Once Upon a Marriage

“Yeah,” Marie said, nodding toward the cup. “You want another?”

“Yes, please.” The woman handed Marie the cup. “My neighbor’s daughter’s friend goes to that school,” the woman continued while Marie filled and added and mixed, almost unaware of what she was doing. “I sure hope the kids are all okay.” Worry lines marked her face.

Marie nodded again. There’d been no further updates. No live coverage. Just a recap of what they’d already seen and heard. One of which included Elliott.

She put a lid on the latte. Passed it back to the woman. Gave her the credit card receipt when the register spit it out. She had to get out of there. Get...

The knot in her stomach tightened to painful intensity when she turned to see Edith Larkin coming into the shop through the back hallway. She was looking straight at Marie.

God, don’t let it be Elliott.

Were they watching another station upstairs? One with more coverage?

“Gordon is sitting at my kitchen table,” the woman said. “I was at Grace’s, watching the news, and went downstairs to get us some tea—Grace is out, bless her—and Gordon is just sitting there. He won’t leave.”

The man was ninety. A widower. And half senile. They’d inherited him when they bought the Arapahoe three months before. But Marie and Gabi, as residents, had known the man for ten years. And while he, technically, should probably have been placed in assisted care years before, the residents collectively cared for him.

All except Edith. Whose apartment he seemed to help himself to most often.

“I’ll get him,” Marie said to the other woman. “You go on up to Grace’s if you’d like...”

“No...no, I’ll just come with you.” Edith, her cheeks more pinched than usual, shuffled her feet. She waited while Marie told Eva where she was going and then, without a word, rode up to the fifth floor with her.

Marie, thankful that Gordon was only sitting at Edith’s table and not relieving himself in her bathroom as he’d done a time or two in the past, wondered why, if the fidgety woman was so bothered by Gordon, she didn’t simply keep her door locked. As had been suggested every single time she had to deal with Gordon’s uninvited presence in her home.

She wondered, too, why Gordon always chose Edith’s place to get lost to.

And knew that there were just some things that weren’t meant for her to understand.

Like why a gunman would choose to wreak terror on innocent children.

And why Elliott’s presence at the scene was stopping her in her tracks.

“It’s over!” Grace said, meeting them at the door of the elevator on the fifth floor. Her voice might have lost some of its even tenor over the eighty years of her life, but it still rang with purpose.

“Gordon’s back home?” Edith asked, sounding more surprised than pleased.

“Yes, I came looking for you when you didn’t come back up immediately, and I found him in your kitchen. He’s taking a nap now. In his own bed. And if you don’t want him in your house, then lock your doors, woman.” She glared at Edith. “You don’t need to go bothering the kids over Gordon. I told you that already. They’ve got enough to do with their jobs and running this place. They saved our lives, and we don’t need to thank them by filling theirs with nonsense we can handle ourselves.”

With that Grace turned to Marie. “The gunman is in custody.”

Sweet relief made her weak. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The kiddos are terrified, of course, and their parents, too, but everyone is safe.”

Uniformed personnel had been all over the scene she’d been watching on television. They’d done their job well.

“And no shots were fired?”

“Nope.”

It was over. She could relax.

Feeling as though she needed a good cry, Marie excused herself back to work.

* * *

“DID YOU TALK to Marie?” Gabrielle fired the question at Elliott before she’d closed the passenger door of his SUV behind herself. His gut clenched.