She didn’t just have water in her eyes. It spilled down her cheeks. In rivulets.
Something was happening to her. Something she didn’t understand. Something that scared her to death.
She was crying like a baby, which she hadn’t done even as she’d said her final goodbyes to the only person in the world she’d truly loved.
* * *
COLIN WAS BACK in his hotel room, with a promise to be showered and at the board table with his clients by two that afternoon, when he got Julie’s text.
Chantel’s asleep. She told me about her friend’s murder and was pretty upset. Her phone keeps going off. I assume it’s you texting her. I’ve got this. Let her be.
His baby sister had his lover’s back.
Colin crawled into bed without brushing his teeth and fell immediately to sleep.
* * *
JULIE WOKE CHANTEL up to get her into Colin’s bed. It felt strange, crawling beneath his king-size sheet, laying her head on his pillow. But with his sister right there, pulling the covers up to her chin, she felt completely safe.
She thought about finding a remote to turn on the television mounted to the wall opposite his bed, too, but she was asleep before she did anything more than think.
She didn’t wake up again until morning.
* * *
COMPLETELY DISORIENTED AND out of sorts, Chantel showered in Colin’s bathroom. Her bag was there, waiting for her—Julie obviously had brought it in the night before. She donned a pair of Johnson’s designer jeans and a black silk contoured blouse and slipped into black wedge sandals. Got through the painfully awkward process of putting on makeup. Fluffed the hair she’d covered with a shower cap so she didn’t have to deal with drying it and found her way to the dining room she’d eaten in once before.
Julie was already there, sitting with a cup of coffee and a drawing pad.
“I am so sorry,” Chantel said. “I swear to you, I didn’t have anything to drink before I came here last night...”
Waving a hand in the air, Julie smiled at her. “Don’t,” she said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But...”
“Forget it.” Julie stood as Chantel dropped down to the seat she’d occupied the last time she’d been there, for brunch with Colin and Julie after Saturday’s library meeting. Just three days before?
How could three days seem like more than a lifetime?
“Do you realize that last night was the first time in ten years that a friend leaned on me?” Julie asked. She’d stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and the breakfast room behind it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d leaned on anyone.
Well, yes, she could actually. It had been the night before Jill had been killed. A night she hadn’t thought about in years—maybe since her friend had died. Odd that she’d wiped it out of her memory. It hadn’t been anything earth-shattering—just her lamenting about never finding a man like Max, one who loved her in spite of her job. And about wanting kids of her own...
Jill, being Jill, had hugged her. And told her that she’d have all the kids she wanted. She just had to put the thought out to the universe...
“I have no idea what came over me,” she said now. “I...didn’t even cry at her funeral.” She stared at Julie as though the other woman would have some explanation for Chantel’s bizarre behavior the night before.
She’d cried herself to sleep in Julie’s arms. The memory was embarrassing beyond words.
Disheartening.
Frightening.
And...nice. Which made not one whit of sense to her.
She had to move past it—accept that it happened, learn from it and make certain it never happened again.
“I just... I’m glad it was me you picked to share your grief with,” Julie said and left the room before Chantel could figure out what to do with that.
* * *
COLIN WAS IN meetings when he got the text from Chantel.
I swear to God I had nothing to drink, and I don’t even take aspirin or acetaminophen for headaches. No clue why I fell apart on your sister last night. I hope I didn’t do any damage. She seems fine. Please advise.
Probably one of the oddest texts he’d ever received.
The one from Julie came in while he was reading Chantel’s.
She’s up and at the table. I just left her to get breakfast from the oven. I made my quiche. Ha! Be jealous, you know you love it! She’s uncomfortable, but seems much better this morning. You made a good choice, bro. I approve!
Bro? She hadn’t called him that since she was about...fifteen. Which had been the year their mother died.
Excusing himself from the table, he stepped out into the hall and answered Julie first.
Thanks, Jules. You’re the best. And save some quiche for me. Love you.