Free Coming Home to You by Liesel Schmidt Page B

ma’am.”
    “I love you, Kate,” I said, staring at the ceiling as I blinked away tears. I was glad for the seclusion of my cubicle, away from the eyes of anyone who might have questioned the flashes of sadness and joy that seemed to vie for real estate in my emotions. “Congratulations. And tell Ray I love him too, okay?”
    “I will. And I love you, too.”
    Zoë,
    This letter might be somewhat unexpected, since most people seem to have forgotten how to use a pen and paper. That, and most guys seem to suck at communication in general.
    After two months, though, I thought it might be about time to check and see how things are going. Since I didn’t have your e-mail address, I decided to take the old-fashioned route and write you a letter. At least I know your mailing address, right? (Ha ha, I know, that took so very much thought on my part.) So.
    How are things going? How’s my house? Hopefully no kitchen fires while you’re in the middle of baking cupcakes? I really like chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. And whipped frosting. Just in case you were wondering…
    Ray seems to have complete confidence in you and thinks very highly of you, which is why I even considered this entire arrangement. Some of the guys here call me crazy for letting some woman I’ve never met watch my house, but most of them shouldn’t be so quick to hand out the free advice. That may sound a little bit on the harsh side; but if you met some of them, you’d definitely agree.
    Anyway, I just wanted to check in, make sure I still had a house to come home to. I’ve enclosed an index card with a couple of quick references for you on it, one of which is my e-mail address. Please feel free to contact me anytime you have a question about anything in the house. I know there are a couple of things coming up due like the annual termite treatment, so all the necessary info for those things is on the card, as well.
    I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet before I had to take off, but I’m sure Ray explained the circumstances. Thanks again for watching things for me.
    Neil
    The letter in my hands felt hot and alive.
    Finally! Here was something concrete from Neil, a proof of life of some sort. It was reassuring and unsettling at the same time, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. I was glad to hear from him, glad to know that he was at least aware of my presence here. But it also made me feel a bit vulnerable. What would I say to him, now that that I actually had that chance? It had been easy enough, writing him those letters before—the ones I’d written to the illusion, the ones I’d never sent and had never intended to. Those were meant for my eyes alone, an open door to every emotion I’d had over the past few months here, a gateway into my soul. And now, here was the man—the real one—finally reaching out to me and breaking the spell.
    And part of me was afraid that the broken spell, that the reality, would feel like another loss.
    Illusions have no flaws, and Neil was no longer an illusion.

Chapter 9
    “You have fantastic credit, Mrs. Trent,” the man across from me said, his eyes never straying from the computer screen in front of him.
    “It’s
Ms.
, actually. I’m not married.”
    I almost choked on the words, my cheeks flushing feverishly. I still wasn’t used to having to say it, and I wondered if he could see what I felt was so plainly written on my face. Maybe if he hadn’t been so focused on the computer, he would have.
    He glanced at me, then at my left hand, which rested—ringless—in my lap.
    “Oh, excuse me,” he replied, seeming not to notice as I quickly covered my left hand with my right. The action didn’t even register with him.
    He cleared his throat. “Well now, my dear, let’s get this ball rolling.”
    He flashed me his best smarmy car salesman smile and tapped away on his computer keyboard, his fingers seeming to fly across the keys. Pages spewed out of the printer behind him, stacking up at