Woman in Black

Woman in Black by Eileen Goudge Page A

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Authors: Eileen Goudge
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He’d been so depressed lately. All these months he’d kept up a good front, holding out hope until well into the eleventh hour, but he was finally cracking under the weight of despair. He had no appetite these days, and he didn’t sleep more than a few hours each night. “I’ll be up in a sec. I just need to clear away some of these boxes.” Lila glanced at her watch, surprised to see that she’d been down here for several hours. “I’m not sure what there is to eat, but you can check the fridge.”
    â€œNot to worry. I picked up bagels and cream cheese on my way over. And some of that Scottish salmon Dad likes.” Lila’s eyes misted over. Wasn’t that just like Neal? He was like his dad in that respect, too. Gordon never forgot an occasion. Every birthday and anniversary, he’d gone to extraordinary lengths to get her the perfect gift. Like on their tenth anniversary, when he’d whisked her off to the airport for a surprise trip to Morocco, a place she’d always wanted to visit. Without her knowing it, he’d had her bags packed, arranged for a babysitter, and rescheduled all her appointments. Now it was his father’s voice she heard as Neal said, “I brought a bottle of wine, too. The good stuff.”
    â€œWhat are you doing buying liquor? You’re underage!” She tried to sound like a concerned parent, but it was painfully obvious, to her at least, that she was only going through the motions. She hadn’t been much good to Neal or anyone since this whole ordeal had begun.
    â€œI never told you about my fake ID?” Neal gave a wicked laugh. “I just hope you haven’t packed up all the glasses.” From his tone, it might have been a celebration he had planned, but she heard the underlying cracks in his voice, the faint warble of fear.
    â€œWe’re in luck. I left the kitchen for last. I was going to tackle that tonight,” she told him. “In fact, you can help.”
    Tomorrow morning the movers would arrive to cart off all their stuff. Then she’d be on her way to Hopewell, about two hours’ drive north of the city, where she’d rented a small house, not far from Fishkill and near enough to Gordon so she’d be able to pay regular visits. It wasn’t fancy, but it would suffice. In fact, relocating to more modest digs was the part she minded the least. As their income had dried up, she’d learned to make do on less and had found, to her surprise, that she didn’t miss the luxuries she’d once thought essential. In some ways, too, it would be a relief to get away from the city, where she was surrounded by uncomfortable reminders of a lifestyle for which they’d all paid dearly.
    After she hung up, Lila finished stacking the boxes and tidying up before she locked the storage bin. Moments later, waiting for the elevator, she happened to catch her reflection in the mirror by the laundry room. It was with a small shock that she recognized the haggard face looking back at her as herself. Gone was the sleek, stylish woman who’d once graced New York magazine’s society pages. She’d lost so much weight her bones jutted like those of a famine victim and her eyes appeared sunken. She hadn’t been to her stylist in so long that the layers of her hair had grown out; they lay flat against her head, frizzy with split ends, as if she’d been caught in a downpour and it had been left to dry without the aid of a blow-dryer. In the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescents, her once porcelain complexion was the chalky white of toothpaste.
    As she stepped into the elevator, she said a silent little prayer of thanks that it was unoccupied. Her luck held out, and it didn’t stop at any of the other floors on its way up to the penthouse. Lately she lived in dread of running into other people in the elevator. They either felt obliged to murmur some polite pleasantry or they

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