Everything We Keep

~ Part Nine ~

Nadia and Kristen were inside my house when I arrived home after leaving the restaurant. Kristen rushed over.

“We used your spare key. Your mom called, said you could use some company.”

She paused and took a breath.

“She told us about The Goat. I’m so sorry.”

I nodded, tight-lipped, and tossed my keys and purse on the sideboard. She eyed me cautiously.

“Are you going to be OK?”

I shrugged. After leaving The Goat, I’ve driven aimlessly around town, thinking about the restaurant, and then I thought about James. Instead of driving home, I went to the cemetery and visited his gravesite. He’s been buried at the Donato family monument next to his father, Edgar Donato, who’s passed from lung cancer earlier in the year.

A flat granite slab marked James’s plot: JAMES CHARLES DONATO. Underneath his name were his birth and death dates. Thomas and Claire weren’t sure of the exact date of death, but the coroner placed it two to five days after James had left. So they’ve settled on May 20. A nice round number.

I’ve spent an hour lying in the wet grass, my cheek pressed to the grave marker, thinking about the days leading up to the day he left. He had been adamant about going to Mexico. It had to be him and not Thomas. I didn’t want him to go. It was too close to the wedding. We had too much to plan and prepare. But with words and kisses he convinced me he wouldn’t be gone long.

When he returned he would quit Donato Enterprises and pursue art. Painting was his passion, so I relented. Looking back, I should have been just as adamant as he was, insisting he stay home. Then he wouldn’t be dead. We’d be married and on our honeymoon in Saint Bart’s. My mind wandered to the days after James had gone missing.

I’ve visited Claire, hoping to spend time with someone who grieved for James’ disappearance as much as I did. I should have known I’ve been expecting too much from her. Claire was more interested in the wedding invitations that had already been mailed than the possibility our worst fears could come true.

She wanted me to notify our guests that the wedding might be off. I blanched, facing her on the opposite couch in the Donatos’ formal living room. I wasn’t anywhere close to giving up on James or our future. The couch’s silk fabric under my thighs felt cool and stiff through my skirt.

The room’s modern furniture had been shipped through their import/export business, Donato Enterprises. All the pieces had sharp, hard angles like the bones in Claire’s face. There was nothing soft about any of them.

“I can’t call people. Not yet.”

I couldn’t bear telling our guests the wedding might be postponed, or worse, cancelled. It made James’ ordeal too real.

Claire stiffened.  “But you must—”

Movement in the doorway drew my attention. Phil came into the room, his gaze on target with mine like a hunter looking through a rifle’s scope.

Soundlessly, he sat beside his aunt. He draped an arm across her shoulders, looking too relaxed and at ease for a man who might have lost his cousin. Claire patted his thigh. She let her hand linger as she kissed his cheek. My stomach curdled.

“Aimee.”

Phil dipped his chin. I shifted restlessly on the couch. I hadn’t seen him since last summer, and I had no idea he was visiting. Claire rubbed Phil’s thigh.

“I don’t know what would I do without Phil. It’s been a terrible year for our family. I’m so thankful he’s moved in to keep me company. Phil gets me through the day.”

I jerked my gaze to Claire. Phil was living here? I dug my fingernails into the cushion. My knees knocked and I pressed my legs together as they trembled, the vibration moving up my torso and outward to my arms like a ripple in water. Claire’s brows furrowed.

“Are you all right?”

I shot to my feet.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She stood.

“If you must. Give me a moment. I have something for you.”

She left me in the room with Phil. He didn’t bother to stand, but I felt his eyes slide up my body.

“It’s been a long time, Aimee. Have you missed me?”

His voice was barely above a whisper. I heard every word as clearly as if he’s bellowed in my ear. I stared at the wall behind him. He sighed.

“Ah, well. I’ve missed you. You look good . . . considering.”

Fabric rustled as he shifted on the couch. Don’t get up; please don’t get up.

“It is unfortunate about James.”

He almost sounded remorseful. I glared at him. He chuckled.

“There it is. I’ve missed that fire.”

He’s crossed his legs, both arms extended across the couch back, leaving his starch-white oxford shirt exposed underneath the suit jacket. I felt exposed the way his gaze perused my length. Good thing a look couldn’t scald flesh. I’d have blisters.

“You understand Claire’s occupying herself with the mundane, frivolous things like your wedding. She worries about the guests because it’s too difficult for her to worry about James.”

“It’s difficult for all of us.”

He rubbed his upper lip.

“Yes, well . . . I suppose it is. I’m sorry.”

Everything inside me froze. I looked down at him.

“About James,” he clarified.

Anger burned deep inside me.

“You have a lot more than that to be sorry for.”

Claire’s heels echoed in the hallway. She entered the room, holding a manila folder. She motioned for me to take it.

“What’s this?”

The folder shook within her grasp.

“Phone numbers and e-mails.”

I frowned. “For who?”

“James’ wedding guests. You already have their street addresses. Now you can call or e-mail, tell them what’s happening. It’ll be quicker than mailing another letter.”

Was she serious? I debated arguing, but the longer I stayed, the more time I would be stuck here. I doubted Phil had plans to leave Claire’s side, not with me here.

“I’ll call them.” I took the folder and said good-bye.

Phil stood.

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

End of the Part 9!

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