If that were the case, were their grim expressions no more than masks hiding their true feelings of elation. Mine was. Yet below the elation, I also had confusion. What kind of a mess did he leave me?
“Victoria,” Sheila Keene said, pulling me into the present, forcing me to acknowledge her presence. Her kind eyes teared as she shook her head slowly. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Your poor, dear Stewart suffered for so long. Cancer is such an ugly thing. And you… you never left his side.”
Sheila was one of the first to truly accept me into Stewart’s world. She understood the pressure that our sudden marriage would inflict. While her situation was different, being married to a senator, she dealt with similar scrutiny. Perhaps that was why we found common ground with the Harrington Society. She was the president of my board, and thankfully, we saw eye to eye on many of the pivotal issues.
That said, her husband made me uncomfortable. Usually he was too busy to attend couples functions, other than ones that could second as campaign fundraisers. That was what I appreciated about Sheila. She didn’t have the single mindset of supporting her husband. She actually had a brain and believed that her time and energy could go to genuine causes that warranted her attention.
Squaring my shoulders I repeat the words I’ve said over and over, “Thank you, Sheila.” Looking up into her husband’s cold, calculating eyes, I continued, “And Senator Keene. I just couldn’t leave him, not as ill as he was. I didn’t want to be anywhere but by his side.”
“I’m so sorry they had to call you to the distribution center,” Sheila offered. “I’d told that imbecile of a secretary that I’d be home in just a few days. Of course, we cut our vacation short and came home as soon as we received word about Stewart.”
“That was very kind of you. Truly, you didn’t need to do that.”
Sheila patted her husband’s arm. “Robert insisted. He said he knew Stewart would have done the same for him.”
I looked back up to Senator Keene’s ruddy cheeks and less-than-mournful expression. Travis had said politicians—he’d watched me be fucked by politicians. I stiffened my neck and leaned toward Sheila, hugging and thanking her for her support. Her heavy perfume permeated my senses.
“My dear,” she continued, “you really do need to get out, now that…” Her words trailed away. There are so many ways to end that sentence: now that the bastard is dead… now that you will have some freedom… now that you’re filthy rich and can tell the entire world to stick it up their… Her mouth continued moving even though I was lost in my own world. I’d missed a few sentences, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out the meaning. “…very busy with all the arrangements and legalities, but soon, soon…” She squeezed my hands. “…we must do lunch. You need some girl time.”
“Thank you Sheila. I appreciate the offer. We will need to do that.”
I moved my eyes to the next couple, hoping that Senator Robert Keene wouldn’t attempt conversation. That hope was immediately dashed as his hands embraced my shoulders, and his rank, warm breath whispered the appearance of condolences into my ear. “Mrs. Harrington, the loss of your husband will create many voids in our world. I certainly hope you’ll make the right decision and carry on.”
I didn’t need his words or his implications: his acetone breath brought back a rush of memories. Had I never stood this close? Had I not tried to know, or did I just not want to know? The answer didn’t matter. Fatal Lullaby played in the distance as I remembered scenes.
Closing my eyes for only a second, I backed slightly away from his touch and made the most of my five-foot-six-inch frame. With my red-glossed lips pressed into a smile, I allowed my steel-gray eyes to give him the recognition he apparently thought I was too simple to obtain. “Thank you, Senator. I appreciate your concern for my husband’s arrangements and for my future. I can guarantee you that my future will be considerably different from my past.”
Senator Robert Keene stepped back from the determination of my statement. I’m sure it wasn’t what he’d expected. After all, I’d never been allowed to speak. Sheila’s eyes flickered back to her husband’s and then to mine. As she was about to speak, I saw Travis and his familiar narrow-eyed glare.
“Robert,” Sheila began, “this is no place to be discussing business. Victoria has her plate full. I’m sure that whatever you’re discussing can wait.”
Before Robert could respond, I reached for Sheila’s hands. “Thank you again, Sheila. I’m sure Robert meant well. I promise, I’ll be fine.” Blinking, I focused my newfound disgust into the right amount of emotion and fostered a tear. “I’ll see you next week at the Harrington Society meeting. Maybe after that we can get coffee?”
“Oh, I didn’t think you would… so soon.”
“Stewart would want me to do that. He was so proud of my work with the foundation.”
Smiling sadly, Sheila agreed, “You’re right. We’ll let you get to your next visitors. Once again, we’re so sorry for your loss.”
If only she knew. I wasn’t sorry, but I couldn’t help but think that if her husband pursued his current train of thought, he would be.
“Mrs. Harrington…” The condolences continued.
I nodded and responded mechanically, until the familiar aquamarine appeared before me. I had difficulty not reaching up and stroking Brody’s cheek as he respectfully extended his hand and began a speech about how much my husband would be missed. There was a comical relief to his words. Though not each one of them registered, I listened, taking in their cadence as a melody to my dark soul. It was the infusion of energy I needed to continue my role.
