The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  Margo finished the champagne, put the glass on the table, and closed her eyes. Memories that were inspired by two glasses of alcohol were pleasant.

  The plan was perfect. Margo spent almost a month learning about one particular part of Canada. She searched for photos, videos, and blogs to explore the area thoroughly. Her decision to go to a different country was genius. The American police wouldn’t have a large enough budget to travel there to do a deep investigation and the Canadian police wouldn’t care enough to do that. When she bought tickets, she knew every turn of the route in the mountains that they were going to take with the group. Charles was surprised when Margo told him about the trip, but she explained her choice easily. She went to that place with her mother, now it was the anniversary of her death, and Margo wanted to pay tribute to her memory. Charles wasn’t a talkative person and after marrying Margo he lost most of his friends, so he didn’t tell anyone about the reasons for her choice and of course there wasn’t anyone who could tell him that Margo had never been to Canada in her life or that her mother was alive, although she didn’t live, she just existed as far as Margo was concerned. Margo also said that she wanted to repair their marriage, which had begun to crumble. Charles nodded, agreed to everything, but he didn’t look into her eyes. Their eye contact was at a minimum, she noticed that, but her interest in this marriage was money not the way her husband looked at her.

  Margo booked a mountain hike with the group intentionally. It wasn’t smart to be there alone because it would raise suspicions. So, the hike it was. She hated any kind of tourism, especially anything that had something to do with nature and lack of civilization and stores, but she put on heavy boots for the first time in her life, also sweatpants, and a stupid jacket. She hated every second of being in these clothes, but smiled all the same. Charles didn’t suspect what her real mood was (after all, she was an inveterate tourist), when she walked, smiling, over dust and stones. She was smiling and chatting about the beauty of nature and fresh air, at the same time trying not to curse everyone and everything. She tried not to even think about her real uptake of the situation because her real emotions could reflect on her face. She was good at pretending, but mosquitos and sun were gaining an upper hand. Margo smiled, raised her face to the sun, and talked, talked, talked about the trip and how grateful she was to her husband for agreeing to go with her, how much she loved him, and how she couldn’t imagine her life without him. People in the group looked at them. Some of them smiled, but others could barely contain their irritation. As soon as they reached the right point, which looked exactly like the photos, Margo’s shoelace came untied and she dropped her backpack and all its contents spilled out. When they stopped, Margo told the group to go ahead. They would catch up with them.

  “Are you all right, love?” Charles asked. He helped her to tie her shoe without looking at her.

  “You are so nice.” Margo smiled and kissed him on the lips. Then she panicked and said that her phone seemed to have fallen off the cliff.

  “Would you check?” she said. “Maybe you can see it. I don’t know. Could I have forgotten it in the hotel?”

  Charles was nice and he went to the very edge of the cliff and bent down for a better view, holding his hand on a tree. As Margo once pushed the chair from under her grandmother’s feet, now she pushed Charles, only on his back. One push was enough to help an unsuspecting person fly down like a mountain eagle. Margo made sure he lay still at the bottom before calling for help.

  “Of course, they interrogated me, but they couldn’t make me responsible,” Margo muttered, opening her eyes. She still wanted strawberries and that was why she got up, picked up the empty glass from the table, and headed to the house to change her clothes again. It was too much work, she deserved more.

  “I have to hire an assistant,” Margo said, putting her glass in the sink and heading to the bedroom. She enjoyed sleeping there alone, in her new bed.

  CHAPTER 2

  If Margo wanted something, Margo would get it. If she decided to hire an assistant, she would hire an assistant after selling the boat, so she would have money for salary. Margo absolutely loved to give orders to a girl who was almost her age (Daisy was two years younger) and who was afraid to look into her eyes. Buy food, take things to the dry cleaners, fill up the gas tank. Margo also liked the fact that the girl was cute. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, slender figure. Her face was angelic. She wasn’t as beautiful as her boss, but still nice looking. She could hire an assistant for herself with her looks, but no, she worked for others. She worked for people who were rude to her or unfair. She tolerated horrible treatment in exchange for money. It meant she didn’t have enough intelligence to live a better lifestyle and she deserved what she received. That was what Margo thought.

  Daisy worked three days a week, at least for the time being, because Margo didn’t want to overspend even though she finally received her money. It was much less after Uncle Sam took his share, but Margo didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to live. So she hired an assistant and also a cleaning lady who came twice a week to polish her new furniture, the glass door in the shower, and the marble floors.

  “This is what I call living,” Margo told herself. “This is life.”

  Of course, she knew that if she didn’t add money to the account, the luxuries would unfortunately end, but this didn’t bother her much at the moment. She didn’t try to save and went to spas and expensive stores.

  “I used to shop at Marshalls,” Margo whispered, looking at racks of dresses that she couldn’t even dream of in the past. She went to the expensive and respectable Nordstrom where they had a new collection of clothes and shoes. Today was Daisy’s day to work and Margo took her shopping. She liked to use her assistant instead of a cart and watched other customers noticing it.

