, as I’d been a guest speaker several times in the past. It was initially part of my commitment to become more involved with the shelter, but it had turned into so much more. I missed the time that I used to spend here. As much as it hurt to see so many struggling women, the assistance we offered them at Stone’s Hope was rewarding enough to get past it. The shelter had been a life-changer for so many, and I was proud to be a part of it.

When I reached the conference room, I saw a large circle of chairs. Every other chair had a red X taped on it, signaling where people were allowed and not allowed to sit. I thought about the number of times I’d seen one woman reach for the hand of another in the group sessions. My heart sank to see how they weren’t physically able to do that anymore, and I suddenly had a new appreciation for Claire’s frustrations. All of this truly went against human nature and only strengthened my resolve that coming here was the right thing. Stone’s Hope needed me—they needed a Christmas—even if it only made them feel normal for a little while. Hopefully, they will feel more of that normalcy after all the mandates drop next week.

Fifteen minutes later, everyone had gathered in the conference room. The limited seating filled up quickly, forcing some staff members and mothers with their children to either sit on the floor or stand along the walls. I took my spot in the middle of the group. Turning in place, I took in the tired and wary looks in the eyes of every mother and the curious expressions of their children.

“Thank you all for taking a few minutes to meet with me,” I began. “For those who don’t know me, my name is Krystina Stone. My husband, Alexander, is the founder of The Stoneworks Foundation, the non-profit organization that founded Stone’s Hope. I’m here today because I have some good news to share. I’m not sure how many of you know about the recent theft we had at Stone’s Hope.” I paused and saw most everyone nodding.

“Yeah, we know what she did,” said one of the mothers. She shook her head in disappointment. Her daughter stood in front of her with wide eyes. She was a tiny thing with bouncy pink ribboned pigtails. She couldn’t have been more than four years old. The woman placed her hands on the little girl’s shoulders. “It’s a damn shame, too. The kids were really looking forward to the party.”

“Well, what if I told you that the Christmas party was back on?” I said with a wink.

Several shrieks of excitement came from the kids, but before I could elaborate further, a loud bang from behind me caused me to jump. I turned to see what had caused the noise just as several gasps filled the quiet space. I snapped my attention in the direction everyone seemed to be looking.

Instantly, I brought my hands up to my face, but there was no way for me to stifle my own gasp of shock. Hannah Wallace, Stone’s Hope Christmas thief, stood in the doorway to the conference room with her arms stretched out in front of her. Held tightly in two hands was a gun—a gun that was pointed directly at me.

16

Alexander

Istared absently across my monochromatic office in Cornerstone Tower. The wall of flatscreen televisions were on but with the volume muted, each screen displaying some sort of national coverage. One showed stock tickers, another exhibited the latest political poll numbers, while the third was tuned to a talk show on Bloomberg TV. I barely noticed any of it. I was too consumed with worry over Krystina’s odd behavior that morning.

She had acted off—very off.

Yes, she had a situation at Stone’s Hope that she was worried about. I’d listened to her tears long into the night and knew she was upset that I wouldn’t allow her to go to the shelter. But it was more than just that. Krystina hadn’t seemed quite like herself well before Claire had called her about the stolen money. While I thought our relationship was in a good place, I couldn’t help noticing that a strange undercurrent always seemed present. She’d been off for the past couple of months—anxious almost—but it had seemed amplified this morning. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. It made me think that something else was bugging her.

I released a frustrated sigh. Krystina was strong, as she had proved time and again, but everyone had their breaking point. I just wish there was some way I could ease her burdens. Other than leaving the office early to go home so she wasn’t alone quite so much, my hands were tied. I had no control over too many things that were affecting my wife—and it was driving me fucking crazy.

I glanced down at the printout of my daily calendar that Laura had left on my desk this morning. I contemplated leaving early again today, but my day was full. I had contracts to review, and I couldn’t rearrange any of my meetings.I flipped the page to see what was on the schedule for next week. It was clear that skating out of work early a few times a week was starting to catch up with me. My schedule appeared jam-packed straight through to Christmas Eve.

“Dammit.”

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