Free A Widow Redefined by Kim Cano

how he lit up when he talked about me. Something about the way she had said that, it was like… I don’t know. I had to hear more, and soon. As I lay there, I realized she didn’t have my phone number, only Justin’s old one, which had been long since disconnected. I decided I’d call her tomorrow to make plans to return.
    I waited until my way home from work to give her a buzz. After I dialed her number, I got voicemail.
    “Hi Sabrina. It’s Amy,” I told her I’d finished with her book and left my number, asking her to call back and let me know if I should drop it by or mail it.
    I didn’t want to mail it, but I thought it appropriate to offer, just in case she was being polite by having me over in the first place.
    All of a sudden the lunacy of the moment hit me and I began laughing. The whole situation was odd. Me hanging around her trying to see if she was hiding something, if she really had an affair with my late husband. I decided if I didn’t hear from her soon I’d just mail the book back and be done with it. End of story.
    •••••
    The next day, on my way home from work, I checked voicemail. There were two messages. The first one was from my mom. Josephine was stopping by. She’d called and offered to make us dinner. This blindsided me. I appreciated her enthusiasm, but wasn’t sure I liked another woman in my kitchen telling me what to eat.
    The second message was a bit more interesting. “Hello Amy. This is Henry, Sabrina’s assistant. Sabrina is in Europe right now and will return in a week. She asked that you not mail the book back, that you bring it in person. She will contact you when she comes home to make plans.”
    She hadn’t mentioned going overseas. But why should she? I wasn’t her keeper, and we weren’t friends. I suspect we were curiosities to each other at best.
    I wanted to see her again, that was true. And she wanted me to come back in person as well. I knew my reasons, but didn’t know hers.
    More than ever, I couldn’t wait to discover what secrets Sabrina held from me. I was like my son; nothing could stop me once I’d focused on something. And I had no one to monitor which direction my passions went—good or bad—because no one in my world knew Sabrina existed but me.

Chapter 8
    W hen I walked in the door I was greeted by the sound of rapid chopping and the smell of onions and garlic and some other spice I couldn’t quite place.
    Josephine was in my kitchen. She was wearing an apron and in the middle of creating something surprisingly colorful for us to eat.
    “Hi there,” I said, smiling.
    “Hi,” Josephine said back. Then she threw some raw vegetables into the skillet and I heard them sizzle.
    “How nice of you to come by and cook for us. It’s so unexpected. A wonderful surprise.”
    Josephine looked confused. “Well Tyler was nice enough to invite me.”
    I stole a glance at my son, who sat reading a book at the kitchen table.
    He looked up at me and grinned.
    Josephine was in on it. His mission of better health for us. And she seemed like she couldn’t be happier. She pushed the vegetarian lifestyle like a bible-banger pushed Jesus Christ.
    I’d have to find a polite way to put the brakes on this.
    Mom walked in and began setting the table. I grabbed everyone something to drink.
    “Coke?” I asked.
    I already knew my mom’s answer—yes.
    “I’ll have water,” Josephine said.
    I looked at Tyler. “Water for me too.”
    My son never drank water. But I poured him a glass and set it in front of him. Then Josephine served us dinner and we sat down to eat.
    I took a bite and puzzled over the strange texture and odd flavor. I felt Josephine’s expectant eyes waiting on me. “Different,” I said.
    “Good different?” she asked.
    Tyler cut in. “I love it.”
    Josephine smiled at Tyler. She’d found herself a little convert.
    Mom took a big swig of her soda to wash her food down. I couldn’t chance eye contact with her though, because