Free The House on Olive Street by Robyn Carr Page B

into myself and maybe write about it.’”
    “She said that about him, didn’t she, Elly? John Shelby. When she quit traveling the world, it wasn’t because she was done with that kind of writing. It was because she knew she’d never have the man she loved, wasn’t it?”
    “It was all of it. She told him that she’d had enough, that she needed to be home with her children and couldn’t stomach any more heartbreaking stories, that she couldn’t maintain her low profile so that his wife wouldn’t catch on. She had delivered him an ultimatum—to make good on his promises, or end the affair. That was the note on which they left it. You can imagine her pain. Which she bore alone, he having been married with children.”
    “You were there. She wasn’t alone.”
    “I was very little help, I’m afraid. Who would listen to an old spinster’s advice on the pain of lost love? I only hope I can persevere as well as Gabby did.”
    “You haven’t been tempted…to…you know—”
    “Drink? Oh Sable, you pure soul. I’m tempted all the time. Ninety percent of the time drinking worked tolerably well for me. It was that goddamned ten percent that got me into trouble. But don’t worry. I won’t drink. I don’t think they distilled enough gin last year to numb the loneliness Gabby’s left me with. And you? How are you dealing with this?”
    “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I never feel anything but fear. It’s the only emotion I can actually identify. I’m afraid without her.” Sable shrugged. “I was afraid before. And now I’m afraid of one more thing.”
    Eleanor gave a wan smile. “I know. And I don’t imagine we’re the only two. I’ll call you within the week to find out about our dinner plans.”
    Sable stood in the kitchen for a long time after Elly left, looking at the precious script of Gabby’s hand on the envelope. There was a light tapping at the kitchen door and Jeff Petross let himself in. “Everyone’s gone and we checked the grounds. How you doin’?”
    “Tired. But okay.”
    “I don’t think you have to worry about that little wimp we threw outta here. I mean, you don’t have to worry that he’ll come back. I can stay over….”
    “No, no. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
    He shrugged. “I’m free. If you’d feel better. I know sometimes you feel unsafe. You don’t have to have a reason. It’s hell being all edgy. Better you should sleep.”
    “Thanks, but I’ll just lock up.”
    “You have my cell number if you change your mind. Want me to check around inside?”
    She gave a sheepish shrug, she wouldn’t mind. He smiled and walked past her, into the house. She waited in the kitchen. She could hear him in the distance, opening and closing windows and doors. It was a big house; it took him ten minutes.
    Sable knew, had known for three years, that Jeff had some unspoken tender feelings toward her. He took care of her as though she were more than just another client. His eyes were soft when he talked to her and occasionally he would give her arm a squeeze of reassurance. He made himself personally available to her every need, armed her with his personal cell number, encouraged her to rely on him and had long ago worked it into the conversation that he was unmarried and not seeing anyone. He took care that his behavior was professional and proper; he never made any advances. But she knew. He knew she knew. And there had been times she’d been tempted to find out for herself just how deep his feelings ran, despite the fact that she did not trust men and felt she had no room in her life for a romantic relationship.
    But not tonight of all nights. Not while Gabby’s letter waited.
    “Everything’s secure, Sable,” he said.
    “I really appreciate that you do this yourself, Jeff. I know you could just send one of your guys.”
    “I consider this job one of my perks,” he said, smiling again. “Try to get some rest. You don’t look tired, but I can