Afraid of Her Shadow Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  THE JUGGLING ACT

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JOIN ME ON THE EDGE

  WALK THE EDGE OF ROM-COM...ONLINE

  AFRAID OF HER SHADOW

  Carol Maloney Scott

  http://carolmaloneyscott.com

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright Carol Maloney Scott 2015

  For those who have suffered the loss of a spouse,

  And the ones who bravely join them on the path back to love

  CHAPTER ONE

  “…and if someone doesn’t do something about the toilet paper in the ladies’ room, I’m writing to my Congressman!”

  Harriet’s face is sweaty. It’s red as a tomato, as if she ran a marathon instead of shouting at me about the state of her private parts due to the company’s poor restroom maintenance. I sigh and shift in my seat. This has been a long day, and it isn’t even noon.

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?” She fixes me with a glare through narrowed eyes.

  I resist the urge to tell her that she should write to her Congressman about the toilet paper, because after all—politicians are full of crap.

  “Harriet, I’ll call Maintenance and see what I can do to improve the quality of your…experience.” No one ever told me that being the head of human resources for a growing publishing company would be like this.

  “Well then…that’s better.” Harriet pulls herself up to her feet, wipes her forehead (did she just rub her sweat on my guest chair?), and starts breathing heavy on her way to the door. I pray for no heart attacks on my watch today.

  She shouldn’t be sweating—it is plenty cold in here. They’ve already started putting the air conditioning on in the office (it’s only May, but Richmond is a hot city), and working in a meat locker would be an improvement. Maybe if I threw them a T-bone or a couple of sausage links, these people would ease up some. And I certainly wouldn’t mind if a young Stallone came by to practice his right cross on a side of beef.

  Harriet slams the door behind her and I consider hiding under my desk until lunch time. It’s eleven-thirty and I am hoping to get a little bit of work done before the next looney comes knocking. Last week someone was mad because the smokers get more breaks than the nonsmokers. Apparently, one extra ten minute break a day is a good tradeoff for cancer. Then it was the tuna in the cafeteria. They don’t put enough mayonnaise in it. It was always somewhat like this, but in the past year Bella Donna has grown rapidly, and we have hired anything with a pulse to fill the new positions. Hence, Harriet and the toilet paper fiasco. These things all involve humans or resources but never human resources.

  I wish Claire was still in charge of recruiting, but right after we launched the hot, new erotica line, she discovered a new novelist—and love. Brandon’s quality work attracted more of the same, jump starting our success as a publisher of serious fiction (in addition to our new status as quality smut peddler), which meant Claire got an editor position. I am left to deal with the crazies all by myself.

  Actually, that’s not even true. I have my own special crazy person. Some rocket scientist decided to put Cecilia in charge of hiring. She used to be our CEO’s “administrative assistant,” but that challenging position is now filled by Amanda, who was formerly the front desk receptionist. (Though not literally. Amanda is a nice girl.) Cecilia is a nut and doesn’t know the first thing about recruiting, and Amanda is too timid and naïve to keep Tim in line. With the exception of Claire’s promotion, it’s been a game of musical chairs that everyone loses.

  On a brighter note, this time last year I met a wonderful man and we’ve been dating for a year. Today is our anniversary and I’m meeting him downtown at our favorite restaurant, The Crab Cracker. Steve is a widower. His wife died at thirty-seven in a cycling accident.

  I shudder at the thought, but the real challenge is that I dwell on this event almost constantly. I didn’t know Noreen, yet her death causes me tremendous anguish and confusion. There’s the guilt over my desire to pretend she didn’t exist, coupled with the jealousy and insecurity that rear their ugly twin heads when confronted with her memory.

  I may be handling this poorly, but I am terrified of death. I can’t even say the word out loud. I can’t make sense of it, and how it fits into my life. Our relationship. Life in general. Now it’s here. In my face. The longer Steve and I are together, the more I feel the creeping shadow of his loss bearing down on…

  My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door, followed by a little blond entering with a purse three times the size of her head.

  “Are you ready for lunch? I need to show you some wedding stuff.” Claire is all smiles, but anxiety is emanating from her diminutive frame the same way Harriet’s sweat oozed onto my furniture.

  “After the morning I’ve had, I would love to talk about flowers and seating charts—”

  “Okay, let’s go then.” She heaves the tremendous satchel over her shoulder and almost collapses from the weight. I look down at her feet.

  “If you’re going to continue to schlep around a wedding planning suitcase, you better start lifting weights or wearing stable shoes.”

  She glances at her stilettos and barely regains her balance. “If I just lean the right way, I’m fine.”

  I shake my head and search around my desk for my purse. Where did I put it? It was right here this morning…

  Never missing an opportunity to return my sarcasm, Claire’s eyes brighten as she spots my stockpile of office comfort items in the corner, behind my desk. “Is that your stash of bedding over there? Near the massive mound of cookies? In case you have to pull an all-nighter or get snowed in?”