“Victoria,” Sheila Keene said, pulling me into the present, forcing me to acknowledge her presence. Her kind eyes teared as she shook her head slowly. “We’re so sorry for your loss. Your poor, dear Stewart suffered for so long. Cancer is such an ugly thing. And you… you never left his side.”
Sheila was one of the first to truly accept me into Stewart’s world. She understood the pressure that our sudden marriage would inflict. While her situation was different, being married to a senator, she dealt with similar scrutiny. Perhaps that was why we found common ground with the Harrington Society. She was the president of my board, and thankfully, we saw eye to eye on many of the pivotal issues.
That said, her husband made me uncomfortable. Usually he was too busy to attend couples functions, other than ones that could second as campaign fundraisers. That was what I appreciated about Sheila. She didn’t have the single mindset of supporting her husband. She actually had a brain and believed that her time and energy could go to genuine causes that warranted her attention.
Squaring my shoulders I repeat the words I’ve said over and over, “Thank you, Sheila.” Looking up into her husband’s cold, calculating eyes, I continued, “And Senator Keene. I just couldn’t leave him, not as ill as he was. I didn’t want to be anywhere but by his side.”
“I’m so sorry they had to call you to the distribution center,” Sheila offered. “I’d told that imbecile of a secretary that I’d be home in just a few days. Of course, we cut our vacation short and came home as soon as we received word about Stewart.”
“That was very kind of you. Truly, you didn’t need to do that.”
Sheila patted her husband’s arm. “Robert insisted. He said he knew Stewart would have done the same for him.”
I looked back up to Senator Keene’s ruddy cheeks and less-than-mournful expression. Travis had said politicians—he’d watched me be fucked by politicians. I stiffened my neck and leaned toward Sheila, hugging and thanking her for her support. Her heavy perfume permeated my senses.
“My dear,” she continued, “you really do need to get out, now that…” Her words trailed away. There are so many ways to end that sentence: now that the bastard is dead… now that you will have some freedom… now that you’re filthy rich and can tell the entire world to stick it up their… Her mouth continued moving even though I was lost in my own world. I’d missed a few sentences, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out the meaning. “…very busy with all the arrangements and legalities, but soon, soon…” She squeezed my hands. “…we must do lunch. You need some girl time.”
“Thank you Sheila. I appreciate the offer. We will need to do that.”
I moved my eyes to the next couple, hoping that Senator Robert Keene wouldn’t attempt conversation. That hope was immediately dashed as his hands embraced my shoulders, and his rank, warm breath whispered the appearance of condolences into my ear. “Mrs. Harrington, the loss of your husband will create many voids in our world. I certainly hope you’ll make the right decision and carry on.”
I didn’t need his words or his implications: his acetone breath brought back a rush of memories. Had I never stood this close? Had I not tried to know, or did I just not want to know? The answer didn’t matter. Fatal Lullaby played in the distance as I remembered scenes.
Closing my eyes for only a second, I backed slightly away from his touch and made the most of my five-foot-six-inch frame. With my red-glossed lips pressed into a smile, I allowed my steel-gray eyes to give him the recognition he apparently thought I was too simple to obtain. “Thank you, Senator. I appreciate your concern for my husband’s arrangements and for my future. I can guarantee you that my future will be considerably different from my past.”
Senator Robert Keene stepped back from the determination of my statement. I’m sure it wasn’t what he’d expected. After all, I’d never been allowed to speak. Sheila’s eyes flickered back to her husband’s and then to mine. As she was about to speak, I saw Travis and his familiar narrow-eyed glare.
“Robert,” Sheila began, “this is no place to be discussing business. Victoria has her plate full. I’m sure that whatever you’re discussing can wait.”
Before Robert could respond, I reached for Sheila’s hands. “Thank you again, Sheila. I’m sure Robert meant well. I promise, I’ll be fine.” Blinking, I focused my newfound disgust into the right amount of emotion and fostered a tear. “I’ll see you next week at the Harrington Society meeting. Maybe after that we can get coffee?”
“Oh, I didn’t think you would… so soon.”
“Stewart would want me to do that. He was so proud of my work with the foundation.”
Smiling sadly, Sheila agreed, “You’re right. We’ll let you get to your next visitors. Once again, we’re so sorry for your loss.”
If only she knew. I wasn’t sorry, but I couldn’t help but think that if her husband pursued his current train of thought, he would be.
“Mrs. Harrington…” The condolences continued.
I nodded and responded mechanically, until the familiar aquamarine appeared before me. I had difficulty not reaching up and stroking Brody’s cheek as he respectfully extended his hand and began a speech about how much my husband would be missed. There was a comical relief to his words. Though not each one of them registered, I listened, taking in their cadence as a melody to my dark soul. It was the infusion of energy I needed to continue my role.
