Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
“Oh, Jerry Lee needed to run some errands. He’s picking me up in two hours, at the end of our official work day.” Chet winked and brushed past her into the house. He sauntered to an antique divan and settled on it, arms open to Violet.
She ignored the offer and sat in a chair a few feet away, no matter how strongly his presence pulled at her. His hair was a little long-ish in a nod to sixties style. He wore a black tee shirt and jeans though it was barely sixty degrees outside. Violet had never seen a man so beautiful, still tanned from summer and all taut muscle from head to toe. She bit her lower lip and saw him grin in response. “I haven’t heard from you in a long time, Chet. How have you been?”
“I guess you didn’t notice me at your husband’s funeral. I sat in the back row. I’m not gonna lie, Violet, I was happy for you to be free of that monster.” He held up her hand to stop any protest. “Don’t think I don’t know how he treated you. Those bruises didn’t come from any Corvette steering wheel, and it probably happened more than once, didn’t it?”
Violet looked at the Persian rug and blinked, willing herself not to cry. She nodded slowly.
“Why,” Chet demanded, “didn’t you come to me? I’d have had you out of here and safe, Vi. You should have told me. You could’ve...”
“Tolly had other ways to punish me, Chet, things you could never have protected me from. And you’re not exactly in a position to take in wayward wives. I’m not going to talk about it any more.” She crossed to the elaborate bar and reached for a highball glass. “Whiskey sour?” Chet nodded and she mixed their drinks. He brushed her fingers and stroked them with his as he reached for the glass. Violet shivered and sat back down, gulping courage and willing her body to stop shaking.
“All right, then. No more about the son of a bitch, may he rest in hell. Look, you may not have seen me, Violet, but don’t think I haven’t kept up with you and how you’re doing. Don’t think,” he flashed white teeth at her, “I didn’t see you sitting outside Dr. Lehman’s office, either.”
“Why didn’t you...”