Page 63 of The Wife Stalker

“I could have been with you. I could have said goodbye to him,” Piper choked out.

“I told you. Your being here was unnecessary. Everything’s been taken care of.”

Piper went cold. “Did you have the funeral without me?” She was incredulous. “Why are you bothering to call me at all, then?”

She heard an intake of breath. “You haven’t been home once in all the years since you left, so I didn’t rush to call you. I just thought you ought to know, that’s all.”

Piper was silent.

“There’s an online obituary. If you want to leave a comment there, you may, but since you weren’t interested in being in touch while he was alive, I don’t see why you want to pretend to care now.” Her mother hung up, and Piper began to cry.

Leo looked at her with concern. “What’s happened?”

“My father died.”

A wave of dizziness overcame her; she walked back over to the rocker and lowered herself into it. Her heart was beating furiously, and tears were running down her face. Leo was suddenly next to her, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t know what she was feeling, except that deep, racking sobs were shaking her now.

So that was it. Her father was dead and gone, and her mother hadn’t even thought to call her until a week later. Even though she’d left her childhood home with no intention of ever going back, she realized now that she’d always hoped for some kind of reconciliation, for a time when her parents might realize theirown part in abandoning her, first emotionally, and then literally, by never looking for her when she took off. Now, that hope was dead and gone, along with her father. How could her mother be so cold? Was she so unlovable that, even now, when her mother was grieving and utterly alone, she didn’t want Piper’s company?

Leo led her back into the house, and she sank down into the living room sofa. He sat next to her, holding her while she focused on her breathing, willing herself to calm down. She would put it behind her, like so many other painful episodes in her past. Her mother may now be alone, butshewasn’t. She had Leo. And Evie and Stelli. They were her family now, her perfect family, and she would pour all her efforts into them.

42

Joanna

I can’t remember the last time I’d taken a long road trip, and I found the drive to Annapolis calming. Cruising along and watching the scenery roll by gave me time to think and reflect. As I discover more and more about Piper and her past, Leo’s behavior seems less of a betrayal than I first thought. He could never be accused of being naive or easily fooled, but it’s obvious to me that there is something about Piper that allows her to insinuate herself into even the smartest man’s affections. Leo is the type of man women find intriguing. He’s strong and masculine, and at the same time solicitous and generous—of men and women equally. His only fault, as far as I’m concerned, is that he’s a workaholic.

Hard work and long hours came naturally to him by way of his father, who kept the restaurant open seven days a week. I thought about the last time I saw the family. They were all at the house, Leo’s parents and his two brothers with their wives and children. It seemed there were kids running around everywhere, and Evie and Stelli were having a great time with all their cousins. I spent most of my time in the kitchen with Leo’s mother. She and the other women in the family had brought trays and trays of delicious and aromatic Greek food, and we were busy heating things and transferring them to platters. It was a veritable feast, as it always was when the family got together.

It always astounded me that a family could be so large and so close, since my upbringing was singularly lonely. It was fascinatingto watch them all together, and it was apparent that they adored Leo. He was the one who had made it big, the first to go to college. And then, when he continued on to law school and became a lawyer, he really became the golden boy.

My thoughts were interrupted by heavy traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike, and I had to concentrate more carefully on my driving. Eventually, I crossed into Delaware and then decided to stop at a rest area for lunch once I hit the Maryland border. When I pulled into the parking lot, I punched the address into my phone’s GPS and saw that I was about an hour away from Ethan Sherwood’s parents’ home.

I’d never been to Annapolis, and when I finally pulled off the highway at exit 28, I began to see why it had been called one of the most charming cities in the country. I passed by large rivers and meandering creeks as I drove to their house, which was at the end of the road on a small peninsula. I pulled up to a beautifully landscaped lot, with seagrasses and graceful trees, and parked on the street. The house was a three-story yellow shingle with a turret room and large front porch.

I breathed in, feeling nervous, and paused for a moment before ringing the bell. Almost immediately, the door opened, and a woman who looked to be in her late sixties stood in front of me.

“Hello, I’m Joanna.”

“Yes, hello, I’m Trish,” she said, running a hand through her silver hair. She had a nice smile and warm brown eyes that put me at ease. “Please, come in. Why don’t we go sit in the living room?”

I followed her down a wide hallway to the back of the house. “Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps some coffee? Or something cold?” she asked.

“Are you having anything?” I asked, not wanting to put her to trouble.

“I usually have an herbal tea in the afternoon.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said.

Trish returned with a tray holding two cups of tea along with milk and sugar and set it down on the coffee table. She handed me a cup, took her own, and then sat in a chair opposite me. “Now, dear, what is it I can help you with?”

I had thought about this carefully beforehand. Since I wasn’t sure of the Sherwoods’ feelings for Piper/Pamela, or if they were even still in contact, I didn’t want to reveal my suspicions, so I’d come up with a slightly different scenario to present. “I’m not sure if you know that Pamela’s living in Connecticut now.”

“Actually, we lost touch a few years after Ethan died. The last time we spoke she was living in California. San Diego.”

“I am sorry about your son. That must have been a terrible time.”

Trish took a sip of tea, and her hand shook as she placed the cup and saucer back on the coffee table. “Yes. It’s something you never really recover from, the death of a child.” She sat back in her chair and gazed at the floor, as if peering into the past. “Ethan was my firstborn. He was bright as a button, full of imagination.” She looked up at me then, her eyes shining. “He loved to tell stories. He’d keep us on the edges of our seats with his tales. He wanted to be a screenwriter, you know. That’s why they went to California.”

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