panted into the phone.
“Maeva?”
“Yes,” I repeated, unable to identify the woman’s voice.
“Hi, it’s Lilah. How’ve you been?” Lilah’s mom and dad once owned a home in Gerry. She’d grown up there, but she’d married and left for Sea Grove Beach before my family moved to Gerry. I met Lilah for the first time when Catastrophe Claims, Inc. sent me to do the claim on her two-story, four-bedroom on stilts after Hurricane Ivan came through and blew shingles off her roof.
“Could be worse. How’re you doing?” I frowned at the soggy box and the few tax records I’d managed to recover. I examined one of the receipts. It was wet and illegible.
“I’m trying to get to London. The Panama City Airport canceled my flight, thanks to the hurricane. I can catch a connection in Montgomery leaving tomorrow morning. I’m on my way there now.” “Are you going to London for work or pleasure?” “Meeting Jay, my fiancé. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him to you.”
“Oh, yes, you did. He’s a...uh...musician, right?”
“That’s right. Jay’s finishing up a gig and wants me to join him. So I’m taking two weeks off.” Lilah’s voice sounded happy and I smiled at her obvious delight.
“Sounds like fun. Hope y’all have a wonderful time.” “Thanks, Maeva. We will if I can ever get there. Before I leave, I’d like to talk to you if you have the time.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Not over the phone. I’d like to come visit you this afternoon. May I?”
“But you said you’re catching a plane to London.”
“I’m spending the night in Montgomery. Flight leaves tomorrow. Right now I’m not far from you, but I’ll need directions.”
“It’s the split-level, A-frame, facing Lake Gerry, off Hartford Highway. Coming from your way, turn left after the patch of kudzu and pines. Mr. Simmons’ horse pasture is on the right. When you see it, look left and pull between the two brick pillars with ‘Larson’ across the top.”
“I apologize for the short notice,” Lilah said. “I hope it’s okay for me to pop in. I need to give you the information you wanted.”
“Of course, but promise me you won’t notice my house. Looks like the hurricane already came through here.”
“No worse than mine.”
After I hung up from Lilah, I stripped out of the wet jumper, put on a terry jogging suit and reflected on my uncanny connection with Lilah. No question our histories are similar. She lost her parents and then her husband died. Very sad, but she had no reservations about sharing her story the day we met. I shared with her, too. As a matter of fact, I released a flood of emotional sharing. I was going through the anger stage of grief then and looking back, I’m ashamed to say I vented too much. “I can’t understand why Adam had to go after that pedophile without backup?” He knew the guy was dealing drugs and dangerous,” I remember saying.
“Maybe he couldn’t wait to nail him,” Lilah had offered.
“Yeah, but he’d already gotten the little girl out of the house safety. He should have called for backup before returning.”
“Get over it,” I could hear my sister’s voice saying.
I melted down anyway. Sobbed while I washed my face, over and over, brushed my teeth and brewed coffee. When the doorbell rang, I dried my eyes for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths before greeting Lilah. “Hi, come on in. Great to see you.”
“Hi,” Lilah said, struggling with her umbrella, trying to close it.
“Don’t leave it outside. It’ll blow away.”
Lilah paraded her dripping open umbrella and a trail of expensive perfume inside the house. She wore a silk, lavender pants outfit and had her blond hair in a French twist.
“I really apologize for popping in on you like this,” she said, hugging me.
I pointed to the beige couch. “Have a seat. I’ve made coffee. How do you take yours?”
“Cream and honey. That is, if you have honey. If not, just cream.”
“You like
“Maeva?”
“Yes,” I repeated, unable to identify the woman’s voice.
“Hi, it’s Lilah. How’ve you been?” Lilah’s mom and dad once owned a home in Gerry. She’d grown up there, but she’d married and left for Sea Grove Beach before my family moved to Gerry. I met Lilah for the first time when Catastrophe Claims, Inc. sent me to do the claim on her two-story, four-bedroom on stilts after Hurricane Ivan came through and blew shingles off her roof.
“Could be worse. How’re you doing?” I frowned at the soggy box and the few tax records I’d managed to recover. I examined one of the receipts. It was wet and illegible.
“I’m trying to get to London. The Panama City Airport canceled my flight, thanks to the hurricane. I can catch a connection in Montgomery leaving tomorrow morning. I’m on my way there now.” “Are you going to London for work or pleasure?” “Meeting Jay, my fiancé. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him to you.”
“Oh, yes, you did. He’s a...uh...musician, right?”
“That’s right. Jay’s finishing up a gig and wants me to join him. So I’m taking two weeks off.” Lilah’s voice sounded happy and I smiled at her obvious delight.
“Sounds like fun. Hope y’all have a wonderful time.” “Thanks, Maeva. We will if I can ever get there. Before I leave, I’d like to talk to you if you have the time.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Not over the phone. I’d like to come visit you this afternoon. May I?”
“But you said you’re catching a plane to London.”
“I’m spending the night in Montgomery. Flight leaves tomorrow. Right now I’m not far from you, but I’ll need directions.”
“It’s the split-level, A-frame, facing Lake Gerry, off Hartford Highway. Coming from your way, turn left after the patch of kudzu and pines. Mr. Simmons’ horse pasture is on the right. When you see it, look left and pull between the two brick pillars with ‘Larson’ across the top.”
“I apologize for the short notice,” Lilah said. “I hope it’s okay for me to pop in. I need to give you the information you wanted.”
“Of course, but promise me you won’t notice my house. Looks like the hurricane already came through here.”
“No worse than mine.”
After I hung up from Lilah, I stripped out of the wet jumper, put on a terry jogging suit and reflected on my uncanny connection with Lilah. No question our histories are similar. She lost her parents and then her husband died. Very sad, but she had no reservations about sharing her story the day we met. I shared with her, too. As a matter of fact, I released a flood of emotional sharing. I was going through the anger stage of grief then and looking back, I’m ashamed to say I vented too much. “I can’t understand why Adam had to go after that pedophile without backup?” He knew the guy was dealing drugs and dangerous,” I remember saying.
“Maybe he couldn’t wait to nail him,” Lilah had offered.
“Yeah, but he’d already gotten the little girl out of the house safety. He should have called for backup before returning.”
“Get over it,” I could hear my sister’s voice saying.
I melted down anyway. Sobbed while I washed my face, over and over, brushed my teeth and brewed coffee. When the doorbell rang, I dried my eyes for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths before greeting Lilah. “Hi, come on in. Great to see you.”
“Hi,” Lilah said, struggling with her umbrella, trying to close it.
“Don’t leave it outside. It’ll blow away.”
Lilah paraded her dripping open umbrella and a trail of expensive perfume inside the house. She wore a silk, lavender pants outfit and had her blond hair in a French twist.
“I really apologize for popping in on you like this,” she said, hugging me.
I pointed to the beige couch. “Have a seat. I’ve made coffee. How do you take yours?”
“Cream and honey. That is, if you have honey. If not, just cream.”
“You like
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