Page 87 of Push & Pull
The lawyer returned five minutes later.
“Everything’s off the table.” He flung his arms into the air. “The Lambert girl is spilling every bean in her pantry. Her father is capitulating to the police as well. Looks like they won’t need your testimony after all.”
“What’s that mean for my immunity?”
“No more immunity, but the Lambert girl is also testifying that you had no idea you were an unwilling accomplice in the whole thing. Between that, Simone’s version of events, and your own assertions… I think the aiding and abetting charges will be dropped soon enough.”
Petra didn’t celebrate yet. “What about the other things they’ve looked into?” She meant Earl Olivier, and possibly Clyde Quimby. God knew who else.
“We’ll address that tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate.”
Petra wasn’t so sure about that. Not when her chest still tightened and her fingers itched to get a message out to a certain someone.
Chapter 31
“CanIgetyouanything else, Ms. Evans?”
Simone lifted her chin onto her hand as she rolled over on the large bed in her old room. “I’m fine. Thank you, Meredith.”
The housekeeper placed a tray of tea and Simone’s preferred cream on the coffee table between the bed and the dresser. High above the dresser was a mounted TV that played one of Simone’s biggest comfort films.Sleepless in Seattlenever got old, no matter how many times Simone watched it. Probably because it was her mother’s favorite film.
Simone was slow to pull herself off the bed in the faraway wing of Evans Manor. Once upon a time, she had slept in a different room as a child, but once she became a teenager, Elizabeth had this wing remodeled and suited to a young woman’s sensibilities. It had been a big mark of Simone’s development since it signaled Elizabeth allowing her daughter more freedom and say in how she ran her life and expressed herself. It took five minutes to walk from this room to the apartment where Astrid lived.Might not sound like much, but in most houses, it’s ten seconds from your room to your kids’.
It had been left relatively untouched since Simone officially moved out after her father’s second marriage, aside from the occasional guest who was trusted to not touch anything. By that time, Simone had stripped most of the posters from the wall and updated the unicorn-candy furniture to something darker and more tasteful. Black bed frames, dressers, and chests were accented with crimson upholstery and curtains. Portraits of her mother hung on the walls, and now a large painting of Elizabeth Evans that once graced the downstairs foyer hung where Simone’s collection of corkboard college photographs had been.I’ll never forget when Astrid took this down from the foyer. I was so livid.Elena had to talk her down. It had been the same day Simone started taking her new psychiatric meds and they interfered with her brain chemistry in ways nobody had been prepared for.
Only the bedspread had changed. Once Simone temporarily moved back in the wake of her traumatic event, she asked Meredith to remove the old red sheets and comforter. Simone needed to sleep with something a bit more lighthearted. A dusky cream now graced her bed, a lovely accent to the chic black and depressing red.
“By the way, Ms. Evans.” Meredith returned, her deadpan voice as startling as ever. “The other Ms. Evans has asked that you join her and Ms. Staudenmaier for dinner tonight. She says she has good news.”
Simone pulled herself off her bed, wrapping her sweater closer to her body. Every time she attempted to close the front over her chest, however, her shoulders screamed that the seams were too tight. Although Meredith noted this, she said nothing.
“Fine. Suppose I’ve been putting it off long enough.” Astrid invited her to dinner every night for the past three weeks, but Simone got out of as many as she could. It was bad enough that Astrid reminded her of unfortunate events. The way the woman had been coddling Simone since the kidnapping?I can’t take it.Simone couldn’t tell if Astrid was more worried about someone hurting Simone… or Simone hurting herself. She had certainly noted a lack of alcohol in the house. Simone had a glass of wine for most of the dinners she either took in her room or the nearest balcony, but nobody there had any liquor access. She couldn’t even get some pot.
Oh, well.
Simone took off her sweater and left it on the back of the chair. As she bent down to pour herself tea, Meredith asked, “Would you like me to have your sweater washed, Miss? I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been wearing it almost every day since you returned.”
Was that implying it smelled? Probably. Simone didn’t care. “Not right now, thank you. Maybe tomorrow.”
With a polite, subservient smile that Simone knew to be faker than Astrid’s roots, Meredith showed herself out of Simone’s wing.
The cream mixed perfectly into the tea. Yet it wasn’t until Simone placed the dish back on the platter that she realized something was stuck beneath the teapot.
She moved everything aside. A single white envelope awaited her eager fingers.
There was no name on it. Not hers, and not who it was from. Yet as sure as Simone was of the scent on her sweater belonging to some other woman, she knew who this note was from. She couldn’t recall if she had seen Petra’s tiny handwriting before.
“I hope this finds you well. Please don’t tell anyone we’ve communicated. My lawyer says I could get in big trouble, and I’m already fighting for some bullshit charges to be dropped. By the way, my prison girlfriend says she’s jealous and coming for you. Kidding.
Anyway, I’m truly sorry about what happened. If I knew you’d be hurt like that, I wouldn’t have ever taken you anywhere. I wouldn’t have gotten involved with you. I sure as hell would not have led you on in any way. Shit, I’m still apologizing to you for what happened in New York, and that was all me. All the way up to my shitty father. Those are excuses. Not reasons. It doesn’t change what happened.
I’ve been worrying myself sick about you this whole time. I know you probably don’t believe me. That’s fine. It must sound insane. From your perspective, I was nothing but a grifter who wanted something from you. Guess you were right. I did want something from you.
I wanted nothing more than your companionship. Your smile, when you let me see it. Your weird choice in books. Your stupid comments about my taste in music. I loved your reaction to the freakin’ Waffle House. Karaoke. Do you remember it? You actually got into it!
Of course, I wanted your affection, too. I didn’t keep sleeping with you because it was convenient. Do you think I willingly sleep with people, let alone women, who don’t do anything for me? That was half of my work life. I don’t know what I’m going to do once this is behind me, but I know I am definitely out of that life. Meeting you affirmed that for me. My father is a mafia wannabe and my mother is constantly in prison from her own fuckups. I don’t want to be like them. I like to think my grandparents didn’t come to America for us all to end up like this. I may not have had much power to change my future before, but I do now. I want you to be a part of it.
You’re free to say no, of course. You could burn this. Maybe it’ll be intercepted by your stepmother, who has no idea I’m contacting you. I can see why you don’t like her. She’s got a beehive in her bun, but she’s also done a lot to show she cares about what’s going on. Did you know she paid my bail and hired my lawyer? Maybe you did. I don’t know what you know. All I’m saying is that I never expected that, and still don’t feel like I deserve it.
