When she left Charlie’s an hour later, her stomach stuffed with pizza, her heart was also full. And while she didn’t know what the future held, she knew how she was going to start making it better.
* * *
There was a Realtor’s lockbox on the door and Lizzie leaned back, stretching out the kinks brought on from too much bending over. She’d pretty much managed a miracle in three short days.
Right now Charlie was folding clothing into boxes to be donated to a local homeless shelter. Lizzie had given her that job since it was low on the physical exertion scale and because stepping into her mom and dad’s closets had brought back too many memories. It was the smells, really. Who knew they could last so long, the personal scents that were made up of years of living and loving and simply being in this house?
Lizzie was packing up the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with all the household items, and soon a moving company was coming with a pod so she could store most of the boxes until a later date.
All the hard work had kept her mind off of Josh—well, mostly anyway.
Josh had been more than accommodating when she’d called asking for the time. All she’d had to say was that she’d decided it was time to sell the house and could she have a few days and he’d agreed. He’d even said it was only fair since she’d covered his butt during a family “thing,” so it was no problem. No mention of their night together. No mention of anything at all.
It had almost been too easy. And it occurred to her that lately, when she got the things she wanted, she often wished they hadn’t come so easily. Would Josh miss her when she was away? Or was he giving her space to figure out what she wanted? He probably was. She figured he was that smart.
Too smart for her in all likelihood.
But there wasn’t time to think about it. Thirty minutes later a van from a charity came to collect some of the furniture. After that the pod arrived and Lizzie, along with a few burly men, set about loading it with the boxes she’d packed. In the middle of the chaos, a van from a local women’s shelter showed up to collect the boxes of clothing.
There wasn’t time for Lizzie to linger over items or get caught up in a lot of emotion, which was just how she wanted it. More than once she caught herself with a lump in her throat over simple things she hadn’t thought of in years. Rather than dwell, she’d forced herself to carry on.
By 7:00 p.m. Lizzie and Charlie were tired and the house was very, very empty.
Lizzie leaned on the island in the kitchen and sighed. “It was so busy I didn’t have time to be sentimental.”
“Are you now?” Charlie braced her hands at her back and stretched.
“A little,” Lizzie admitted. “It feels … final.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. About your dad, and your mom … about all of it.”
“I know. But it was the right thing to do. It feels good, even if it hurts.”
Charlie nodded. “We should stop and see your mom tomorrow on the way home.”
“I’d like that.” She felt awkward and sad asking Charlie the next question, but of anyone in the world, she trusted Charlie the most. Especially with the truth.
“If we visit, will you do me a favor, Charlie? Will you watch my mom and give me your honest, medical opinion of her condition? I like to think I’m objective, but I know I’m not. And I’m the one who has to make decisions now. I don’t have my dad taking point anymore.” The burden weighed heavily. “Hell, the power of attorney all falls to me.”
“Of course I will.”
“Thanks.” Relieved, she boosted herself away from the counter. “Let’s get to the hotel. I booked us a nice room for tonight, and we’ll order in room service, and watch a movie on pay-per-view. Like the old days, only a little more upscale.”
“What? No microwave popcorn and dollar movie rentals?”
“Not this time. Lobster, steak … you name it, it’s yours.”
Lizzie locked the door behind her, leaving the porch light on. She wouldn’t think about it anymore. The memories were hers to cherish, along with photographs and mementos. They were not for sale. All that was on the market was concrete and brick and wood and paint and all the other physical trappings of a home.
Not the love. Not the commitment, or the persistence to see it through, for better or for worse.
CHAPTER 16
Charlie woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, so rather than stop to see Rosemary, Lizzie took her straight back to Jewell Cove with strict orders to rest and put her feet up for a few days. Lizzie also made sure Charlie had a bottle of water the whole drive back to Maine, because she suspected Charlie was dehydrated. But the extra fluid meant more bathroom stops, and by the time Lizzie dropped Charlie at home it was two in the afternoon.
Lizzie couldn’t help being concerned. Perhaps the weekend had been too strenuous for her. Charlie certainly wasn’t her usual talkative self, and her smile was a little less bright as she said she thought she’d go inside for a nap.
“I’m sorry if I worked you too hard,” Lizzie apologized.