When Robert refused to let her help with the clearing up, she went outside and sat on the porch swing and texted Dylan, the man who’d sat here with her earlier this month. She wondered if he and the kids had eaten yet, whether they were playing games or sitting around as they were doing here, too full to do anything.
His reply was brief. He was probably busy with the kids. He said they’d had a lovely dinner and already he was looking forward to meeting up tomorrow. Cleo put her phone beside her and pushed with her feet so the swing would go back and forth; gently, as too vigorous and she was in danger of feeling queasy after so much turkey and velvety mashed potatoes that she’d smothered in pale, flavoursome gravy.
When Cleo returned inside, it wasn’t long before Violet got her on her own again and asked more about Dylan. Cleo told her all about the evening at the Chinese restaurant, the café afterwards.
‘It sounds as though you really like him.’
‘I do.’
‘I’ve been asking Robert about him, and from what he says, Dylan sounds like a genuine guy.’ Violet picked up discarded napkins and refolded them or replaced them if they were soiled, ready for the next course of pumpkin pie.
In a split second, Cleo made a decision. ‘Would you mind if I skipped dessert?’
Napkin half-folded, Violet looked at her friend and smiled. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’
‘I’m going to walk over to see Dylan.’ She took out her phone and texted him to let him know she was coming. ‘Do you think he’ll mind? He did ask me to go originally.’
‘I think it’s a lovely idea.’
‘I’ll just use your bathroom.’ Cleo escaped and freshened up, thankful she’d thrown a miniature bottle of her favourite perfume and a lipstick into her bag.
When Dylan still hadn’t replied after ten minutes, and Cleo had finished in the bathroom, she decided to head on over there anyway. She knew his address from responding to his initial notice letter. It’d been at the top of the paper and had one of those posh, gold labels that held down the envelope seal. She shrugged on her coat. It was an early-winter wear and not overly thick, but she’d taken off the detachable faux-fur collar and swapped it for a scarf to add the colour of buttermilk. Made out of a combo of cashmere, fine merino wool, and smooth silk, the garment was snuggly warm and soft against her cheeks when they pinked in the cool air.
It wasn’t far from Violet’s home to Redcliffe Place where Dylan lived. She wondered whether he’d fallen asleep if he’d had as much to eat as they had at Violet’s this afternoon, and the closer she got to his house the more she thought this was exactly the right thing to do. Just like with the business, maybe it was time to take more of a giant step forward rather than tottering along and playing it safe all the while.
She rounded the corner of Redcliffe Place, and glancing at the numbers, knew Dylan’s place must be towards the end of the no-through road. The houses here were enormous but no less welcoming with their neat front lawns, lighting adding a soft glow to street frontages. She passed a gentleman walking his dog and they exchanged greetings ofHappy Thanksgiving,then passed three kids climbing a tree in the front yard, their mum telling them to put coats on before they caught a chill. Cleo walked on. She would’ve liked to have kids. Even though it’d been her decision not to go down that road, she would have very much liked to have had the chance. But not everyone did, and her decision had been the right one for her. The one that would protect her the most.
She continued past another two homes matching in grandeur, and with darkness surrounding her save the lights that illuminated the largest property in Redcliffe Place at the very end, she realised this was it. This was Dylan’s home. Number twenty-two was far bigger than she’d imagined. The garden jutted out to the sides, and from what she could see it extended way out back too. A pillar-framed porch separated two pointed parts of the roof at the front of the house and a golden glow came from behind several windows dotted over the property. Cleo wondered whether if you yelled from the room with the glow on the bottom left, you had any hope of being heard in the room that glowed in the top right-hand side. She doubted it.
She was about to start down the path lined with shrubs on either side when the front door opened and two kids came hurtling out, giggling.
‘You wait there!’ The little girl yelled as Cleo hung back next to the enormous tree set back from the drive but whose branches, come summer, would provide welcome shade on a hot day. The girl went to the side of the driveway, checked nobody was behind her and hid something behind a low cut bush that ran down the edge of the property.
‘Ready?’ came another voice, before a little boy with his hands over his eyes appeared on the porch.
The girl ran back towards him. ‘Yes, ready. But you have to wait for the others or it’s not fair, you’ll have a head start.’
Others?
She heard a female voice, and soon after a stunning woman with dead straight blonde bobbed hair so neat it made Cleo want to grab a brush and tame the waves in hers right away, came out too.
‘Mommy, where’s Daddy?’ The little girl asked.
Mommy? Cleo gulped. She’d moved behind the tree some more and hoped she hadn’t been seen but if she moved away now they would notice her for sure. And the only thing worse than finding out Dylan had been with his ex-wife for Thanksgiving dinner would be having them both see her to witness how gutted she was.
Too late. Cleo caught sight of the curtain move at the upstairs window. It was Dylan and he was looking in her direction right now.
Cleo turned immediately and left. Tears pricked her eyes and she angrily swiped them away from either cheek. Whether the woman and the kids saw her, she had no idea, but she didn’t allow her legs to let up. She buried her face and her pride in the softness of her scarf, walked past all those dreamlike houses, back to the main road.
She’d been kidding herself. Take a risk? Be happy? Life was far easier when she knew what was what. Tonight had told her that much. Dead or alive, their mom was their mom, and she knew from bitter experience that the woman who tried to be the replacement had one hell of a battle on her hands.
Maybe she should’ve stayed and had dessert with Violet after all.
11
STAMFORD, CONNECTICUT
‘Cleo, wait!’ Dylan rounded the corner and could just about see her up ahead as she walked beneath a streetlight. She could walk fast, that was for sure. ‘Cleo!’ Had she heard him? Stupid question, he knew very well she had and he also knew why she’d left so quickly without knocking on the front door.
