Page 1 of The Guest Cottage
CHAPTER1
The miserable May weather suited the occasion. At least the eulogy was over, and she no longer had to talk with Dylan’s friends and distant family, all of whom expected her to weep for the loss of her dear, adoring husband.
Little did they know she’d lost him months ago when she’d found out about the “other woman.” For Marlow Heddings, everything had ended that day—the love, the commitment . . . the farce. Her plans for the future.
Her mother-in-law, usually an unstoppable force but now somewhat fragile, wouldn’t hear of having Dylan’s name tainted, not even with the truth.
Yet the truth was never far from Marlow’s mind. He’d been a lying, unfaithful, deceitful bastard. He’d hurt her, then mocked her with a cruel lack of remorse.
The awful things he’d said, the hateful way he’d blamed her, continued to rage like a tornado in her mind.
As if to reflect her dour thoughts, the skies grumbled, dark clouds tumbling over each other. Soon there would be another deluge.
If it would end this farce, she’d gladly be soaked.
Despite her foul thoughts, all of them accurate, she maintained her composed expression. Let them think it was inner strength that kept her eyes dry, her emotions in check. In reality, it was numbness.
Soon she’d drive away from her loss, her oppressive memories, and the determination of her suddenly clinging mother-in-law.
“Such a beautiful memorial service,” Sandra Heddings declared between her not-so-quiet sobs. “Everyone is properly honoring him.”
Properlyhonoring him? In a bid to keep her thoughts to herself, Marlow flattened her mouth. She wasn’t heartless enough to add to Sandra’s pain. Whatever failings her mother-in-law might have, loving her son wasn’t one of them. She’d cherished Dylan, making him her entire world.
Unfortunately, during the month that Dylan had been gone, it seemed Sandra had turned her sights on Marlow in some bizarre attempt to cherish his legacy.
“Come on,” Marlow whispered gently, her arm around the other woman. “Let’s get out of this rain.”
“I don’t want to let him go.” Turning into Marlow, Sandra squeezed her arms tight around her as wracking cries broke loose.
Desperately, Marlow glanced around for help, but many had already moved on. Aston, Dylan’s father, stood over the grave site, his head bowed and his proud shoulders slumped in pain. The few relatives still braving the weather were gathered around him, leaving Marlow to tend to Sandra.
Her wide black umbrella wasn’t sufficient to shelter them from the endless drizzling rain. God, she wanted this day over with. She wanted, needed, to wrap up her duty, her social obligations, so she could escape it all.
Sandra had wanted to delay the service until the weather cleared, but Marlow knew if she’d put it off at all, she’d have broken down.
Because she was taller and sturdier than Sandra, Marlow was able to steer her back along the path. “That’s it. One step at a time. You know how much Dylan loved you. He’d want you inside, warm and dry.”
“Yes, he would. He was such a good son. So devoted to our family.” Sandra’s eyes slanted her way. “To the business.”
Not always true. In many ways, Dylan had resented his mother. In other ways, he’d repeatedly disrespected her. His contribution to the business had been as a mere figurehead. He’d done very little actual work, even less after Marlow had caught him cheating.
With him and Marlow at odds, he’d repeatedly missed work, using the excuse that he wanted to avoid his wife’s “volatile and hostile moods,” even though she was always professional at work. Marlow had solved that for him by resigning her position and walking away.
She’d needed time alone to grieve the loss of her marriage and her future, and to start planning her next steps. The litigated divorce proceedings she’d begun almost a year ago had enraged all the Heddings—Dylan, his mother, and his father. None of them had expected her to fight, which only proved how little they’d really known her.
She’d given a lot to her marriage, and she’d helped to build the assets she and her husband had accumulated. Taking what she’d earned was fair; she didn’t want or need anything of Dylan’s. Yet he’d disagreed, and the battle had begun.
Just as it seemed they might get the divorce finalized, Dylan had died.
Now, none of that family antagonism seemed to matter anymore. Not to a grieving mother. Sandra had adopted a “let bygones be bygones” attitude.
As Marlow patiently urged her mother-in-law along, her gaze repeatedly swept the area. She half expected the “other woman” to show up. Wouldn’t that be the perfect theatrical kick? A lone mysterious woman, dressed all in black, watching from afar?
But no, it was only Dylan’s family and friends, all of them heartbroken that Saint Dylan was no longer with them.
Jaw locking, she lifted her chin a little higher and finally got her mother-in-law into the building. “Aston will bring around the car.”
“This has destroyed him.”
