UNINVITED

Chapter 11

     I blinked hard.

     “Elodie?” Amy called out. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”

     I sighed. The man wasn’t Tom. Just someone who looked like him. If I die, it would be out of shock. I looked at Amy, her face plastered with concern. “Yes. I’m fine.”

     “No. You’re lying,” she blurted and threw a glance at the man I thought was Tom. He was speaking into his phone and laughing.

     My pulse quickened. Amy just told me right to my face I was lying. Was it obvious?

     “Do you recognize him from somewhere?” she asked, her voice breaking.

     I was worrying her. I had to snap out of it. There was no point in lying. She already knew. “I thought I did.” I opened the door. “Never mind. I think I need some rest.”

     “Yeah. You really do. You look like shit.”

     I stifled a giggle. The sound of shit on her lips sounded awkward to me. The colloquial didn’t suit her voice. She looked like she was well-bred, someone who hadn’t been hit by hard life. I might be wrong though.

     “C’mon.” I glanced at her porcelain skin with no scars. “You don’t wanna get sunburns.”

     She just smiled. Alec opened the door and she stepped in, then he followed.

     I slipped into the driver’s seat and fastened the seat belt. Tom’s message ringing in my head, I pulled out and hit the road.

* * *

     I pulled up into the gravel driveway. As Amy leaned toward my armrest, my eyes widened. The purplish marks on her neck that reflected in the rearview almost looked like what Tom had inflicted on me a few days ago, although mine were still fresh. If those bruises were there, then she’d been strangled hard recently. This couldn’t be. Maybe she fell and hit her neck. But I knew those weren’t accident bruises. They were inflicted, but by whom? Then Alec’s handsome face appeared in the mirror as he went for the door.

     I made assumptions, and they were unbelievable.

     “Thanks for the ride,” Amy chirped, following Alec.

     Gulping, I said, “Don’t mention.”

     They stood by the side window, hands around each other as they waved to me. I waved to them.

     “Today at six. Don’t be late,” Amy said.

     I almost forgot I had agreed to her invitation yesterday. “Got that. I won’t.”

     “See you later, Elodie,” Alec added.

     “Later,” I whispered and watched as they ambled to the porch, laughing.

     The Bergers were an interesting couple. Now I knew each one of them was hiding a secret, and they’d been lying to me as I had been lying to them. Just who was playing who? And to what end?

     I had to stop lying to them. I didn’t enjoy doing that. The only way to stop lying was to stay away from them. After this dinner, I’d do just that.

     Stepping on the accelerator, I veered my car onto the road leading to the farmhouse and stopped when I reached the driveway. I slipped out of the seat belt, grabbed my phone, and went into the house.

     Clara danced around me as I slipped out of the jogging suits. I crouched down and patted her head. “You must be starving.”

     She sniffed my hand, licking my fingers.
 
     “I’ll be right back.”

     I hurried off into the bathroom, took a cold shower, and came out minutes later. I jumped into a pair of leather jeans, topping it with an ivory blouse. I studied myself in the mirror. There. I looked casual. Nothing elegant.

      Turning away, I ambled to Clara and scooped her into my arms, picking up my phone from the nightstand. After I served Clara breakfast, I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay and sipped. My fingers trembled around the glass and it slipped out of hand when my phone vibrated. It smashed into pieces, shards scattering across the floor.

     Shit, I muttered, glancing at my phone screen. My lips curved into a smile as I saw the name. Quickly I answered and said, “Hello, James. I’m so glad you called back.”

     “Elodie,” he said in a manly but sweet voice. “I’m sorry about my wife. She told me she put my lover in her place.”

     I had almost forgotten about the assault his wife launched on me today. “She thinks you’re cheating?” Which was absurd. James was the most decent man I had ever known. He wouldn’t even come to prom night because he wanted to avoid the girls.

     “Yes. She has a very wild imagination. She saw me with our neighbor two nights ago and told her to stay away from me.”

     Pathological jealousy. I had read about this mental disorder from a recent novel I didn’t want to remember for so many good reasons.

     “Don’t you think she should seek help?” My voice was tactful. Clearly, James’ wife needed help. The fictitious character from the novel I read recently ended up in prison for murdering his wife because he thought she was cheating on him. A sad ending. Probably the reason I didn’t want to remember.

     “She won’t see a shrink. She told me she isn’t crazy.”

     “Most people who go to see therapists aren’t crazy, you know,” I said, resisting the urge to add that I had seen a therapist for domestic abuse, and I wasn’t crazy.

     “It won’t make any difference. We should talk about us. Do you still want to catch up?”

     Hmmm... I didn’t want James’ wife to strangle me when she saw us together. “I’d love to but—”

     “Great, Elodie. Tomorrow night at seven. I’ll text you the place.”

     I stood still. James wasn’t bothered his wife might get upset when he found out he went out with me. But then I reasoned he wasn’t cheating, and his wife was imagining things. He was the type of guy who wouldn’t let something that didn’t exist ruin his quality time. Great. Maybe I should have married him instead of Tom.

     “All right, James. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

     “Sure, bye.” I hung up and set the phone on the counter. I went for the broom and then collected the shards, depositing them into the bin.

     Sighing, I walked back to the counter and picked up my phone. I placed a call to Shelby. It went straight to voicemail.

     Hi, this is Shelby. I’m not available at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

     Was Shelby all right? Had Tom hurt her? Tom was unpredictable. Maybe Shelby hadn’t corporated and he was pissed. He grabbed her neck like he’d done to me and pressed his hands against them, choking her. I could almost picture it in my head. Shelby struggled to cringe. But that was unlikely. Tom wouldn’t dare touch her in my boutique for many reasons. He didn’t hurt strangers physically. Somehow he enjoyed hurting only me. And two, there were cameras all around. He wouldn’t be that stupid to leave evidence for the police. I left a voicemail.

     Hi, Shelby. My husband was at the boutique this morning, I’m certain. I hope you’re fine. Please call me as soon as you get this message.

     I could hear my voice ringing in my ear. If something happened to Shelby, it’d be my fault. I should’ve left a note, or at least said goodbye properly. It wasn’t too late though. I could phone Tom and tell him I wanted out of the marriage—and that I was sick and tired of him and his Mom. But I wouldn’t. He’d be enraged if I told him about the divorce. Who knew what he would do? Kill me probably. The more reason I shouldn’t be physically close to him and be using my phone right now. He might be tracking my location. I’d have to go to town again and get the burner. The sooner, the better.

     I hadn’t pressed the power button when the phone rang in my hand. The name on the screen was the last person on earth I expected to call me. In caps were: TOM’S MOM. Here comes trouble, I sighed.