Maybe after she’d taken care of Sean’s pictures and Sawyer was gone, she’d call her uncle while she was at the Berkeley house alone and try to devise a clever way to get some information out of him—if he had any information to give. She supposed it was possible he didn’t know they were more closely related than niece and uncle. For that matter, it was possible even her mother didn’t know. If Charlotte had been sleeping with both men at the same time, how would she?
Maybe that was how Charlotte had been able to distance herself from Vance. It could be that she’d slipped up once or twice, regretted her actions and refused to even consider the possibility that her pregnancy could be the result of those encounters when she’d been with her husband much more often.
The whole thing turns my stomach.
After she parked, she checked the time on her phone before climbing out and grabbing her overnight bag. She hadn’t left the cabin as early as she’d intended. Lucy had asked for pancakes, so she’d stayed to make them for her. She’d wanted to let Lorelei sleep in for a change. And Reagan wasn’t feeling well, so she couldn’t help with breakfast. Last night she’d said she had a terrible headache—hadn’t even gone to Finn’s when Serenity, Lucy and Lorelei headed over with dinner.
Serenity was glad she’d spent that time with her niece. It had been a nice morning. But now she had only a few hours until Sawyer arrived, and she planned to do some cleaning and organizing. She’d been so stressed about missing her deadline, and so depressed in the aftermath of Sean’s trial and all it had cost her financially and emotionally, that for all those months, she’d made herself stay on her computer instead of doing anything else, even though the words wouldn’t come, and she’d invariably switch over to social media to feel she was being productive.
As she opened the door to her little Victorian on Cedar Street, she was glad she’d given herself time to get it straightened up. Her former self would never have left it in such a mess. But going to Tahoe—staying there—had already done her a world of good. She was writing again. The relief that brought could not be overstated. Her editor had replied just this morning with a terse message letting her know that the publisher had agreed to move the release of All Gone to the following June, one year away.
She had the second chance she’d been hoping for. She planned to make the most of it, cling to that opportunity to the exclusion of all else, if necessary. She had to get back to building her career, find the confident, successful person she used to be and become that person once again.
Maybe she should sell this house, she thought as she put down her bag and closed the door. There were too many memories associated with it. None of Sean’s belongings were here anymore, with the possible exception of that childhood stuff Nina was going on about. Sawyer had boxed them up and taken them away. But Sean had been the one to find this place. They’d purchased and furnished it together. She’d never forget how excited they’d been when their offer was accepted and how they’d celebrated their first night in their new home. It was only a few years after that, once they’d felt more settled in their careers, that they’d started talking about having kids.
Had he already been viewing and selling child pornography at that point?
She tried to think back five years, when they’d bought the house—and came up empty. There was nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary. But if it hadn’t started then, when had it started? And why? What could’ve transformed someone who’d seemed to be such a warm and caring person into the worst kind of predator?
Sean had been so intent on denying that he’d ever done anything wrong he wouldn’t answer the questions that burned uppermost in her mind—how, when and why. Not honestly, anyway.
Most criminals didn’t care that they left their loved ones in turmoil, with no closure, the detective who’d investigated Sean’s case had told her. And Sean had proved him right. No matter how many times Serenity had implored her husband to talk to her, to help her understand, he’d just continued to deny it. He’d also tried to make her feel he was innocent and her insistence that he wasn’t cut him more deeply than she could imagine.
It was all about his suffering, not the suffering he’d caused. According to the detective, narcissism was another trait common among pedophiles. Dealing with Sean had made Serenity a believer.
With a heartfelt sigh, she went around the house, opening the windows. It was a gorgeous day—mild and breezy—and the house needed to be aired out. She didn’t want Sawyer to realize how badly off she’d been, that depression had taken such deep root she’d barely been able to pull her laptop into bed with her in the mornings.
She dusted and vacuumed, changed the linens on her bed and washed all the blankets. Sawyer wouldn’t see her room—there was nothing of Sean’s left in there—but knowing she had a clean house to return to might make it easier to face coming home after the summer.
Or maybe she’d take some photographs before heading back to the cabin in the morning. They’d be helpful if she decided to put the house up for sale while she was away. She didn’t need to be around in order to do that; it would actually be easier if she wasn’t. A Realtor could deal with all the showings. Then she could find a different house in Berkeley, or maybe even San Francisco, and start over. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wouldn’t move too far from Tahoe. Going there meant too much to her.
After she’d finished cleaning, she went out to buy a few groceries. The least she could do was feed Sawyer while he was over. She didn’t cook often, but her mother was excellent in the kitchen and had taught her a few meals she prepared whenever she entertained. She made excellent baba ghanoush—her mother had always grown eggplant. With pita bread for dipping, it would make a delicious starter, after which she’d serve a vegetable and tofu stir-fry. Paired with a nice wine and followed by a ready-made peach tart from Whole Foods, the meal should be a good one—a modest thank-you for Sawyer’s time. After tonight, she’d feel she’d done at least one small thing to repay him for everything he did during the trial.
She jumped into the shower after she received a text saying he’d be over by four.
Dressed in a pair of flowing, wide-legged pants with a short midriff-bearing sweater, she was stirring the tofu to make sure each piece was getting covered by the marinade when she heard his knock.
He was here. Her pulse quickened at the thought. She had no idea why. She hadn’t seen him for a while, but why would that make any difference?
She quickly covered the dish and went to the door.
He had his back to her when she first saw him through the window. He was leaning up against the pillar of her porch, gazing out at the rest of the neighborhood, and he was dressed far more casually than she was in a T-shirt and pair of faded jeans.
She realized she might’ve overdressed, but it was too late to change now.