Page 70 of Little Empty Promises

“You’re wrong.Itismy fault.You don’t understand.”

“I’d like to understand, if you’re up to talking to me.”

Mack placed a hand on her shoulder.“You don’t have to do this right now, all right?”

“Yes, I do,” she said.“I should have done it in the beginning, the night Cordelia was murdered.I was a coward then.I won’t be a coward now.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” I said.

“If I do, you’ll never see me the same way again, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m a lot more understanding than most people think,” I said.“And I’m a good listener.”

A tear trailed down her cheek, and she flicked it away.

“It’s obvious you’ve been keeping something in,” I said.“I’ve done it myself, on more than one occasion.I can tell you from personal experience, it won’t get any better until you get it out.”

“You’re right.I’ve been keeping something from everyone because of the shame I feel about it.I saw someone in the library on the day Cordelia died, someone who didn’t fit in.”

“In what way didn’t the person fit in?”

She looked me in the eye, frowning as she said, “In every possible way.”

29

Samantha invited me inside, and I walked with her and Mack to the kitchen.I sat down on a barstool, and she turned toward her husband, saying, “I believe I’m going to need a cocktail for this conversation.”

“Anything you want, honey,” he said.“What’s it going to be?”

“I’ll have my usual.”

He nodded and turned his attention to me.“What about you?We have wine, beer, gin, tea, coffee, soda … and water, of course.”

Given I was planning on heading home after our visit, to wind down and enjoy a couple of drinks with Giovanni, I kept it simple and asked for a glass of water.

Mack stopped as he passed by Samantha, bending toward her and planting a kiss on her forehead.She gave his hand a squeeze, and then he proceeded to open one of the kitchen cabinets, whistling as he said, “One strawberry margarita, coming right up.”

While the cocktail was being made, Samantha sat down next to me.I was hoping she would continue the conversation we’d been having before, but she went quiet.It was possible she was trying to work up the nerve to continue what she’d started.And although I didn’t want to push, I was tired, and I had little gas left in my peopling tank.

We chitchatted about topics of no consequence, and then Mack brought over her cocktail.She put the straw in her mouth and sipped and sipped and sipped, finishing half of it.Then she set the glass on the counter.“Mack, would you mind leaving the two of us alone for a few minutes, honey?”

Based on his furrowed brow, he did mind—and not just a little—a lot.

“I’d like to stay,” he said.“I believe it would be for the best.Don’t you agree?”

“I understand why, but I’ll be fine,” she said.“I promise.”

He stood there for a long second, not saying anything.Then he did as she asked, exiting the kitchen and making sure she knew he would be in the den if she needed anything.

When Mack was out of earshot, Samantha said, “I’ve told Mack what I’m about to tell you, but I didn’t give him much in the way of details.”

I considered telling her to take her time, but in truth, all I wanted was for it to come out.The faster, the better.

“What is it you need to tell me?”I asked.

She downed the rest of the margarita, slid off the barstool, and took the glass to the kitchen sink.Turning on the faucet, she rinsed it off, and put it in the dishwasher.Then she opened a cupboard and grabbed a shot glass and a bottle of tequila.She poured a single shot and offered me one.

I declined.

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