Page 66 of This Is How It Started
I get the feeling that Josie has a Stephen story of her own but is keeping it to herself. Perhaps it’s out of loyalty to Hannah. My sister is her client, after all.
I put my fork down and blow out a breath. “Maybe you can tell her. She likes you better than us.”
“No, she doesn’t. She loves you and she loves Adam, and on some level, she has to know that her dickhead husband is cheating.”
“On that note, there’s more.” In that split second, I decide to tell her, even if it does sully her memory of Josh, who she adored. I go through my texts and show her the picture of Beth, which I’ve now sent to my phone because I’m a glutton for punishment.
And after all that, Josie’s response is, “So what? So he had a girlfriend? You had boyfriends. My God, you had Campbell.”
“Hello, he lived with this woman? He was obviously brokenhearted when she dumped him for the dude she was probably doing while she was still with Josh. He begged her to come back to him. Are you paying attention? For all intents and purposes, they were married. The fact that he saved all those text messages for all these years—you know how he is about cleaning out unnecessary stuff—and never once mentioned her to me proves her importance to him. For all I know, he was still in love with her right up until the day he died.”
“Okay, you have a point. But he loved you, Rach. Please, don’t let this ruin what you had. We all have someone in our past”—she pins me with a look—“that we don’t talk about. Don’t make this more than that.”
“That’s the thing, Jo, Josh knew everything about Campbell and me. I could tell him because I had moved on.”
She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, silently calling me out.
Chapter 24
The Stephen Affair
The mystery writers are leaving today, and I’m actually sad to see them go. Not that I won’t be happy to get my bedroom back, but the group was fun.
It’s not every day that you walk past the dining room and hear someone say, “Just kill him. He’s gratuitous anyway.” I’m still laughing over that one.
And they were incredibly complimentary about the house and how comfortable they were staying here. I can’t say I loved cleaning up after them—they weren’t the neatest people—but they made up for it by being so genuinely appreciative. I’ll also miss Brooke’s meals. I can’t remember ever eating this well.
Now that the coast will be clear of houseguests, Campbell is returning to finish the job on the pool house. Brooke has already booked the guest cottage for the next week to a couple relocating to the Bay Area who need a place to stay while they house hunt. That’s where I hopefully come in. By now, I’m sure Chip is wondering if I’ve been abducted by aliens.
While Brooke’s in the kitchen making the group’s farewell breakfast, I load the luggage onto the elevator and take it down to the mudroom. The airport van will be here in an hour or so to shuttle the writers to SFO.
“You need any help in here?” The kitchen smells like baked apples and fresh bread.
“You can start on the dishes.”
I roll up my sleeves and get to work rinsing and carefully stacking everything in the dishwasher. As much as I hate to admit it, Brooke and I make a good team. All week we’ve been a synchronized machine.
“What are you making?” I’m still full from last night’s dinner, baked salmon, couscous and roasted baby carrots that melted in my mouth. Whatever is going on in the oven, though, is making me salivate.
“German apple pancakes. I made the batter last night.”
I finish the dishes and look around for something else to do. Brooke’s already set the table. She doesn’t have my mother’s artistic flair, but her spare workmanlike style comes off as elegant rather than plain. “Want me to get going on the coffee?”
“That would be great.” She slides the bacon into a skillet, and I hear it sizzle on the range, filling the kitchen with even more delicious smells. “I got a call from a guy who wants to rent the house for a bachelor party in July. Friday through Sunday. But I’m on the fence about it. He sounded young and...a bachelor party could get rowdy.”
Uh, you think?
“I’m worried about the house getting trashed.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I was away from my desk and had to check the schedule.” She laughs. “I just hate to turn away good money. What do you think?”
“What’s good money?”
“Four thousand.”
For two nights, hell yeah it was good money. But a bachelor party does sound risky. I know guys who I went to college with who had some raunchy ones. According to legend, Kit Markides had hookers at his and an orgy in the swimming pool. Though the nearest neighbors are a good football field away, it seems wrong, like we’re turning the block into a frat house.
