Page 90 of Playing With Love

Actually, everything in Allyson’s home had a bent to soft and feminine, down to the peach-colored walls throughout the house, including both bedrooms and the bathroom. The bedrooms were so small they only fit full-sized mattresses. I’d only glanced in the master but Allyson had decorated in all whites. The guest room was done in sage green and pale gray with a wall full of framed leaves—a varied display of foliage pressed between two pieces of glass. I couldn’t say it was ugly but I certainly wouldn’t use the idea to decorate my house. Between the pastel color palate, artwork, and flowered bedspread, the motif would have a lesser man worried a night spent in that room might shrivel his balls. Hell, I was secure in my masculinity and still I’d had to fight back the urge to book a hotel when I’d carried in our bags.

Yet, somehow all of this fit Allyson’s personality. Even though she wasn’t outwardly ‘girly’ she had an air of peacefulness about her that spilled over into the home she made. Though right then it did nothing to calm my nerves. Liza’s wide-eyed stare didn’t, either.

“Nothing yet,” I lied when it became obvious I was expected to say something. “Hopefully tomorrow.”

Liza nodded, attempted a smile that nowhere reached her eyes, and told me, “There’s a candlelight vigil tomorrow. Ally asked if we’d like to attend. I told her we didn’t want to intrude.”

“But I told Lizzy it wouldn’t be an intrusion and I want both of you there,” Allyson put in.

“Then we’ll be there.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, how about we get out for a wander and some fresh air?” Allyson suggested, then looked at Colleen. “Wanna come? You can show Lizzy the sewing room. I bet she’d love to see some of your designs.”

In a delayed observation, I noted Colleen’s sleeveless, beige dress that would’ve been shapeless if she’d not had a macramé belt tied around her waist. The bottom six or seven inches of the dress was lace, complete with tassels hanging from the hem. Below the hem, she was barefoot. I was positive Colleen’s style was called something like bohemian or some such shit, but I called it classy hippie. No doubt the woman worked it, it just wasn’t something I found attractive, and thank fuck Liza wasn’t into macramé or tassels.

“Sure.” Colleen pushed her slender frame off the stool and stood.

Liza and Allyson followed to their feet, with Liza excusing herself to use the restroom.

“You know,” Colleen started as we waited for Liza to return. “There are three empty houses on the property. They’re one-bedroom cottages. What they lack in space, the amenities make up for. Have you considered talking to Mackenzie about renting one?”

Allyson turned to look at me, and not for the first time I felt for the woman. Her whole life was about to go up in smoke. Friendships were going to be strained. People she cared about deeply were going to be hurt. Their way of life was going to be dismantled and Allyson would have a hand in that. She might even find out that, like Beatrice, some of her friends weren’t who she thought they were.

Yes, this was going to be a blow for Allyson and for the community.

Yet, Allyson bravely held it together and answered, “That’s a great idea. Tucker, what do you think?”

Liza rounded the corner. My gaze went to her and I held it when I returned, “As long as Lizzy’s happy, I’m happy.”

I lost her eyes when they went to the floor, but I didn’t miss the small smile that played at her lips.

Wouldn’t love a woman who⁠—

Craig Monroe’s words hit me again, the malice behind them unfathomable. A poisonous dart he’d implanted in his beautiful daughter. Yet there she was, keeping herself together after the morning she’d had.

Worthy.

Lovable.

Exquisite.

That was my Lizzy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The longer we walked the property the deeper my anger and sadness burrowed in.

Fuck Mackenzie Archer.

She’d built something beautiful, given these women something to believe in, given them space to thrive and find peace, and it was all a lie.

A picturesque lie.

These people had built a utopian society. However, like all societies, one bad apple had rotted the bunch. Her greed and selfishness was going to be their downfall.

The rudimentary map Allyson had drawn of the compound had given us the basics. A gravel road leading from the county road turnoff through thick forest. Mackenzie’s house the red, barn-like structure upon entering. That was where the gravel ended, turning into a well-maintained dirt road. The residences studded the outside of the long loop while six buildings occupied the center. These were the community center-slash-movie room, the meditation and yoga studio, the kitchen-slash-bakery, craft-slash-sewing room, a kickass library, and an art studio.

The library had no computers, just shelves the residents filled full of books they shared among themselves. The craft room had storage bins that lined the walls; some were plastic totes, others looked like they were filing cabinets, most of them had names written on them, some simply said ‘community’. Colleen explained the sewing machines belonged to members but if it was left behind in the room, anyone was free to use it. The building housing the kitchen was the largest of five, with an impressive setup. Industrial ovens, an eight-burner gas stove, stainless-steel workstations. Pots, pans, baking sheets, knives—you name it and it was stocked, ready to be used by all. There were even three large pressure cookers. The area was also spotless—something Allyson said wasn’t a rule as such, but everyone respected each other, therefore they tidied up after themselves and left the area clean after they used it. Respect, meaning there didn’t have to be a rule made about cleanliness.