  “I like this one too.”

  Margo added dress number nine to the pile her assistant held. Margo noticed the girl was tired, but she liked it. She was the only one in the store at this hour who had an assistant.

  “This red one will look great on me too, right?” Margo asked, putting the dress against herself.

  “Yeah, it looks cool,” Daisy said wearily.

  “Is something wrong?” Margo asked with a smile.

  “No, everything is fine,” Daisy smiled back. Her smile was unhappy. Margo nodded and tossed the red dress on top of the others. After thirty minutes, Daisy said she had to use the restroom and Margo knew she was lying, but couldn’t stop her.

  “You chose a perfect time for the restroom,” she remarked.

  “It’s my body,” the girl began, but Margo interrupted her.

  “Please, don’t tell me about your bodily needs. TMI. Go, put everything in the fitting room, and come back quickly, so I won’t have to look for you.”

  “Okay. My phone is turned on, if you need me.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Margo said. “Of course, it’s on.”

  The girl lowered her eyes and hurried to the dressing room.

  “Idiot,” Margo said. She looked around once more and headed for the shoe department. It wouldn’t hurt to buy a couple of new pairs to add to her extensive collection. A woman couldn’t have too many shoes or bags. Or anything. She was walking to the escalator when someone ran into her, almost knocking her down.

  “Watch where you’re going!” Margo shouted, almost choking with anger.

  “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.” The man, who so unceremoniously crashed into her, picked up the shirts from the floor and then froze, staring at Margo. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to say anything.

  “What?” Margo asked. “Do you wonder if you broke my arm? Almost!”

  The man shook his head, adjusted the shirts on his arm.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” he said as he continued to adjust the shirts that were still on hangers. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes,” Margo answered more calmly, sizing up the man. He had no rings on his fingers, his shoes
were expensive, his watch was expensive, and the shirts he chose to buy had labels of expensive brands. He was also older than her, about forty maybe a little less, with dark hair and a belly. The belly, however, didn’t make him unattractive. After taking in his affluent appearance, Margo paid closest attention to his eyes. They were kind. He had kind, gray eyes and gently outlined lips. His eyes now expressed powerlessness and admiration.

  “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so clumsy sometimes.”

  “Okay, okay.” Margo smiled. She knew that her smile was driving men mad. This one wasn’t an exception. He bared his teeth, which were too even and unnaturally polished to be real. Veneers, lots of money.

  “Where are you going? This is the women’s department.”

  “I know!” the man said. “I’m going to a meeting with one of my new clients, one very capricious lady, and I need to be ready for anything. I got these shirts for myself, but I need to buy something for her. The girl downstairs suggested getting her a scarf. I have no idea what kind of scarf. I know nothing about scarves or women’s fashion at all, to be honest.”

  Margo laughed. She knew that if her smile conquered, her laughter disarmed completely.

  “You’re funny,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s true. Sometimes I laugh at myself.”

  “Margaret, I’m back.”

  Margo wanted to yell at the girl, demand that she disappear, but she turned to her and talked to her as politely as she could. She was so polite that Daisy turned pale.

  “Please, wait for me in the dressing room.”

  “Okay.”

  Daisy almost ran toward the dressing room and Margo returned her attention to the gentleman, hoping that he didn’t leave, even though she already knew that he wasn’t going anywhere until she let him go.

  “My assistant,” Margo said.

  “Mine is also annoying, today is her day off.” The man smiled and stared at Margo. She raised her eyebrows and the man shuddered. “Sorry. You have such ... impeccable taste,” he said. “This scarf. Maybe you could ... I mean, if you have a minute.”

  Margo wanted to make this suggestion, but he got ahead of her.

  “Of course, I’ll help you.” Margo said.

  “My God, this is wonderful! You saved my life! Please, excuse my lack of manners, my name is Michael.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Margaret,” she said. “You can call me Margo.”

  “Margo? What a beautiful name! It was created for you.”

  The man reached out to shake Margo’s hand and again, his shirts fell back to the floor.

  “Oh, come on now! I’m sorry!” He moaned, gathering his clothes. Margo watched him and smiled. When he straightened up again, she pointed her hand in the direction of the accessories and pulled out a pretty silk scarf.

  “I’m so happy to have met you,” the man muttered, taking the scarf from Margo. “Thank you. You have helped me so much. I wanted to ask the salesgirls, but they are all busy with other customers.”

  “It wasn’t a problem for me. I actually quite enjoyed helping.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome. Your wife is probably too busy.”

  “My wife? My wife. No, I’m a widower.” The man shook his head sadly.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. What happened to her?”

  “She was killed in a car accident. She was here one second and gone the next.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. What a coincidence, meeting you now. I also recently became a widow. My husband died tragically a little over five months ago. As you said, one second he was here, and the next second he was gone.”

