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“Spoken like a true contractor,” she teases. “You always were a sucker for the finer details.”
This is the truth and one of the reasons why it took me so long to redesign my home. “When did you redecorate?”
She scrunches her eyebrows and counts down on her fingers. “I’m guessing four years ago. Mom and I were walking through a home design store, and I ran across that set of pillows.” She points to the oversized pillows on her sofa with nautical designs. “They were the inspiration, and we knew right away this place could use a facelift. It took three months of shopping, comparing notes, and finally, it all came together. I drove down for a week, and we worked hard, but the end result was exactly as we pictured it.”
“The two of you did it alone?”
“Not really. Stephanie came with me. Dad and Evin were hands-on, too. Dad had the cabinets painted, the new fixtures in place, and new counters installed before I got here.”
“What about the double crown molding and the light fixtures.”
“Boy, you don’t miss anything.”
“I built this place originally. I remember everything.”
“Yeah, that was all us. Like I said, we worked hard.”
It scalds inside, knowing I could have had a crew over here and finished in less than two days, but I keep it to myself. It’s another reminder of how the Grahams distanced themselves.
“Evin teased it could no longer be named the shed, considering we made it into a coastal chic paradise, but I’ve never wanted to change the name.”
“It is the nicest shed I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks, I enjoy it.”
I take a long drag of my beer and push forward. “Do you think you’ll decorate your new place in the same way?”
Her eyes widen, her skin pales, and the look on her face confirms what I feared.
“No, I don’t think so,” she whispers, setting her fork down.
“When are you leaving?”
“How did you know?”
“I had my suspicions, but no confirmation until this moment.”
“Suspicions?”
“Small details that, alone, would raise questions, but once put together, they are glowing signs. You’ve got boxes stacked in your closet labeled personal items that you have yet to unpack. Today, in your bakery, I grabbed cookie sheets from a Rubbermaid storage bin when you have shelves lining your walls for all your supplies. I noticed Runner’s tags on his collar don’t reflect an address, only your phone number, and today, a request came across my desk that Mr. Baldwin is looking for bids to do renovations on the building you are leasing. The project notes don’t include a bakery expansion.”
“I guess your ability to seek the finer details isn’t restricted to construction.”
“Full disclosure, I also called Stephanie this morning.”
This time, her eyes bulge, and panic washes over her features.
“She wouldn’t tell me anything. Her loyalty to you is strong, which ironically gives me peace of mind that you have someone like her in your life.”
“She’s the best, but why did you call her?”
“I had my reasons. You know she gave me her card, told me I’d need her when the truth came out. She was right. I needed her, but unfortunately, we didn’t get far.”
She nods, not surprised. “I haven’t had a chance to tell her what happened between us. We were supposed to talk tonight.”
“I think I gave her the run-down, and she knows where I stand.”
“I’m sure she loved that,” she replies sadly.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You’re planning to leave?”
She nods again, and this time, a slice of pain slashes through my sides. Nothing could have prepared me for what she says next.
“Let me start at the beginning…”
For the next half-hour, I listen intently, hanging on to every word about how Darby created her business in Charlotte, built her clientele, and proceeded to impress the right people along the way. She stays on the topic of her business, but I pick up on the holes in the story where she pushed herself harder around the times my kids were born. When she gets to the event last November that led her straight into the direction of Brasher Resorts, my body tenses, knowing this is what Stephanie couldn’t tell me about.
Darby talks about the job opportunity with as much enthusiasm as if she was talking about the weather, showing no emotion. The only time her voice hitches is when she mentions relocating across the country. That pain spreads through my body, intensifying so deep, my vision goes cloudy.
“Aspen?”
“Aspen,” she confirms.
“When did you sign the contract?”
She fidgets, avoiding my question, and I’m forced to sit still, waiting her out. Finally, she admits, “Tuesday evening, I gave my commitment to Stephanie. Wednesday, I spent the day with Evin, going over financials and actually signing the contract with a notary and witness.”
The weight of her answer pounds into my head, and I drop my chin to my chest, fighting for air. Tuesday night… The night she saw us at Rosen’s. The first time she saw me with my kids… Miller’s hateful words thrown at her… Connie… then her showing up at my place. The vulgar things I said in my kitchen. The way she ran, not returning home and going straight to Evin yesterday morning.
