What the hell am I even going to ask him?
She chewed on her thumb nail, ruining a perfectly good manicure to the tune of Peabo Bryson’s, ‘Feel the Fire.’ An oldies station was the only one that came in halfway clearly as she’d made the long drive, only stopping for gas, water, a couple of sandwiches, and to relieve herself, and even it was prone to static. As she sat there stewing in her thoughts, she grabbed her phone and texted Jack:
She smiled as she read his pet name for her. After a few deep breaths, she slipped her phone in her purse and drove the thirty seconds to the house, parking in the driveway. She got out, locked the car door, took another deep breath, then made her way to the porch, one step at a time, reaching the big red door. She rang the doorbell. After a few grueling moments, a middle-aged White woman, with platinum blond, bouncy curls that came to her shoulders, opened it, and looked up at her. Her eyes were ice blue, her skin pale as snow, and she donned a white and pink cardigan sweater, paired with white pants and pink slides.
“Oh my, you must be Kim!”
“Yes, I’m Kim. Hi, how are you?”
“I’m doing great! Come on in, honey!” The woman was full of exuberance, excitement, and energy as she closed the door behind them, then got on her tippy toes and gave Kim a big, warm hug. “I’m Linda, Walt’s wife.”
“Hello, Linda. It’s nice to meet you.”
The big, gorgeous house smelled of baked chicken and cozy goodness. Kim stood there while the woman fussed over her, taking her coat, hanging it up, and rambling on about a rainstorm in Utah that her daughter had been caught up in.
“Oh… that’s too bad. I hope she’s okay,” Kim offered, her head in a daze.
The woman waved her hand nonchalantly. “Oh, she’s fine. Just an inconvenience. Walt! Waaaalt! Kimberly is here!”
“I’m coming, Linda,” a man hollered back.
“Step right in here with me, relax, and have a seat.” The woman took her by the hand and led her into a room full of curio cabinets that were jam-packed with shiny objects in a neat, semi-organized sort of way. Ceramic and glass figurines of ballet dancers and animals seemed to be the main theme. There was an old-fashioned gorgeous desk in one corner with a Tiffany style banker’s lamp and several interesting tapestries, but a roaring fireplace with an impressive gold and white mantel stole the show. It was at the center of attention, decorated with a couple of glass candle holders, a Bible, and a bowl of potpourri.
A large crucifix hung above the mantelpiece. The furniture was all cream colored, with muted floral prints—old-fashioned, but well made. A blue and white tea set with an Asian flare sat on the round, wooden coffee table, framed by two stacks of hardbound books in neutral tones with titles that were hard to read due to an aged appearance. They were probably there for decoration, rather than actual reading material. One wall was adorned with framed evidence of college degrees, sports accomplishments, religious certifications, and other achievements, but one in particular stuck out to her: an insignia on a plaque with Walt’s name, perhaps military in nature, but she couldn’t make out the words.
Kim sat down on the loveseat and crossed her legs, while the lady with the big, fluffy hair sat across from her.
“Honey, I heard what happened.”
“You did?” Her brow rose. Oh no. News of Angelique’s baby-nabbing ways spread all the way to Anchorage? That doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone be interested in that way out here?
“Yes. Walt knew your father’s family, the Miltons, when he stayed in New York. Word got back to him that poor Mathew had a boating mishap. Walt said, ‘Hey, that’s my ex-wife’s husband.’ I’m so sorry for your loss, dear.”
Oh. That makes sense. “Yes… thank you.” He knew Matt, too? Wow…
“Would you like some tea?”
The lady pointed to the setup before them.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Linda rose from her seat and began pouring the tea into three cups. As she did so, Kim heard footsteps behind her, as if someone were descending the staircase. Linda handed her a cup. The liquid smelled like cinnamon and orange. Divine.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she said, sitting back down.
As soon as she turned to see who she presumed was Walt entering the room, a fleecy light gray cat skittered by, meowing as if it were perturbed, then dashed right back out of the room, causing her and Linda to laugh.
“That’s Pickles,” Walt said with a smile as he rounded the couch, coming from the opposite direction. “She’s always grumpy. Kim, thank you for coming. It’s so nice to meet you.”
She got to her feet and he also gave her a big, warm hug.