Love and Other Things (Crystal Lake 4)

It wasn’t most days anymore. In fact this life she led, this new landscape she traversed, was so foreign that the thought of it made her stomach roil again. Bobbi nodded in silence, and grabbed the cold glass, dutifully sipping the water while she watched Marybeth deal with the woman, her shoes, and the mess on the floor.

By the time it was all sorted and Mrs. Adelaide had been escorted up to her room, (not before sending an impressive amount of stink-eye Bobbi’s way) Bobbi felt better and got to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as Marybeth appeared once more. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Sweetie, don’t worry about it. You’re from the north and this kind of heat isn’t for everyone. It’ll take some to get used to, but I’m sure you’ll be fine in no time. And yes, the AC is being a little difficult, but Marshall says he’ll have it up to snuff in no time.”

Bobbi attempted to smile, encouraged by Marybeth’s tone and the way her words rolled so softly underneath her southern charm.

“Now,” Marybeth said, turning to the computer at the desk. “You must be Bobbi Jo Gallagher.”

“I am.”

“Is this your first time in Belle Adair?”

“It is.”

Marybeth smiled as she clicked her way across the keyboard. “I’m always curious to know how folks end up here.” She glanced up. “Has someone you know stayed before?”

Bobbi nodded. “My sister-in-law. About a year or so ago. She recommended this place. She spoke very highly of it and if I remember correctly she mentioned a Miss Callie. She wanted me to say hello.”

Marybeth’s smile widened even more. “That’s my mama. This is her place, actually. I’m just helping out on account she was laid up in the hospital for a few days.”

“Oh, no. I hope she’s okay?”

Marybeth snorted. “My gosh, yes. She’s fine.” Those fingers clicked some more. “More than fine to be honest. Why she cut her leg frogging in the creek out back with Mackie, my grandson, and it got infected and well, she ended up in the hospital. It was a nasty spell. But don’t worry about her. Miss Callie has the kind of backbone that was built to last. She’ll outlive us all. I don’t doubt that one bit.”

Marybeth stepped around the desk. “Do you have more luggage?”

Bobbi had only brought in one bag. “I have big suitcase and a smaller one in the car but I’ll grab them later. I really just want to get to my room.”

“Don’t you worry about that. Give me your keys and I’ll get Marshall to bring them up in a bit. He’s here doing some repairs to the gazebo in the back garden after the mother of all windstorms a few days back, and well, the air conditioning needs his special touch as well.”

Bobbi gave the woman the keys to her rental and followed her up the stairs to a large landing and then up another set of stairs that led to a large loft that had been converted into two rooms. Bobbi’s was on the right.

“Here you go, sugar. When you booked, you indicated you were staying the summer so we gave you our largest accommodation. You have your own bathroom as well, so no sharing with anyone else, and a small kitchenette. Breakfast and luncheon are served in the dining room seven days a week. All the information you’ll need is in the pamphlet. I hope you enjoy the space, it’s my favorite.” She winked. “And don’t worry about Mrs. Adelaide. I put her in the lavender room downstairs and I think she’s only staying a few weeks while she’s visiting her son. With any luck, she won’t bother you about those Adelaide’s from Charleston.”

Bobbi closed the door and leaned against it as she took in the room. It was beautiful. Soft creams and pale green and a ceiling fan that slowly turned, stirring the air a bit. The furniture was antique, the main focus a four-poster bed complete with billowing sheer material that fell around it to the floor. There was a sitting area near a large window, with a table and overstuffed chair, and a few feet away the kitchenette, complete with a small fridge and toaster oven. A tall, beautiful mirror leaned against the wall over by the dresser, as well as a large potted fern. The wood floors gleamed and smelled of lemon, and there were several area rugs strewn about that complimented the décor. A door to her left was open, which led to a good-sized bathroom, with a shower and a large porcelain tub that sported claw feet.

This would be her home for the next while and it was about as perfect as she’d hoped it would be.

Home.

Her chin trembled at the thought, and it took a lot not to cry. She’d cried more tears than she thought possible over the last few months and damned if she was gonna give in to them now.

Swiping at the corners of her eyes she walked over to the bed and parted the sheer curtains, then glanced up and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Pale skin. Dark bruises beneath her overlarge eyes. Hair down past her shoulders, thick and straight and shiny. Lips colored a soft pink.

She was too thin, and the simple pale yellow sun dress was loose where it shouldn’t be. She smoothed her hands over her hips and sighed. She looked better than she should considering the overwhelming sadness that had filled her up for weeks. No, for months now. She lifted her chin and stared at her reflection. Could she find her way back to the woman she used to be? How connected was that person to Shane? Could she live without him?

She grabbed her purse and retrieved her cell phone. She had it to her ear in seconds, and listened to the only saved voicemail she had. As always, his voice nearly broke her, but she wasn’t strong enough to stop listening. At least, not yet.

“Bobbi, where the hell are you? You gotta let me explain. It’s not what you think. Jesus, it’s not even close. I just…we need to fix this. We need to fix us but I can’t do it on my own. I can’t. I love you. I need you. Call me.”

“Oh Shane,” she whispered. “It’s too late.”

Bobbi slammed her eyes shut, but the images of Shane and that woman appeared, taunting her from the shadows of her mind and she tossed her phone in anger. She wouldn’t think about it. She’d come here to forget about everything, not relive the sad end to a marriage that for the most part had been perfect.

Until it wasn’t.