Meg laughed nervously. “I hope you’re not suggesting that we have ax murderers hidden away in our family tree?”
“No, nothing quite that dramatic. But you might turn up a horse thief or two.” Grandmother smiled, but Meg could see a trace of sadness in her eyes. “Would you send in Rosa to help me get ready for bed, Meggie?”
“Sure, Grandmother. You take it easy now, and don’t overdo. I’ll see you later in the week, okay?”
“All right, Meggie. Say, did I tell you that handsome lawyer friend of yours called me up to make a date with me on Thursday? Hope you’re not jealous.” Grandmother got a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“First of all, there isn’t anything going on between Matthew and me. And second, to hear him talk, I think he’s always been rather fond of you.”
“Go on with you,” said Grandmother, pushing her hand into the air. But Meg could have sworn she saw the old woman blush.
“Good night, Grandmother.”
“Good night, Meggie. I hope you enjoy your new place. I know I always did.”
It was dark when Meg carried her bags up to Sunny’s apartment. Meg kept telling herself that she needed to quit thinking of it as Sunny’s, but she knew it would be difficult. And in a way, she supposed she wouldn’t mind if it always felt a little bit like Sunny’s.
She set down her things and unlocked the door, fumbling in the dark for the light switch. Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. Her heart was pounding with apprehension, but she knew there was nothing to be uptight about. Everything looked just as it had on Monday. It felt a little cool, and she closed the door and searched until she found the thermostat, then turned it up a bit. She hadn’t looked around the rest of the apartment when they’d been here with Sigfried, but now she was ready to explore.
She opened the door to the bedroom and turned on the light. This room, like the rest of the house, was very classy, with a white jacquard bedspread, tapestry pillows, and another Oriental carpet across the fir floor. The furniture was obviously antique, but like the rest of Sunny’s antiques, these pieces were not frilly, but smooth-lined, classic styles. Edwardian, if Meg’s memory of period pieces was still accurate. Whatever it was called, it was a style that Meg had always admired. Several times she had wanted to buy pieces similar to these, but Jerred had stopped her, insisting that they buy new furniture made to go together.
She laid her bags on the bed and started to unpack, but when she opened the closet, she realized that Sunny’s things were still inside. The sight of the unfamiliar clothes startled Meg, for the rest of the house almost seemed like a nice hotel, so clean and free of everyday clutter. Meg had almost forgotten that Sunny had actually lived here. Eaten here. Slept here.
Meg stood before the closet, staring at Sunny’s clothes. The space wasn’t overly full; probably Sunny had already begun to thin things out. Meg could see that by simply pushing some garments aside, she would have plenty of room to hang up her own things. But for some reason, she couldn’t make herself touch Sunny’s clothes.
For what seemed like an eternity, she stood there with an armful of her own clothing, staring blindly into the closet. After a time, she realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. That old iron clamp fastened itself onto her heart again, and she felt paralyzed, incapacitated. As the clamp tightened, she suddenly burst into action. She dropped her things on the floor and fled from the apartment, down to the sidewalk below. Telling herself she was behaving like a child, she gazed up at the apartment but couldn’t make herself climb the stairs again.
She paced back and forth on the sidewalk, feeling like a fool and wondering if anyone was watching her. It was a cold, foggy, night and she was outside in jeans and a thin T-shirt, pacing like a caged tiger. There was a phone booth across the street. Maybe she should call Erin. But she didn’t even have a quarter. Perhaps she could call collect. How utterly ridiculous she was being. Erin was probably helping her girls with their homework and getting Ashley to bed. Meg thought of Abby. She also thought of Matthew, but wasn’t ready to take that step. But Abby had told her to call whenever she needed a friend. Meg marched over to the phone booth and called.
Matthew answered and accepted the charges. When Meg asked for Abby, he told her that Abby was teaching a painting class tonight.
“Oh,” said Meg, shivering in the cold. “Well, just tell her I called then.” She tried to make her voice sound light but knew it hadn’t worked.
“Are you okay, Meg?”
The note of sympathy in his voice was her undoing, and she began to sob.
“Meg, what is it? Where are you? Can I help you?”
“In a—phone—booth,” she choked.
“Where? What phone booth?”
“By Sunny’s. But I’m okay—really—” Her words came out in short, choppy breaths.
“I’m coming right over. Wait for me.”
She replaced the receiver and leaned her head against the phone, biting her lip and trying to stop the flow of tears. She did not want Matthew to see her like this. She was tempted to hide, but that would be even more childish, and Matthew would probably have the police out looking for her. She walked across the street and sat on the bench in front of the gallery, still crying. A gloomy blanket of fog was wrapped around the town tonight, creating blue circles of light around the lampposts. It soaked through her T-shirt and penetrated her bones.
“Meg,” Matthew called from the open window of his car as he pulled up in front of her. He parked and leaped from his car in one swift action. “Are you okay? What is it?”
“I’m so sorry, Matthew.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I’m so embarrassed. I know I’m being childish. I can’t even explain it.” Despite her embarrassment, she was glad to see him. If only the circumstances were different.
