Stacy seemed taken aback. “What circus?”
“All these people carrying off everything Sophia DeBussi owns.”
“From what I’ve heard, she owes them that and more.”
“Maybe she didn’t know what Skip was doing. Maybe she had no part in it.”
Stacy ran a finger over his chin. He looked less bloated since his divorce; he’d finally lost some weight. “She certainly took part in spending our money.”
“Not knowingly.”
“You sure about that?”
“In any case, I think she’s suffering enough. And her daughter’s what...thirteen? At that age, it’s highly unlikely she had any part in it. How will they get by when this is over? Does anyone care about that?”
Stacy made a face that said Ted was worried about nothing. “She’s probably got a fortune we don’t know about. Anyway, she doesn’t need a twenty-thousand-dollar couch to get by. We’ve all been getting by with a lot less than that, haven’t we?”
He walked off, and fifteen minutes later, reappeared, pockets bulging, as he carried a painting to his cruiser. After that, Ted couldn’t bear to watch. With all the things coming out of that house, he couldn’t imagine there was much left. Some people were even taking Sophia’s silverware, dishes and small appliances. Why wasn’t Eve putting a stop to it?
* * *
He texted her, telling her to do just that, and drove away, but he was too upset to go home. He went by the high school, and parked in front of the gymnasium, where he’d given so many speeches as student body president—and taken Sophia to the prom. Then he headed to the river and hiked down to the rope swing where he and Sophia had gone skinny-dipping the summer they were seventeen. He even visited the abandoned gold-mining shack where they’d made love for the first time. He wanted to remember all the reasons he should hate her. And visiting these places should have helped because they reminded him of how much she’d meant to him. Reminded him that she’d ruined all their plans by getting serious with Skip while he was away at college. She’d never mentioned that she was seeing someone else. She’d pretended she wasn’t. Then his mother had heard, via town gossip, that she was pregnant.
He’d been furious with her for so long. Over the past decade and a half or so, there’d been plenty of times he’d found himself wishing she’d realize what she’d lost, what she’d cost them both. That was pride talking, of course. Like any spurned lover, he wanted her to regret choosing someone else. But despite everything he held against her, he’d never wanted to see her devastated.
He hated seeing it now.
Maybe that was the truest testament to how much he’d loved her.
10
“I’m stunned that you’ve agreed!”
With a grimace at Eve’s reaction, which he considered a bit over the top, Ted pivoted at the window and headed back across his living room. He’d been pacing ever since he’d returned home. And although it was approaching midnight, too late to be calling someone even on a weekend, he’d broken down and called Eve.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said. “I’m not completely heartless.”
Just crazy. What had happened to his conviction? He’d told himself he would never have another thing to do with Sophia. He’d already forgiven her once, when he’d taken her back after Scott’s death. She’d come to him in tears, insisting that she still wanted to be with him, that he was the only boy she’d ever love. And he’d stood by her despite the negative reaction of almost everyone else in town. So what did she do after that? She proved her love by getting pregnant while he was away at school and marrying the other guy.
Yet here he was, suggesting she call him about his housekeeper position, even though he’d removed the ad from Craigslist for fear she’d apply!
His mother was going to have a fit. He felt a little guilty about that, since she’d always been such a standout mom. His father had never taken much interest; he’d been too involved with his second family. That made Ted feel he owed the parent who’d stuck by him more than a normal kid would owe his mother. But he insisted on making his own decisions, especially about this, even if it proved to be a mistake.
“What changed your mind?” Eve asked. “You haven’t had anything nice to say about Sophia in years.”
“I’m not saying anything nice about her now,” he clarified. “I barely know her anymore. I just... I can’t imagine how she’ll ever get back on her feet without some help. And I don’t see Skip’s parents or anyone else taking pity on her.”
“Ugh, if only you knew how badly they were treating her,” Eve said. “I’d give you details, but I feel like that would somehow be...breaking a confidence.”
Her comment irritated him because it suggested she had strong loyalties to Sophia, when he was the one who’d hung out with Eve since grade school. “Suddenly you’re better friends with her than you are me?”
“No! Of course not. But she’s vulnerable right now, fragile. And you...you have everything under control. Let’s face it. No one manages life—or anything else—quite as well as you do.”
“It’s because of that inflexibility you tease me about,” he said dryly.
She laughed. “It is! But that inflexibility could also be called self-discipline. You’ve always been the overachiever in the group.”
“Stop trying to appeal to my vanity. You’re throwing me over for Sophia.”
“I am not!” she said. “But I don’t mind telling you that what you’re offering her is really wonderful. You should’ve seen her tonight while everyone was rummaging through her house.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the details. It’d been difficult enough to watch it from outside. But he couldn’t help asking, “Was she crying?”
“No. I wish she had been. Crying would’ve been a normal reaction to sadness and pain. Crying is how most people cope with disappointment. But what she’s suffering goes deeper than that. She’s depressed. Numb. Completely lost. She sat on the back steps, smoking a cigarette, believe it or not, and staring off into space. She didn’t try to protect any of her possessions, even the ones with sentimental value.”
He felt a tightness in his chest, which he didn’t want to acknowledge, and opened his mouth to bring the conversation back to the practical—the details of the job—but she kept talking.