Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
The redhead laughs again. “Oh, it has all that, I’m sure. Richard is—” She breaks off as someone answers on the other end of the line. “Hey there, Richard. It’s Jennifer from the grocery. I’ve got a nice woman here who’s looking for a place to stay.” She’s quiet for a moment, then she covers the receiver with a hand and asks, “How long were you wanting it for?”
I shrug. “Ideally, a couple of weeks, but if he has other bookings, even just tonight would be fantastic.”
Jennifer relays the information. Richard says two weeks will be fine and is kind enough to take my credit card information over the phone. He gives me directions for finding the property—and the key hidden in the well pump behind the cottage—and invites me to use any of the pasta, rice, and other staples left in the pantry.
Within ten minutes, I’m thanking Jennifer profusely and hurrying out to my car with my bag of provisions. I’m exhausted and so progressively foul-feeling I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings as I pull back onto the street. I’m too busy searching for the fire road—finally finding it on my second backtrack through the village—and then mentally adjusting my production schedule in case I’m too sick to sew tomorrow.
I still have some breathing room. I’d planned to turn my collection in early, proving to Bianca, my supervisor, that my time management skills have improved along with my sewing, but as long as I hit the deadline, everything will be fine.
“Everything is absolutely going to be fine,” I assure myself in a raspy voice as I park in front of the cute A-frame cabin and stomp around to the back to find the well pump. It’s nearly dark, but there’s enough light to find the key and to see that the view from the back window of the house is going to be stunning in the morning when the sun rises.
Running into Jeffrey and catching this case of the sniffles are just two little bumps in the road. Tomorrow, I will rest and heal, and by the next day, I’ll be back on track to finishing my masterpiece.
I nod, proud of my grounded, rational thoughts.
These are, unfortunately, my last rational thoughts for a very long time.
5
Jeffrey
I don’t know how I know she’s heading north. I just…do.
Something deep in my gut insists I take a right on the way out of Islip Downs, and I obey it.
I’m a man of logic, but I trust my intuition. The human body has ways of knowing things that have nothing to do with conscious thought. Study after scientific study has proven that the sympathetic nervous system recognizes cues from the world around us that slip unnoticed by our reasoning minds.
Perhaps Lizzy left some subtle clue during our conversation in the café.
Or perhaps I’m just lucky. Again.
But mere moments after pulling over for petrol at a tiny village on the road north, I spot Elizabeth walking out of a grocery store.
I duck behind the pillar by the pump, waiting until she loads her bag into the passenger’s seat and gets into her car before hurrying into mine. Grateful for the tinted windows on the Jaguar, I shift into drive, turning onto the main road behind her as she pulls away from the curb.
At first, I’m careful to keep my distance, but by the second time she completes a U-turn to head back into town, I’m directly behind her. She isn’t paying any attention to the other drivers on the road. If she were, she would have spotted me when our vehicles passed each other.
She also would avoid darting in front of a delivery truck with a sudden left, cutting it so close the man is forced to slam on his breaks and still nearly hits her bumper. He rolls down his window with a vigorous pump of his arm and shouts obscenities after her, but she doesn’t seem to notice that, either. She’s too busy weaving back and forth on the narrow road, taking such wide turns that I cringe every time I round a bend behind her, certain I’m going to see her smashed into the front of an oncoming vehicle.
Luckily for everyone, the road is deserted. Because Lizzy is an abysmal driver.
Maybe the worst I’ve ever seen, truly a danger to herself and others.
She finally careens into a parking space in front of a cottage with a wall of glass on the second floor and stumbles around to the back, returning a few minutes later to fetch her bag of groceries. She makes several trips back and forth from the cabin, bringing my car into her line of sight each time she steps off the porch steps, but she doesn’t notice.
She doesn’t seem to be noticing much. She trips three times over the same rock in the path leading to the cottage, and by her final pass, she’s zigzagging up the steps, stumbling so much that she practically falls through the front door.