  “Ha-ha…very funny. The air conditioning is frigid in this place and a girl needs her treats and blankets to stay warm.” I mock shiver and hug myself. Maybe my purse is under that afghan…

  Claire does not comprehend sacrificing organization for preparation. I may be messy, but I am ready for all eventualities. “You’ll be sorry when the zombie apocalypse comes and you have nothing but eyeliner and party shoes in your arsenal,” I warn.

  Claire rolls her chocolate colored eyes. I’m so hungry they look like my favorite Godiva truffles.

  “Where do you want to eat lunch? Is Gina coming?” she asks.

>   I open my mouth to respond and then see a new face at the door. “Speak of the devil. I mean our brilliant erotica editor.”

  Gina maneuvers her way in, and throws Claire off balance again. She grabs the bride-to-be and steadies her. “Are we going to talk about the wedding again?” She shakes her long auburn hair and places her hands on her curvy hips. “Before you say anything, it’s fine. I understand.” She puts up her hand in defense. “I’m just sayin’…I am not a big fan of marriage, but you and Brandon are so adorable.”

  Claire rolls her eyes again—they are beginning to resemble a slot machine. Gina sighs and continues, “Besides, any distraction is better than work. Our recruiting slogan could be, “Join us on the barge to hell—when a hand basket just won’t do.”

  I rise from my desk to halt Gina’s forthcoming rant, and grab my purse, which I have located, right next to my feet. “Hey, at least we all get to take turns being the captain. Let’s get out of here before someone comes in to report a stolen stapler.”

  If only this place were as stable as “Office Space.”

  We arrive at our favorite Italian restaurant, just minutes from the office. The waitress spots us and plasters a big smile on her face. I am never sure if she likes us or if she is trying hard to like us. I know it’s very shocking, but we can get a little loud, especially Gina. Even little Bridezilla has her moments.

  “So what’s new in wedding planning hell…I mean heaven?” Gina begins with a smile, but Claire is not amused.

  “I’m just so glad I hired you.” Claire playfully sticks out her tongue.

  “Okay, ladies let’s behave in public.” I am the peacekeeper in every area of work. Like Gandhi. I should be wearing flowing robes and chanting mantras.

  At least work is the only place full of conflict. At home with Steve, everything is blissful. He is the easiest guy to get along with. So even keeled and level-headed. When I say “home,” I am referring to my home. He spends a lot of time at my place. It’s convenient to work for both of us, and I have cats, so I don’t spend much time at his place. Actually, very little.

  “…we want something casual because of the pool party reception, so I think this church will work.” Claire is showing Gina her proposed wedding site on her iPad. No wonder she needs such a big purse.

  “Oh yeah, those nondenominational churches are great. NOT that I am saying I would get married again, but if I did I would have to go that route, too. We divorced Catholic girls have no other choice.” Gina purses her lips and takes a sip of her diet Coke.

  Claire starts waving her hands around. “Yes, they are SO accepting! They would marry two gay Satanist dogs.”

  I spit my iced tea all over my bread plate, and they both turn to look at me, bursting into a fit of giggles. I catch the waitress’ eye across the room and she shakes her head, as if we are a bunch of silly teenagers instead of professional middle-aged women.

  Claire wipes her eyes and sighs. “So Rebecca, what’s new with you? Tonight is the big one year for you and Steve, right?”

  She turns to Gina and says, “Yesterday was one year for Brandon and me. We got together right after the big launch party last year, and Rebecca and Steve the day after, right?” She looks at me and adds, “He was your date and you had just met him.”

  Before I can respond, Gina jumps in. “By ‘got together’ you mean it’s the anniversary of the first time you slept with these guys. Am I right?”

  “Wow, yes. It’s funny that’s how we mark anniversaries these days. My mother would pull her hair out if she heard this conversation,” Claire replies. Her mother is conservative, whereas mine is a lot older, but was a wild woman in her day. Or so I hear. Yuck.

  “Yep, that party was a launching pad for more than one thing.” I propose a toast, and we all raise our glasses to our sexy anniversaries.

  We order lunch, and when our food finally arrives, Gina starts picking at her salad. I think I am the only woman I know who actually eats. And forget pintsized Claire—hopefully Justice or Gap Kids sells wedding dresses. My pasta is steaming, and the sauce is rosy and mouthwatering.

  Gina begins, “So, Rebecca, how did you and Steve meet?”

  I recount the story of meeting Steve in the singles Meetup group at a wine tasting event. It was the weekend before the launch party that celebrated signing Brandon and another new author to our lit fic imprint. Steve was cute and funny, and kept mocking the pretentious wine people by swirling the liquid in his glass extra deliberately, and peering at it closely over the rim of his glasses. He whispered obnoxious responses to the wine guy’s comments in my ear, and I was hooked. Plus he’s cute (did I mention that?) with his thick light brown hair and strong, but not monstrous, build. Then there’s the hair on his chest…

  “He sounds great. I love a man who can make me laugh. I should probably join this singles group of yours.” Gina has been avoiding my attempts to drag her to events, but she would love it. She’s been at Bella Donna for a year now, and only divorced for two. Recently, she’s gotten friendlier with me and Claire, and has begun talking about meeting someone new.

