Page 88 of The Me I Left Behind

“A picture.” Julia handed it to her.

Maggie took it and stared at the smudged image in the frame. She brushed away dust as she focused on the couple. A wedding picture. “Well. That’s definitely Max. Quite a bit younger, but it’s him.”

Julia leaned in closer. “But that blonde bride is definitely not you.”

No, it wasn’t.That took a moment to settle into her brain.Fuck!“The asshole is also married to someone else?”

“Or he was married to someone else before you?” Julia took the picture from Maggie and set it back on the desk.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Looks like it.”

“Maggie, this unit is a treasure trove of information, and we need to go through it.”

Maggie checked the time. “It’s almost noon. I should head home soon. The locksmith.”

“Right,” Julia said. “Keep the key. I’ll spend the night. We’ll come back in the morning with the Escalade and load up stuff. We can use both vehicles.”

Maggie shook her head. “I can’t drive the Escalade. No insurance for me.”

“What the hell, Maggie?”

“It’s Max!”

“Jesus, he is a fucking sonofabitch!”

Maggie held her gaze. “Yes, he is.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll figure that out tonight. Probably no reason to load up stuff anyway, since no one has obviously been here for years, and you have the key now. But let’s take twenty minutes to get a handle on what’s here and maybe take a few things with us.”

“Fine. You take the desk. I want to get a look at those plastic totes.” She wandered toward the stacks. “One thing is for certain, I don’t see an easel or any of my art supplies.”

“Maybe somewhere else? Who knows how many of these storage units Max has. Maybe even under different names?”

Shaking her head, Maggie figured that probably was true. “Unbelievable.”

“Maggie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Rotating back, she made eye contact with Julia and held it. “I don’t even know anymore.”

She tookpictures of the labels on every tote, wanting to leave nothing to memory. Every one of the plastic containers was blue, the labels—made with a label maker—neatly printed in uppercase letters, and affixed tear the top of one end, about two inches down. There were five columns, each column three totes high. Fifteen in all.

“This is so very odd,” Maggie finally said aloud. “Max was never this organized.”

She glanced back at Julia, who was going through the desk.

“Oh? What do the labels say?”

Maggie perused the collection again. “That’s interesting, too. Various things, mostly personal and household items.” She rattled off a few things. “Winter clothes. Summer clothes. Kitchen utensils. Christmas decorations. Books. Nothing really unusual, it’s just that I never pictured Max keeping or saving things like this, let alone organizing them. He did none of that around the house.”

Julia looked up. “No, because he had you to do it.”

“Shit. Truth.”

“Did you look inside any of them?”

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