“Thank you,” she said with the sound of relief. “You too, Mr. Sherman.”
As I disconnected the call, I realigned my thoughts. If a confrontation with Phillip occurred, it wouldn’t end overmydead body.
It would end over his.
Julia
Turning on my phone, I kicked off my boots, wiggling my sock-covered toes in the soft, warm rug near my bed. Much as Van’s phone had done, my phone vibrated and dinged with numerous incoming text messages and voicemails.
I pulled my sweater over my head and pulled off the blue jeans, leaving me covered in my camisole and soft pants as I picked up my phone, sat upon the edge of the bed, and sighed. Lying back, I hit the first voicemail message from my mother. The time stamp was yesterday afternoon.
“Julia, not returning our messages is childish. How can we be comfortable with your decisions when you’re not replying?”
Listening to her dismissive and demeaning tone had the opposite effect of what her words intended. Closing my eyes, I let her message settle over me. As it did, I saw the errors of my ways, not recently, but in the past.
For the entirety of my life, I’d simply accepted my position in the family as the child. Despite my age signifying adulthood, I’d never exerted my independence. I’d never been encouraged to do so. My place was to accept my role as the Wade heir, as Mrs. Skylar Butler, and with taking over ownership of my stock of Wade—in name only.
It was never planned for me to be involved in the future of Wade Pharmaceutical. My father’s recent confession confirmed as much.
Skipping three voicemails from my mother, I hit the screen to listen to the most recent, last night at near midnight.
“We’re here, Julia. Come out of the house.”
I exhaled as my stomach dropped.
My parents had been here at Van’s home.
Are they still here in northern Wisconsin or have they gone home?
The text messages from both of my parents chronicled their flight to Ashland and their research that allowed them to find Van’s address. There wasn’t anything dubious about what they’d done. Donovan Sherman’s address was public record.
Standing, I laid the phone on the bed, deciding to go downstairs and fill Van in on the identity of our visitors before my shower.
As I reached the door to the hallway, I heard the ring of my phone.
Begrudgingly, I turned around. “Fine, Mom. I’ll talk to you,” I spoke to no one, thinking how I hadn’t ignored their messages or calls. I’d been outside of cell coverage. Approaching the bed, I decided not to tell her that. If she thought I was being childish, there wasn’t anything I could say to change her mind.
The name upon the screen wasn’t who I expected and immediately improved my disposition. The last time we’d spoken was when I told her the wedding was off.
Will I tell my friend that I have a new wedding on the horizon?
I answered, “Vicki.”
“I’m worried about you. How are you doing?”
My cheeks rose higher. “I’m sure it sounds odd, but I’m good. I really am.”
“There’s so much I want to talk to you about,” she said. “First, it’s Christmas. I hate that you’re alone.”
“I’m not alone.”
Her volume lowered. “I feel like this is theTwilight Zone. I saw a news bulletin about you and Skylar working out your differences.”
“I promise that’s not true.”
She sighed. “I didn’t think it was. Come back to Chicago. You can stay with me. We both know that your mom can be overbearing. You can hide out in my apartment and not even let your parents know you’re in town. I just want you safe.”
I sat back on the edge of the bed. Vicki knew my family, and she was right; Mom could be overbearing. One of the things I loved about Victoria was that we’d been friends long enough that we knew most things about one another and our families. If life hadn’t taken its most recent crazy turn with Van, I’d welcome her invitation. “I miss you, Vick.”