  “Really? That is a coincidence. My wife died a little over a year ago, and I still miss her. I’m sure you feel the same. It’s so fresh for you.”

  “Yes, of course.” Margo sighed. She tried to squeeze out a tear, but remembered that her mascara wasn’t waterproof. “I think about him every day. It’s so tough to be alone, you know? There’s no one to protect me, or to give advice. I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s all so fresh.”

  “Please, don’t apologize. I can see you are upset. I am actually running terribly late for a meeting right now. May I give you my card? Maybe we can get together later and have coffee. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone to feel better.”

  “Of course. We have a lot in common.”

  The man stuck his hand into his pants pocket and dropped all of his belongings again. Margo wanted to laugh, but restrained her emotions.

  Pulling out a whole package of cards, he took one out of a clip and gave it to Margo.

  “Thank you,” she said, glancing at the name on the card.

  “Please, call me. Or send me a message! I owe you dinner for your help. Promise?”

  Margo nodded.

  “May I have your number too, just in case?” the man said wistfully.

  Margo thought the guy was a moron.

  “Of course,” she said.

  Margo dialed the number from the card and heard the standard signal in a couple of seconds, which came from the man’s pants.

  “There,” he said, blushing. “Thank you. Now I have your number.”

  “Good. Go. I don’t want you to be late for your meeting, Michael.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Margaret. Margo.”

  The man blushed even more.

  Margo smiled and waited for him to go down the escalator then found a chair for the shoppers and sat down in it to do a Google search. She wasn’t a girl who put off something until tomorrow when it could be done today. She entered his phone number in the search engine and found a link.

  Michael Buckler, Financial Consultant

  She opened the site and found a bunch of nonsense, like if you don’t know what to do with your money, make a call.

  “I could do his job too,” Margo chuckled. “Easy. Just show me the money and I’ll be happy to advise you where to put it.”

  Margo searched further and found more phone number links for Michael Buckler Consulting, but no criminal records or anything like that.

  “Okay, that will do.” Margo threw the phone into her bag and decided to go and get some coffee. She went to the escalator and heard her name. She turned, irritated, and saw her assistant.

  “Your dressing room is ready,” she said.

  “I remember.” Margo rolled her eyes. She had completely forgotten about her assistant and the reason for her store visit. She came here to find something nice and found not only dresses, but also a man. The day was definitely a success.

  CHAPTER 3

  The area of the Town Center was unusually empty for Friday evening, perhaps because of the pouring rain that had passed two hours before the meeting. Margo wasn’t afraid of this sudden turn of weather, it was common for Florida and wasn’t an obstacle for going on a date.

  Michael called her the same day after they met in the store and asked, stuttering, if there was any room in her busy schedule to meet him for dinner. She promised to check her calendar and she sent him a message an hour later. It happened that she was free this evening, which was rare. He sent her a reply with an invitation to the most expensive restaurant at the plaza. Margo was there only a couple of times with her husband, so she didn’t worry that owners or waiters would remember her in a big daily flow. Regardless, it didn’t matter. She was a widow and had the right to be happy just like anyone else. What could they do anyway? Shake their finger because she started dating too soon? They could try, but she would bite off their finger. Margo was a specialist in biting off fingers and whole hands.

  “I've been thinking about you all this time,” Michael said as they sat down at the table. His face turned red as soon as he saw her and now the red spots were dimming.

  Margo straightened the skirt of her short, blue dress ran her finger along the décolleté line as if tracing it, but actually focusing his attention on the right spot. She knew how easy it was to control men. You just need to show a
little leg or wear a dress that will emphasize your breasts and he will be yours. Well, partially. One needed brains in addition to looks if she wanted to get married. Margo didn’t suffer the absence of the latter. No, not everyone she wanted to see as her husband became one, but she achieved her goal. Sooner or later.

  “Me too,” she said, observing the vanishing spots on Michael’s face, which now turned pink. He wiped his face with a napkin and opened the menu, but didn’t look at it.

  “Thank you for meeting me, Margo. How did you ... How was your day?” The man stuttered and fumbled with the open page of the menu.

  “It was great! I got so much done. It was a productive day.”

  Margo came up with the idea of selling cosmetics. The applicant for her hand and heart, or rather a suitable candidate for the time being, shouldn’t think that she wanted to be with him for his money. A busy, independent woman had always been ranked higher among employed, independent men.

  “I’m flattered you found time for me in your busy schedule.” Michael blushed again.

  “Stop it.” Margo waved her hand and smiled. “I’ll always find time for an interesting person.”

  “Such a beautiful woman on ...”

  “Would you like something to drink before you order?” The waiter approached their table and interrupted another stuttering compliment. He looked at Margo questioningly. She didn’t want to waste her time determining Michael’s generosity gradually. Her motto was to test men right away and to move on if expectations didn’t match.