Letters from Peaceful Lane (New Americana 3)

Allison nestled against him, but she had the vague sense that something wasn’t right. Suddenly she knew what it was.

“Maybe I don’t want to take it easy,” she said. “I’ve shown you how much help I can be. I’ve had business experience. Keep me on as your manager—even your partner. Let me work with you.”

He frowned, hesitating. “I don’t know about that. I didn’t marry a business partner. I married a wife. Kate never worked outside the home, and she was perfectly happy. I provided for her. She took care of our daughter and our house, she entertained our friends, shared the boat with me . . .” He stared at Allison’s displeased face. “What?”

She rose, turning to face him. “I’m not Kate. And I can’t—I won’t—go back to being your little trophy wife. If you won’t make me a part of your business, then I’ll go out and find a job somewhere else! And that isn’t a threat, Burke. It’s a promise.”

He’d gone cold, whether with shock or with anger, she couldn’t tell. But she wasn’t about to back down. She loved her husband. But she was tired of being nothing more than a useless ornament.

This moment, she sensed, was a turning point in their marriage. But where would they go from here? Allison didn’t know. She only knew that she’d taken a stand, and there could be no turning back.

“I’m going upstairs to change,” she said. “After that I’m going for a walk. If you and Brianna get hungry, there’s leftover Chinese in the fridge.”

She stalked up the stairs. When she came down a few minutes later, dressed in her running clothes, Burke was nowhere in sight. She could hear the TV from the den, broadcasting what sounded like a football game. She knew he liked it when she watched with him. But this wasn’t the time.

Still limping slightly on her twisted ankle, she headed out the back door and down to the path.

CHAPTER 15

Allison lay wide-awake, gazing at the moon through the closed French doors. After a trying day, an hour-long walk, and a stress-filled evening, she was exhausted. But her mind kept replaying the day, over and over, refusing to let her sleep.

Tonight she’d returned from her walk to find Burke still parked in the den with the football game on. Brianna had given her an embarrassingly awkward apology for jumping to conclusions earlier, then ducked out to go to dinner with friends. By the time Brianna returned home, Burke had gone to bed, and Allison had gone to her room.

Restless, she freed her legs from the tangled sheets and swung her feet to the floor. Slipping on her quilted pink satin robe, she opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. A cold night wind rippled the dark waters of the lake and dried a tear on her cheek.

What was she doing in this family? She loved Burke and was growing to love Brianna. But they didn’t really want a woman like her. They wanted a motherly earth goddess who could steer a boat, throw a great party, crack a joke, grill a mess of fish, and still give her husband what he needed in bed.

They wanted a woman like Kate.

Allison’s hands gripped the wrought-iron rail of the balcony. It wasn’t fair. She’d tried so hard. But she couldn’t please everyone—not even the man she loved. She wasn’t Kate and never would be.

Kate.

Tonight, even the name was like a ghostly whisper on the wind.

A chilling gust whipped her hair across her face and lifted the hem of her robe. Seized by sudden resolve, Allison turned back into the bedroom and closed the French doors against the coming storm. Right or wrong, it was time she learned the rest of Kate’s story.

It was time to open the sealed envelope.

Lifting the mattress, she found the packet of letters.

Her fingertips tingled as she held the white, business-size envelope marked For Burke, to be opened after my death.

Was she about to make the biggest mistake of her life?

Just do it! she told herself. But she couldn’t simply rip it open. She would have to steam it open and glue the flap shut when she’d finished reading what was inside, in case Burke, or anyone else, ever found the letters.

Stop dithering! Just do it!

She shoved the envelope into the deep pocket of her robe, went downstairs to the kitchen, and set a kettle of water to heat on the stove. The house was quiet, but in case Burke or Brianna caught her by surprise, she put a packet of chamomile tea and a cup on the counter.

When steam started rising, she held the sealed envelope over the spout of the kettle. Once the flap was loose, she turned off the stove, turned off the light, and carried the envelope back to her bedroom.

Sitting on the bed, she lifted the flap. Inside she found a smaller envelope, blue, and similar to the ones that had held Kate’s other letters. This envelope, too, was sealed.

Allison was preparing for another trip to the kitchen when she turned the envelope over. Her throat jerked tight as she read the single line of Kate’s handwriting.

For the woman who marries my husband