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A misty forest, deep green shadows with dappled light turning a path to shades of gold. And to the right of the path, a stream where water seemed to rush and tumble over rocks in quick falls that went from white to silver.
She’d wanted to know where the path went, and when she’d asked, he told her:Wherever you want.
“Maybe I’m on the path now, and I’ll find out.”
Knowing her mother, she started back toward the kitchen, calling out.
“Sonya? What a nice surprise.”
She’d changed out of her work clothes into cozy sweats and sneakers, and greeted her daughter with a quick hug. “I was just thinking about what’s for dinner. Have you eaten?”
“No. I came straight from work.”
“Now I have an excuse to get the too-much-soup I made last weekend out of the freezer. Chicken veg, how about it?”
“Sounds great.”
“Why don’t you get a bottle of white wine out of the cooler. We’ll have a glass while I defrost the soup.”
“Sounds even better.”
“Then you can tell me what you need to talk to me about.”
Sonya got a bottle from the under-counter cooler—one of the additions when her mother had had the kitchen updated.
The only real change Winter had made to the house since her husband died.
“I can’t just drop by to see my mom?”
“You can, and sometimes do. But”—Winter tapped a finger on Sonya’s nose—“I know that face.”
Working up to it, Sonya got out a corkscrew, the glasses.
“You know I’ve had some trouble at work. For the most part, I could ignore it, and for the most part, the people I work with aren’t idiots. But it really hasn’t let up. Again for the most part, little things. Little digs.”
“He turned out to be a very ugly man inside, didn’t he?”
“He’s so good at it.” With a half laugh, she poured the wine. “So smooth, always careful to be absolutely courteous to my face, and oh so professional. But…”
She took a sip, leaned back on the center island.
“Relentless, at the same time, just relentless. It’s a matter of him paying me back, over and over, for what he sees as me embarrassing him.And yesterday when I came into work, a project I’d just finished was gone. Wiped off my computer.”
“That’s not relentless, it’s vicious.”
“More, my backup was corrupted. I still had my physical mood board—that would’ve been too blatant. But my initial sketches, gone, too. I had to reconstruct, basically from memory. I worked until midnight.”
“No wonder you look tired. He’s an absolute bastard. You know he did this.”
“I know he did this, but I can’t prove he did this. Any more than I can prove he let out the air in my tires—all four of them—while I was putting in the overtime.”
“Good God, Sonya! That’s criminal! Did you call the police?”
“I called an Uber, and yes, I did report it. But that’s not going anywhere, Mom. I should’ve given him back the ring instead of selling it and donating the money. He might’ve let this go if I’d done that. But I wanted to rub his face in it, so…”
“You’re not to blame for this. I don’t want to hear you taking any of the blame for any of this.”
“Not blame, but maybe a miscalculation. And, oh God, don’t be disappointed in me.”