“It’s okay. Take your time.” He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She sat for a few minutes, soaking in its warmth and trying to get hold of herself.
“This seems to be becoming a habit,” she said, attempting to smile, but her chin quivered so badly she knew it was a useless endeavor.
“Don’t worry. I always enjoy rescuing damsels in distress.”
“It’s really quite silly. You see, Sunny left me her apartment to live in. And it was wonderful of her to do it. The apartment is beautiful. Fantastic. I really do love it. I was moving in tonight. And, well—” She felt the tears building up again and knew she had to talk fast. “I was going to hang my clothes in her closet. And then I saw all her things just hanging there and—that’s when I lost it. I fell apart and came running down here like a baby. Here I was, and I didn’t even have my car keys, or my purse, or any money at all. Then I thought if I could talk to someone… Abby had told me to call her anytime, but I didn’t really mean to drag you out here like this…”
“It’s okay, Meg. I don’t mind. We’re friends, too, aren’t we? And believe it or not, I do understand.” His voice was gentle and soothing.
“Thanks.” Meg noticed that he had one arm around her and was gently rubbing her shoulder. She could imagine him doing the same for Clive. But suddenly she knew she didn’t want to be treated like his daughter.
“Now, before we both freeze to death, would you like me to come up there with you? Or do you want to go somewhere for a cup of coffee? You’re welcome to spend the night at our house. Clive has bunk beds, and I’m sure she’d be glad to share her room with you.”
Meg gave him a watery smile.
“There now,” he said, giving her shoulder a final pat before removing his arm. Meg instantly felt the cold. “So what will it be?”
She looked up at the apartment. The lighted window glowed cheerfully in the foggy night. “I really should stay here. I’m just not sure if I can or not. Am I being ridiculous?”
“Not at all. Well, whatever you decide to do tonight, you’ll probably need to go up there and get some of your things. Right?”
“Rig
ht. Do you mind coming up?”
“Not at all.”
Matthew led the way, and she followed. It was nice and warm inside now, and again she wondered why she had reacted so strongly.
“This place is really great,” said Matthew. “Very well done. Sunny obviously put a lot of time and care into decorating.”
“I know. And I really didn’t expect to feel like this. It’s just—I don’t know. Anyway, I think there’s some decaf coffee in here,” said Meg as she walked into the kitchen. “Siggie made us some the other night. Would you like a cup if I can figure out where everything is?”
“Sure.”
Feeling Matthew’s eyes on her, Meg awkwardly searched through the cupboards for the coffee and filters. After a few minutes she had a pot brewing. She sat on one of the tall bar stools across the counter from Matthew and stared at her hands for a long moment before speaking.
“Thanks for coming up, Matthew. I’m starting to feel better already. Just being in the kitchen and doing something normal helps.”
“Don’t feel as if you have to explain,” said Matthew quietly. “I told you that I understand.”
Meg poured them each a mug of steaming coffee, then turned back to Matthew. “Do you take anything in it? Although I doubt if there’s any cream or anything.” He shook his head as she handed him his cup to him.
“Do you want to try sitting in the living room?” he asked.
“Sure. It’s not like I think the place is haunted or anything. It’s just—difficult.”
“I know.” They moved to the sectional, and Matthew sat in the middle of one side. Meg perched on the other side. “It was like that for me the first time I came home after Gina died.”
“Gina was your wife?”
He nodded. “Regina.”
“Like the boat.”
He nodded again. “Actually, Clive named the boat, but I thought it was very sweet.”
“Clive is a very sweet girl.”
“She is. She was only seven when Gina died. It was hard on her. I don’t know what I would have done without Abby. She’s been a lifesaver.”
Meg nodded. “She seems like a very stable person to have around. That’s why I called her tonight.”
“Meaning that I’m not stable?” He lifted one brow.
“No, I didn’t mean that.” She smiled, feeling more at ease. “It’s just that it felt more comfortable to call Abby. It’s silly and old-fashioned, I know, but I just don’t think women should call men. Silly, isn’t it? No one would believe I’m the daughter of Sunny Lancaster.”
“I wouldn’t say that. In fact, you remind me of her in a lot of ways. Actually, much more than Erin does.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“Same even, controlled temperament.”
“You would describe Sunny like that?”
“Sure. She may have been a free spirit, spontaneous, and somewhat eccentric, but she was also very much in control. Very strong. Very independent and confident.”
Meg nodded thoughtfully, trying to take it all in. She felt it must be true. Others had told her the same thing, but the conversation felt so removed, as if they were talking about another woman. Someone else’s mother.
“And I see a lot of those same traits in you. Although I think you try and repress some of them.”
“Such as?”
“I think you’ve tried to live very carefully, perhaps too carefully. That you’ve been afraid to do anything too risky.”
Meg didn’t say anything at first. Even if he was right, it was irritating to be so neatly classified like that. “So if I’m so careful,” said Meg with a trace of sarcasm in her voice, “how do you explain my coming up here? I would think that quitting my job, selling my car, and pretty much reinventing my life is fairly risky.”
“So you’ve finally made up your mind, then?” Matthew asked mildly.
