Beach Rental(97)
Maia said, “Luke, I saw your car parked up on the road. Is something wrong with Juli? I was supposed to meet her here, but she’s not in her house.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
What had he said? The day when Maia came up the stairs and interrupted Frankie? She’d been so wrapped up in her own distress she hadn’t really listened to what Frankie was saying.
Why was she thinking about this now? It had been more than a month since that conversation.
Juli stood in the parking lot of the grocery store holding the paper bag. She’d picked up some salad and rice to go with the fish filet she was cooking for herself and Maia that evening. But it wasn’t cooking or fish that teased her. A few cars drove past as she waited for the memory to resurface.
He’d said something about ‘you have something of mine,’ but that was ridiculous. She’d never taken or borrowed anything from Frankie, had only asked for rides here and there.
Why was it in her head now?
She paused again beside the car. Another memory stirred. She and Ben had been here before. Many times. Why should it trouble her?
“Are you okay?”
A man and woman had stopped, concerned, on their way past. She smiled to reassure them. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Time to move on. She fumbled the keys and they dropped to the pavement. She set her purse and bag on the trunk so she could retrieve her keys.
“Here, let me get those for you.”
This time, it was a teenage boy.
“Thanks a lot.” She accepted the keys from him. Pregnancy made life interesting and people certainly tended to be more helpful. They moved on more quickly, too, as if they risked being called upon to assist in the delivery if they lingered.
She picked up her purse and the grocery bag began to slide from the trunk.
The trunk.
Ben had opened the trunk and she’d seen her backpack.
What had she done with the backpack? She remembered taking it into the house and dumping it somewhere. Nothing in there she wanted. Certainly not the broken shoes. What a memory it was—the night she’d met Ben and had seen Luke for the first time. Luke had seen Frankie in the coatroom acting suspiciously, and had seen her, too, when she went to retrieve the backpack.
She tried to shake the reverie. Mooning around in a parking lot must be a side effect of pregnancy. Hormones. Hormones got blamed for everything.
She eased herself into the driver’s seat and started the car. She let it idle for a moment longer while she adjusted the seatbelt. Everything took extra effort now. Getting up and getting down. Everything but staying seated.
By the time she returned home, she decided if Frankie believed she had something of his, it would have to be in her backpack. It was the only thing she owned that he could’ve gotten his hands on. He might’ve put something in there intending to retrieve it later.
She saw Maia’s car in the driveway and she felt the warmth of a flush race up her chest and face. She breathed slowly to contain it.
Juli hated the sneakiness, the need to hide…whatever.
She hoped against hope that when she looked in the backpack there’d be nothing but old shoes and a pilled sweater. If there was more, she’d like to resolve it with no one the wiser, including Maia. She had a new life now. She wanted to keep it free of past stain.
Maia would be waiting inside or perhaps on the front porch because the day was mild and sunny.
Instead of tackling the steeper stairs on the side, Juli walked under the house and came out in the front, at the base of the stairs leading up to the crossover. As she ascended the steps she was all set to say hello, but Maia wasn’t sitting in the rocker. No Pat either.
Key in hand, Juli checked the knob. Unlocked. Maia tended to overlook the importance of locks. Maia was inside, then, probably in the bathroom or maybe in the nursery admiring her paint job again. Juli entered.
“Maia?”
No answer. She locked the front door, but not the slide bolts. If Maia was outside, she could use her key or ring the doorbell. Juli put her purse and the grocery bag on the counter and went upstairs.
Maia wasn’t in the nursery. That was good. She could check the backpack right away. She went into her bedroom and opened the closet.
The challenge of dropping to her knees was not insurmountable at seven months, but the movement was clumsy and awkward. Holding to the end of the dresser, she lowered herself to the floor.
A sweater had fallen from its hanger and a jumble of shoes littered the closet floor. She reached past, grabbed the backpack and pulled it out with a loud whew.
Juli unzipped the largest compartment zipper. It smelled stale inside. She saw the black pumps and the old sweater she carried for chilly nights when she worked late. Beneath the sweater lay the detached heel and the servers cap. Not much there.