Page 19 of The Life She Had

Daisy

I forgotto set my alarm last night, and when I wake, it’s dark enough that I’m ready to return to sleep before I make the mistake of checking my watch. It’s after nine. I groan and lift my head to peer at the gray beyond the windows. It’s still raining, and that sound wipes away any chance of sleep as it reminds me that I need to use the bathroom urgently now.

With another groan, I roll off the lounger. Concrete damp and chill beneath my toes, I stagger to the door and find a note taped to it.

Daisy,

Good morning! Please come in and help yourself to coffee. I had to go to Tampa for business, but I’ll be back after lunch. I can clear a path for you in the attic then if you’re still okay with fixing the leak.

Celeste

I grab the doorknob and turn—

Nothing happens.

I try again. It’s locked.

I spend far too much time jangling the knob, certain I’m mistaken. The note very clearly says “Come in.” What kind of passive-aggressive bullshit—

I squeeze my eyes shut. She made a mistake. That’s all. She’s a woman living alone in the countryside. Locking doors has become habit.

The fact that the note says “Come in” means I’m welcome to find a way in. An open window is a pipe dream. It’s Florida, and it’s raining. When I was a kid, Dad always threw open the windows in this weather, and we’d sit in the sauna-heat, drinking lemonade and watching hurricane winds flatten the grass as Dad regaled me with some adventure from his youth... until Mom got home and gave him hell for the windows and didn’t he know what that humidity did to her hair? He’d close them without a word of complaint, just a wink to me, that wink saying there would be other hurricanes, other storms to enjoy. There were... and then, suddenly, there weren’t.

Celeste isn’t me, though, or my dad. She’d have taken my mom’s side in that argument. No open windows, then.

As I look around, I spot a single plant by the door. One thing I’ve always loved about lanais is the greenhouse feel of them, often stuffed to overflowing with tropical plants. This one holds only a single pot, and the fern inside is holding on by sheer obstinacy. As someone who does a lot of home renovations, though, that lone plant screams a message.

Just go ahead and let yourself in. There’s a spare key.

Under a decorated rock.

Beneath a single paving stone.

In a lone planter.

I lift the pot from its chipped dinner-plate base and... Nothing.

Just as disappointment surges, there’s a sharp clink as a key drops from the planter bottom onto the plate. I chuckle under my breath.

I unlock the door and return the key to its spot. I will presume that Celeste locked the door by accident. If not, well, her note did say to come in, and apparently, the door wasn’t quite shut because it swung open for me. Really.

I slip inside and call, “Celeste?”

Silence. From the lanai, I could see that Liam’s Rover was gone, but now I check for Celeste’s little Toyota. Also gone. I exhale and head to the kitchen. There’s coffee in the pot, and I pour a cup and reheat it in the microwave as I survey my breakfast options.

The note said coffee.

It did not mention breakfast.

A twinge of irritation at that, doused as I remind myself that I need to get my back down if I’m going to pull this off. I will presume that she did not intend to lock the door and that by coffee, she meant breakfast. To be polite, I will only fix myself toast. And I’ll wash the dishes she and Liam left, which should adequately compensate her for two slices of toast and a spoonful of peanut butter.

Breakfast devoured and dishes washed, I pour one last cup of coffee before cleaning the pot. Then I head upstairs for a shower. Yep, the note said nothing about availing myself of the house’s amenities, but washing off the stink of that shed is in everyone’s best interests. I bathe, and afterwards I clean the shower and take all the towels to the laundry. Again, this seems adequate payment for some hot water and shampoo.

Once the washer is running, I stand in the living room, gazing up the stairs.

You aren’t actually debating your next move, are you?

This is an opportunity I never imagined. If I saw myself in this house, with access to everything within, I’d have envisioned I got there by breaking in.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com