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Taylor didn’t want to see his expression, but she looked toward him anyway. “She’s an addict. In my experience, they’ll do anything to get money for another hit. That includes stealing from their families and sometimes worse.” For the umpteenth time, she wished she could hunt down the person who’d first got Eliza hooked and kick his butt. “And I pretty sure she’s done it before. Before my dad passed away, someone broke into my parents’ house. Considering the things that were left behind, the only person it could’ve been was my sister. The police didn’t get any useable fingerprints, so I can’t be one-hundred percent certain.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice contained only sympathy. Before she could speak, he pressed his lips against hers. When he pulled away she saw compassion in his eyes, and nothing else. “How did Reese handle it? It was more or less her first time meeting her mom, right?”
He returned to massaging her neck, and at least one of her concerns slipped away. The additional information about her sister didn’t seem to bother him. “Remarkably well.”
Taylor wondered if she should contact the school’s psychologist and inform her of this weekend’s events. She’d know better if Reese’s reaction had been a normal one or something to be worried about. “Reese recognized Eliza right away. Mom still has her senior class picture in her bedroom next to mine. Eliza looks a lot older, but we still resemble each other.”
Taylor thought back over Reese’s behavior. Eliza hadn’t stayed long, and soon after she left Reese and Mom got to work on dessert. Just in case either of them needed her she’d hung around the kitchen, but Reese never mentioned Eliza. She’d acted like the whole visit never happened.
“Reese never called her ‘Mom.’ When she saw Eliza, she said, “You’re Auntie’s sister.” And then she went up to her bedroom. She showed no interest in Eliza at all. Do you think that’s weird? I mean, she is her mom, and Reese knows it.”
She felt the slight movement when he shrugged. “Maybe not. To Reese she’s some random person who stopped by. There’s no way she could have any memories of her. And you said Eliza’s never contacted Reese. What does Priscilla think?”
“She’s not sure either. We didn’t talk much about it after Eliza left, but I know the visit bothered her a lot.”
“Yeah, I noticed she didn’t seem herself tonight. She barely said anything.”
“I think she suspects Eliza came by for the same reason I do. She just doesn’t want to say it.” She hated they were spending their time together talking about family issues. At the same time, she appreciated Curt’s willingness to listen, and his unbiased opinion.
“Understandable. It’s her daughter. How’d you leave things with your sister?”
“Mom told her to call once in a while, and I asked her not to come back.”
Curt chuckled. “You asked her? I’m not buying it. You might have worded it as a request, but your tone would’ve said something else.”
He had her. “Either way, I can’t shake this feeling she’ll be back.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
Some things in life you had no control over. Taylor knew this was one of them. “Maybe keep an eye out for any people or cars that don’t belong around here
. Other than that, I don’t think there’s anything either of us can do right now.”
Chapter Eleven
Curt estimated he had a minimum of five hours. He’d never known Taylor to get home before five or after midnight. He hoped this Monday didn’t prove to be any different. Even five more hours of pounding nails in the kitchen while at the same time mentally pounding his head into the wall, was almost more than he could handle.
He didn’t know which bothered him more about the situation: The fact he still didn’t know how to begin, or that he didn’t know what her reaction would be once he did. When he asked her to come over right after work, she hadn’t questioned his request. He suspected thoughts of her sister kept her too occupied to give his question any real thought. He’d been okay with that. Saturday night hadn’t been the time to tell her the truth anyway. Eliza’s visit had caused her enough stress and unease. Blurting out that he’d kept secrets from her would’ve caused more. Tonight might not be the best time to tell her either. She’d appeared more at ease when he walked her home, but who knew what emotions might be lingering today.
A nice long sit-down conversation later in the week might serve him better than one tonight. Curt considered it. Maybe he should gauge her emotions when she got here. If it appeared she’d had a stressful workday, he’d hold off. Tell her he’d asked her over just because he wanted to spend time with her. On the other hand, if she seemed relaxed, or at least relaxed for a Monday, he’d tell her everything. And hope she doesn’t tell me to go to hell.
“I deserve it if she does.” Curt wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he swung the hammer, intending to drive another nail into the trim around the window. He missed.
“Fuck!”
Pain exploded in his thumb, and he shook his hand. First, he couldn’t get rid of his writer’s block, and now he was injuring himself. The hammer mishap wasn’t the first time he’d hurt himself today. If he didn’t get his head on straight soon, he ran the risk of either killing his writing career or himself. Neither were palatable options.
Screw it. Regardless of anything else, he’d sit her down and tell her the truth when she got here. And he’d start by first telling her he was sorry. He’d make sure to admit he’d been wrong, too, at some point during the conversation. In his experience, women liked when men admitted they’d been wrong.
Before his thumb blew up to the size of a tennis ball, he got an ice pack and called it a day. The risk of doing some permanent damage was too great. The kitchen would still be there tomorrow. Instead, he’d leave the ice on for bit and then play a video game. One of those didn’t require much brain activity, just eyes and hands.
The sound of a car door closing reached him as he crossed the foyer. Although he had a good idea of the time already, he checked his watch. A little after noon. Way too early to be Taylor. Priscilla maybe? Did she need some kind of help? Had Eliza returned?
Curt pulled open the door and found Trent standing there, his index finger hovering over the doorbell.
“Still getting ready for your audition on Left in The Wild, I see,” Trent said, in lieu of a proper greeting.
Skip the video games. Talking to his cousin didn’t require much brain activity either. “What are you doing here?” He’d given his cousin his new address but assumed he would call before visiting, not show up on a random Monday afternoon.
