Sophie opens the entertainment center under the flat-screen TV, but her movements are listless, her shoulders slumped. She pulls out a few DVDs and puts them to the side. She slides in a music CD instead, then lies on the floor, arms behind her head and eyes closed.
The music is soft, romantic. I think of Marcus’s ex-wife, Kathryn, their shared history in this cabin, all the memories they must have made here with their daughter. Did they listen to this CD? Above the fireplace there’s a painting of a couple in a boat, just their backs visible, and I wonder if it might be Marcus and Kathryn, then I shake off the thought. He would’ve taken that down—even if it doesn’t seem as though he’s changed much else. The house is friendly and inviting, but definitely feminine, with a large sprawling couch, overstuffed chair, and ottoman in a floral pattern, and antiques like the mahogany dining room set that separates the living room and kitchen. None of it looks like Marcus’s taste, which is more modern.
On the main floor, there’s a small bathroom down the hall leading to the master bedroom with its own bathroom, a laundry room, and a spare bedroom at the back of the house. Upstairs there are two more bedrooms. Marcus pointed out which one was Katie’s—the door was closed. Sophie picked the other upstairs bedroom because she liked the view of the forest.
Earlier I noticed a framed photo of Katie on the dresser in the master bedroom. It was a shot of her sitting on a beach, which I assumed was on the lake. Her chin rested on her knees as she gazed out at the water. I wanted to ask Marcus when the photo was taken, but I decided to wait. This is hard enough for him, I’m sure.
In the living room knickknacks are spread around like happy little treasures, quaint owls and woodland creatures, a rustic paddle hanging on the wall. I touch the sterling silver shell jewelry box on the side table, run my fingers over the edges. It’s exquisite, shaped like a large clamshell, and obviously an antique. I pick it up and gently open it. In the center a tiny silver pearl is melded to the bottom. The metal is cool under my fingertips. Curious if the shell might be engraved, I turn it over, but the bottom is unmarked except for a small scratch.
He must have left these things so it looked homier when he was renting the house. Or maybe he had someone decorate. I’m not going to ask. I haven’t thought about Kathryn much at all since we’ve been dating—he rarely speaks about her, though I know he checks in with her sometimes to make sure she’s doing okay, especially around holidays. I’ve never felt jealous before, but something about this house makes me feel as though I’m intruding.
The lights flicker. I look up at the ceiling, hold my breath and wait for them to go out, but they stay on. We’ll probably lose power soon, though.
“Do you have any candles?”
Marcus glances up from the fire. “Good idea. Check the drawer by the phone.”
I rummage through the drawer, full of odds and ends, pens, a pack of cards, some twine, a bottle of glue, batteries, and pull out a couple of white candlesticks. I place them in the porcelain candelabra on the kitchen table, light the pillars on the coffee table. The flames weave and dance.
The warm wax smells strongly of vanilla and reminds me of the first time I had dinner over at Greg’s house—he burned the meal and sprayed vanilla everywhere to try to cover it up. I smile at the thought and wonder how he’s doing. I heard a rumor that his brother-in-law got into trouble with bad debts and Greg helped him get back on his feet. Maybe that’s why he was so distracted those last days of our relationship. He never did return my texts. I’m sure he knows I’m dating Marcus now. I wish I could explain everything to him, but what can I say?
It’s only been a couple of months, but it feels like a lifetime ago that my life was upside down and I was talking to the police almost every day. I saw Corporal Parker once at the Muddy Bean. I was picking up coffees for Marcus and me, when she came through the door. I was surprised to see her in a white Windbreaker and black running pants, her hair braided.
We chatted while we waited for our coffees. I told her about Marcus and the lake house. I felt that I was speaking too much, but something in me wanted to let her know that I was okay. When I asked if she had any plans for spring break, she said, “Just working,” and ordered two lattes. I watched as she left the shop and got into a car with a blond woman behind the wheel. I wondered if she was another cop. Then the woman smoothed a strand of hair off Parker’s face. The gesture was tender, affectionate. Parker glanced toward the coffee shop and I spun around, feeling awkward for staring. I guess Parker kept her life private for a reason.
Sophie and I are washing dishes after dinner when the power goes out. She screams and grabs at my arm, then laughs at her overreaction, but it sounds forced.
“You okay, sweetie?”
“Of course.” She turns away and says to Marcus, “Do you have a deck of cards?”