  Claire pipes in. “You should do it, Gina. I joined before Brandon and I got togeth…met. There were a lot of nice people, but some odd ones, too. Remember Chris, Rebecca? I actually did help her with a makeover. I can’t let a woman run around town without some makeup on her face and a proper hairstyle.” Claire’s perfectly adorned appearance and golden locks confirm her interest in this community service.

  “Yep, I see her all the time.” I turn to Gina and explain, “She was dying to date Steve. I just laid low and ignored her. Luckily I was able to get to know him as a friend, while continuing to date a few ‘weirdos from the Internet,’ as Claire likes to call them.”

  We take a break from my story to reminisce about the weirdos. Claire has an especially impressive list, including the “old man with the hat” and the “new age leather thong guy.” Even Gina can’t top Claire’s tales of dating woe, and she’s twice divorced, with a twelve-year-old son.

  We’re getting ready to pay the check and leave, but Gina’s curiosity steers her back to my story. “So do you guys split your time going back and forth between houses? I had to do that when I was dating my second husband because of little Vinnie. I went to Andrew’s house when Vinnie was with his father. What a pain in the ass that was, carting all my crap back and forth.”

  I dig in my purse for my credit card, as I sense two sets of pretty brown eyes upon me.

  Claire clears her throat. “Should I say it for you?”

  I roll my eyes and scowl. “Whatever.”

  Gina may blow up from anticipation. “Oh, this sounds juicy.”

  I nod at Claire and she continues. “Rebecca has only been to Steve’s house the first night they slept together a year ago, and one time after that. They spend all their time at Rebecca’s place. Right?”

  “Why?” Gina leans forward as if she expects me to tell her that Steve lives in a trash can or a tent under a highway overpass. “I guess your house must be cleaner than your office.” She smiles at me, but then frowns when I don’t return her gesture.

  “Rebecca is uncomfortable in Steve’s house. Steve’s a widower.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Is that hard for you?”

  “Rebecca?” I guess Claire doesn’t want to share the whole story, but neither do I.

  “We really need to get back to the office.” I take a deep breath. “She was killed in a cycling accident. Let’s just say the house hasn’t been cleaned out yet, and it isn’t very healthy for me to be there.”

  “Cleaned out? Do you mean…?” Gina’s eyes widen.

  I lose my composure and blurt out, “Her stuff is all over the goddamned house! Pictures of them, smiling on the walls. In the bedroom. I found her deodorant in the bathroom. It’s been two years.” I’m almost shrieking now, and the waitress is coming over to collect her money and get us out of here before I scare the other diners.

  Gina clicks her tongue a
nd sighs. “Oh, Sweetie. I don’t know if this guy is ready for a relationship. In my experience—”

  The waitress interrupts by swiftly grabbing our credit cards and the check from the table.

  I watch her walk away, and lean back in the booth. “Gina, I know you mean well, but Steve is a wonderful man and I adore him. He treats me well and he is willing to come to my place. I know I’m avoiding the issue, but for now this is the perfect set-up. I’m in no rush to settle down.”

  Claire starts packing up her iPad and wedding magazines, raising an eyebrow at Gina. “Let’s get back to the office. Gina, I need to show you a new manuscript I received yesterday. It looks promising and I want your opinion.”

  Gina relents and lets the conversation shift away from me and my seemingly dysfunctional situation.

  On the short ride back to the office, I stare out the window of Gina’s Mini-Cooper and daydream. Steve will mess up my hair tonight, and tell me I look beautiful. I’ll tell him about Harriet, the crazy toilet paper lady. He’ll laugh and his eyes will sparkle with the little crinkles at the edges. As long as we stay away from that house, he is who I need him to be.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I arrive at The Crab Cracker a few minutes early and take the opportunity to check my Blackberry one last time. I didn’t have time to go home and change, so I’m wearing my corporate uniform of a pink button down oxford shirt and a black pencil skirt with sensible black pumps. I have this outfit in every color combination available. I save fashion for my off hours.

  The work crazies seem to be quiet now. Luckily, the biggest complainers are the nine-to-fivers, and they need to get home to watch Judge Judy or take their kids to baton twirling practice.

  I pay the guy in the parking lot, and spot Steve. My heart still does a little flutter when I see him. He is sitting on the quaint outdoor patio, complete with a pretty awning and cobblestones beneath the tables. The waitress is chatting away and he is smiling and nodding at her. In the past I might have felt a twinge of jealousy witnessing such an exchange, especially when I was dating Luke, but Steve is different. His heart is pure gold and I know where his loyalties lie.