Page 26 of Deathtoll
He shook his head. And because he didn’t want to dump his frustrations on her, he turned out of the room, but her voice stopped him before he could take a second step.
“I’m just organizing stuff for now. But a pickup and another pair of hands would be nice when I get to the stage of moving things out.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Okay.”
Her gaze was nothing if not conflicted.
Conflicted was good, right? Murph reasoned as he walked away.Conflictedwasn’tdecided. She thought maybe they shouldn’t be with each other, but she wasn’t sure. He just had to find a way to change her mind, make her see how good they were together.
Aaand…there he went sounding like a freaking stalker.
If she decided to quit the relationship for good, he would have to accept the verdict. He would have to respect her choice. Otherwise, he’d be just another asshole ex-boyfriend in a world of asshole ex-boyfriends. And if he knew one thing for sure, he knew this: she deserved better.
If worse came to worst, he was going to have to find the strength to walk away from her, dammit. Even if it killed him.
* * *
Kate
Holy mocha truffles.
Kate looked after Murph, not sure if she should cry or curse, a mix of emotions pulling her down like quicksand. She wanted to move past this stage, had been trying to come out on the other side with some clarity, but clarity kept eluding her.
All right. Was she going to be a wallowing-in-stupidity person or a solutions person? She was going to be a solutions person, dammit.
She jumped up and strode down the hallway. Maybe Maria had a minute.
Her phone rang as she turned the corner. Her mother.
“It’s unfortunate that men reach the age when they start snoring like banshees at the same time as their wives reach menopause,” Ellie Bridges said without preamble.
“Everything okay with you and Dad?”
“It’d be fine, if I could sleep.Murder for snoringshould be a legitimate legal defense. Like crime of passion, and not guilty by reason of insanity.”
“You scare me sometimes.” Kate stopped walking. “Why don’t you and Dad come up for the Mushroom Festival? I miss you. Emma misses you.”
“Say the daughters who abandoned me.”
“We didn’t abandon you. We flew the nest. You raised us to be capable, independent women.”
“Mmmm.”
“Your wedding anniversary is in two weeks. You could make it an anniversary trip. The bed-and-breakfast just opened a brand-new honeymoon suite. Let me reserve it for you as a gift. The house used to belong to a guy who made glass eyes for World War Two veterans. There are eyes in jars still on the shelves.” Historical military curiosities were her father’s weakness.
“What’s in it for me?” her mother grumbled.
“Days of uninterrupted adoration from your daughters. Also, the B and B was the scene of a kidnapping this spring.” Her mother was a mystery novel buff.
“Ghosts?”
“Possibly. I swear the last time I was in there, one of the glass eyes winked at me.” And then Kate thought of something that would seal the deal. “Shannon, the owner, serves shoofly pie with Sunday tea.”
“Maybe we could pop up for the weekend.” Then, apropos of nothing, she added, “I’m growing a mustache.”
Okay?“Is that another…”
“Menopause bullshit. Yes.”
