Chapter 3 - The Cold Light of Saturday
Friday passed in an uneasy, suffocating silence. Eric left for work before the sun rose, clearly avoiding eye contact. Melissa spent the afternoon bustling around the upper floors, her phone pressed to her ear as she ordered groceries and arranged for house cleaners.
I stayed in my suite, quietly wrapping my personal porcelain, packing my winter coats, and stacking my three boxes alongside two suitcases. I left nothing behind on the walls. The small watercolor paintings of the Virginia coast, the framed photos of my grandchildren as infants, the brass mirror my mother had left me—everything was carefully wrapped in craft paper.
By Saturday morning at ten o'clock, the lower level was stripped of warmth. It looked like an empty motel room.
I sat in my armchair wearing my traveling coat, my purse in my lap, waiting.
At precisely eleven-fifteen, the sound of tires crunching on gravel echoed outside my private patio window. A charcoal-gray crossover pulled into the side driveway, followed by a mid-sized rented box truck.
A young couple stepped out of the car. The husband was the man from Thursday—tall, dressed in a fleece vest, carrying a clipboard. His wife was young, visibly pregnant, holding a folder of paperwork and smiling at the freshly mulled flowerbeds.
Upstairs, the front door clicked open. Melissa rushed down the exterior brick steps, wearing an elegant cream cardigan and an overly warm, practiced smile.
"Welcome! You must be Greg and Hannah!" Melissa called out, extending her hand. "We are so thrilled to have you. The neighborhood is wonderful, and the suite is completely private."
"Thanks, Melissa," the young man said, shaking her hand warmly. "We brought the remaining cashier’s check for the first month's rent, just like we discussed with Eric. We’re so eager to get unpacked before the baby shower next weekend."
I stood up, smoothed down the front of my wool coat, unlocked my suite door, and stepped out onto the paved path.
Melissa’s smile froze mid-sentence. Her eyes flared with immediate panic. "Diane... what are you doing out here? Your taxi isn't scheduled until noon."
I ignored her completely and walked directly toward the young couple. "Good morning. I'm Diane Carter."
The young woman, Hannah, blinked in surprise. "Oh! Are you... the current tenant? Eric said the previous occupant was an elderly family friend who vacated last weekend to move into an assisted living community."
May you like
The words hung in the crisp morning air like shards of ice.
"Did he?" I said, giving Hannah a gentle, apologetic look. "No, dear. I am Eric’s mother. And I was living in that room until about forty-five minutes ago."
