Julia
Julia drove back to Lake Timmeny in a daze. David, her dear friend, was a low-budget pornographer. Even worse, he was partially responsible for a young woman’s death and was also connected to the Mob. What the hell? In her mind, Julia kept seeing a young man splayed out on the rocks in a river, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, a tangential casualty of David’s shady occupation.
Jimmy T’s dealings weren’t on the up-and-up. That’s what the bartender said, but what did that mean exactly? Everything Julia knew about the Mob, she’d learned fromThe Sopranos.
At a rest stop on the drive home, Julia took out her phone and did some research. Sure enough, she came upon a series of articles dated five years ago confirming the death of a young man found in the Walloomsac River with his neck broken. It was deemed an accident, but Julia knew better. Maybe she could help rewrite history, go to the Bennington police, and tell them about her conversation with the bartender. But his words of warning came back to her with force.
Don’t ask questions about Fiona or her family in this town. It’s not safe.
She wished she hadn’t come looking for answers, because all she left with were more questions, including the odd riddle that David had recited about committing the perfect murder.
How do you shoot someone without ever pulling the trigger?
Julia had no idea, but was that what he’d done to Fiona—somehow shot her without firing a weapon? David’s connection to his missing girlfriend wasn’t simple or straightforward. There was far more than jealousy to stoke Fiona’s fires. She may very well have a motive for revenge, and David a reason to keep her quiet.
It was a bright and clear afternoon when Julia returned from her sojourn. Somehow, in her absence, the surrounding greenery had lost its vibrancy, and the lake’s sparkle had dimmed to a dull shade of gray. She found Erika at the shorefront, entertaining the twins.
“Thanks for the car. Why are you with the kids?” Julia asked as she handed Erika her keys.
“David gave Izzy some time off and then regretted it, so I came to his rescue. He’s working in his office.”
Julia peered into the glass house, spotting David seated at his computer on the third floor. Fortunately, she couldn’t see whatever explicit images might be on his monitor. She wanted to tell Erika everything about her trip—what she’d learned at the Black Rose. But sharing all that would probably mean confessing her own secrets, including the loss of the lake house and David’s distasteful offer to fix her money troubles. The only picture she could post to Instagram to capture her current state of mind would be a mushroom cloud exploding over the New Mexico desert.
“Where are Lucas and Rick?”
“Rick dragged him to see Champlain College. I don’t know what kind of bribe he used to convince him to go,” she said.
“Or threat?” suggested Julia, which got a smirk out of Erika.
Nearby, Brody and Becca splashed at the shoreline without a care. Erika watched them from under the brim of her sun hat. “I miss those simpler days, don’t you?” she said.
“Little kids, little problems,” answered Julia, reciting the familiar parents’ maxim.
Somehow the aphorism jarred something inside her. Suddenly an answer to her troubles that had once seemed so elusive became stunningly clear. The best way to address her problems wasto shrink them down to a manageable size. It was so simple, so effective—and yet so easy to overlook.
You don’t tackle a massive project all at once—you break it down into manageable steps. You turn a big bite into many small ones.It was as if the way forward had been magically downloaded into her brain.
Back in her house, Julia called her financial advisor, who didn’t answer, but she left a voicemail. The next call she made was to Christian.
She endured a pang of sadness at the sound of his voice, but girded herself for what she had to do.
“Hey, I’m so glad you called,” Christian said. If he had been a wine, she’d describe him as genuine with notes of remorse and full-bodied sadness.
“How are you doing?” she asked without much cheer. “Are you sober?”
“Not a drop since the lake,” he promised. “I’ve been going to two meetings a day.”
“Good,” said Julia. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Even though she meant it, she was still surrounded by his betrayal—swallowed by it, actually. She could forgive him (maybe), but she couldn’t escape what he’d done. Even if she left him, she’d still bear the scars of losing the lake house. Time would not heal that wound. She’d be forced to relive his deception in her constant yearning to come to a place where she no longer belonged.
“Listen to my words carefully,” Julia said. “I still love you, though I’m not entirely sure why. I’ll have a therapist help me unpack that down the road. But while you are sober—and you need tostaysober—you will find a buyer for our failing business. I don’t care if we leave cash on the table. You will get this albatrosssold,and then you will use that money to save my house. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Christian said. “I know my apology rings hollow, butbelieve me, Jules, I feel sick about what I’ve done. I’ve never been so sorry in all my life.”
“Not even after you screwed that stranger?”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “I know you well enough to understand that this is even worse.”
