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Back Careful What You Wish For Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. Acknowledgments
  45. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  46. About the Author
  47. About the Book
  48. Reading Group Guide
  49. Read On
  50. Praise for Careful What You Wish For
  51. Also by Hallie Ephron
  52. About the Publisher

Emily said, “Or someone he worked with?”

Mrs. Murphy folded her arms and looked stone-faced ahead. “He was retired.”

“A friend?” Becca tried.

“One of our friends? I doubt that very much.” Mrs. Murphy clamped her lips together and shook her head.

“The fact remains that yesterday,” Becca said, “after we left the unit locked up, someone came along and changed the padlock. And now we can’t get back in.”

Mrs. Murphy didn’t seem to be listening. Her eyes were fixed in front of her on the middle distance. Her gaze turned angry and shifted, pinning Becca. “How do I know this lock business isn’t just a cover for some kind of shenanigan? How do I know Charlie’s things are even still in there? It doesn’t make much sense otherwise, now, does it?” Her chin quivered.

Emily was speechless. No one had ever doubted their integrity. But before she could respond, Becca said calmly, “I can see why you might think that. I agree with you, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I can only assure you that we haven’t taken anything and we haven’t done anything that you didn’t specifically ask us to do. We’re here now because we need to know what you’d like our next steps to be.”

“What do I want you to do now?” Mrs. Murphy swept the map onto the floor. Emily scrambled after it. Mrs. Murphy sat on the edge of the settee kneading one hand over the other as Emily rolled up the map and slipped it into its tube. “He could have explained,” she said. “He’d know what to do next.” She got up and stood facing her husband’s reclining recliner. “But unfortunately I can’t ask him what in the name of God he thought he was up to with this storage unit of his. Why he needed books and maps and whatnot. And why he needed to hide them from me.” She took a tissue and blew her nose. “And why he canceled his doctor’s appointment the day before he died. Said he had indigestion. Indigestion?” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t ask him because one minute he’s here and the next minute he’s gone.” She sank into the recliner, her shoulders hunched, her body deflated. “Oh, Charlie. This can’t be happening. It’s not fair. It’s really not fair. What am I supposed to do now?” She gave Becca a plaintive look. “You tell me, what am I supposed to do now?”

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