Meg nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact. And if I hadn’t gone into hysterics tonight, I would be happily spending my first night in my wonderful apartment, ready to start my new job down in the gallery in the morning.”
“I see.”
Seeing the patient expression in his eyes, Meg suddenly felt contrite. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. The truth is, what you said about my living carefully was exactly right. Or used to be, anyway. I spent almost twenty years living in the same place, doing the same thing. I was never truly happy, but I wasn’t brave enough to try anything new. If it hadn’t been for an engagement that went wrong, I wouldn’t be here now.”
“So did you come here to run away from a relationship? Or to nurse a broken heart?” Meg noted that his tone was more intense than it had been before.
“Neither. Or maybe a little bit of both. Actually, I knew it wasn’t a good relationship. But it was convenient. And at the time, it felt safe.” She shook her head. “But I’m glad that I got away when I did.” Meg looked at her watch. It was getting late.
“Matthew, you should probably go. I’m sure you have to get up early in the morning.” She frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to push you out, after all that you’ve done…”
“You’re not.” He grinned. “But what about you, Meg? If I leave, are you going to be able to handle it tonight? You can still come bunk with Clive.”
“I’d hate to disturb her, Matthew. She’s probably already asleep by now, and she has school tomorrow.”
Matthew set down his empty coffee mug. “Well, like I said, I know how you feel. It was really hard for me that first night.”
“How did you get through it?”
“I prayed a lot. And I read my Bible.”
“You know, I don’t even have a Bible anymore. Isn’t that awful? I’ll have to get one.”
Matthew reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small brown leather book and handed it to her.
“The New Testament,” she read.
“And the Psalms.”
“I’ve never seen such a small Bible. Maybe I’ll get one like this.” She started to hand it back, but he held up his hands.
“You keep it.”
“Oh, could I? Just for the night, I mean? And I will get my own tomorrow.”
“No, I want you to keep it for good. It’s yours. Okay?”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Thanks.” She felt a warmth slowly replacing the hollow weariness inside.
“I’ll mark some places for you to read. Some of the Psalms might help. And one more thing, Meg.”
“What’s that?”
“Can I pray with you?”
“Sure, if you want. But I have to warn you, I’m lousy at praying out loud with people. I can do okay by myself, or silently, in my heart. But when I try to speak in front of others, the words sound so silly and I forget what I’m saying—” Meg realized she was rambling and closed her mouth.
“Don’t worry. God can hear silent prayers just as well.”
Matthew began to pray. It wasn’t a fancy prayer with flowery words, yet it sounded very real, and very powerful. He asked God to protect her and to drive away her fears, and lots of other things that she couldn’t even remember with her mind, but they seemed to be rooting in her heart.
“Thanks, God,” she whispered after Matthew said amen.
He looked up and smiled. “Are you going to be okay, Meg? I’d hate to put your reputation at risk, what with this being your first night in your apartment, but I was half thinking of offering to spend the night—on your couch, of course.”
“That’s sweet. And what about your reputation?”
“Ah, but you forget I’m a lawyer. What kind of reputation could I possibly have?”
She laughed and thanked him, then assured him that she would be fine. In fact, she thought she might sleep on the couch herself—just for tonight.
After Matthew flipped through the Bible and jotted down some passages for her, he wished her good night and left, closing the door quietly. Meg curled up on t
he sectional with a thick afghan and began to read the places he had marked. Finally, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. She realized that most of the lights were still on, but she didn’t care. She whispered another prayer, and she didn’t wake up until morning.
TWENTY FIVE
Meg opened the shop at nine o’clock the next morning with no problem. She turned on the lights and put a stack of CDs in the stereo, then lit a couple of large jasmine candles. Siggie had explained that this helped cover the musty smell of the old building. After flipping over the Open sign in front, she began to brew a pot of golden pecan coffee.
The shop remained quiet for the first hour, but Meg was grateful for the chance to become more familiar with the pieces on display and the layout of the shop. When a customer came in, she wanted to appear knowledgeable. She browsed around the perimeter of the building, taking in each artist’s style and works, as well as the unusual artifacts Sunny had collected over the years. She paused a bit longer when she reached the photo display of her own work, still neatly arranged on a good-sized portion of wall. She wondered if Siggie, in his hurry to see his father, had overlooked taking these pieces down. Perhaps she should take care of it herself. Or maybe not. It might be interesting to see people’s responses to the photography. She gently pulled down the placard that Sunny had made with Meg’s name on it.
In a back section of the shop, divided by a long, wooden counter, was a picture-framing area, complete with all styles and colors of frames and mat board, where Sunny and Siggie helped patrons to pick out frames and borders, then put them together. There were also several large art catalogs available for browsing, in case a customer wanted to order a special signed print or lithograph. Meg examined some of the frames and remembered that she still hadn’t picked up the enlargements she’d ordered of the sailing-trip photos. She’d been very pleased with some of the shots and was anxious to see if any enlargements had turned out well enough to frame and give away.
By midmorning, Erin and Ashley arrived. Erin settled Ashley into a corner with several puzzles and a coloring book; then Meg walked Erin through the process of recording sales, making orders, and some of the other paperwork details.
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