Free Read Novels Online Home

Little Broken Things by Nicole Baart (4)

LIZ

THE COMMERCIALS LIED. None of those artificial glass cleaners could come close to the power of vinegar and newspaper. A little warm water in a bucket, a tangy splash of vinegar that probably should have put her in mind of pickles but instead made Liz think: clean. She had a special cloth that she reserved for this purpose alone; hand-washed weekly so that it would never become sullied by detergents or coated in buildup from the Island Fresh Gain fabric softener that she liked to use on her sheets. All Liz had to do was dip the cloth in the vinegar water, scrub the window one pane at a time, and then dry the streaks with a handful of crumpled newspaper. Usually the Key Lake Gazette, which wasn’t good for anything else anyway.

Liz Sanford’s windows sparkled.

So did the lens of her telescope.

It wasn’t hers, not really. It had been Jack Sr.’s before the day less than two years ago when he claimed he had a twinge of heartburn and died in his leather La-Z-Boy while Liz washed the supper dishes. By hand, of course. Only people who didn’t care about the state of their china would dare to use a dishwasher.

She felt guilty sometimes. Guilty for sending Jack to his office with a Tums in hand and then humming to herself as she lathered the two Crown Ducal Bristol-Blue dinner plates they had used for what would be Jack’s last meal. Guilty because Liz didn’t check on him until almost twenty minutes later, when the silver was nestled in the drawer and the Waterford crystal wineglasses had been placed in their designated spots in the reclaimed-barn-wood hutch. By that time he was already cool to the touch.

The grief counselor (her physician had insisted she see him—Liz had only gone twice) assured her that it wasn’t her fault. Nor could she blame the rib eye they had enjoyed that night. The diced potatoes she had crisped in butter and bacon fat. The warm white bread that her husband had torn off in hunks and dredged through the drippings the steak left behind.

Jack Sr. was the picture of health before he suddenly wasn’t. He had never been corpulent or breathless or sweaty, all things that would have repulsed Liz. In fact, he’d been tall, quite trim. He even had a full head of tawny hair when he died—though his tidy goatee was more silver than gold. Jack’s death taught Liz that sometimes the surface is not an accurate indicator of what lies beneath. Sometimes these things just happen. There’s no way to know. No way to predict.

No one to blame.

Liz didn’t go back to the grief counselor because she decided that she didn’t blame herself. Guilt was a sneaky emotion, a scavenger that fed on scraps meant for the burn pile, and she managed it quickly when it reared its ugly head. Liz had been a good wife. Of that there was no doubt. Jack was her king and his home was a castle, neat and spotless, the decor so subtle, so tasteful that Liz sometimes stopped with her fingertips on the slate slab counter because she was overcome by the synergy of her own design. Good lines, soothing colors, leather and wood and earth and stone. But Liz also knew the power of fire, and her fabrics were a spark of inspiration in the most unusual of places. Carnelian and tangerine, indigo and pink stirred so soft it looked like the raspberry sorbet she had loved as a girl.

Liz wasn’t an artist—she would never stoop so low as to call herself that—but she was artful. In her kitchen, in her garden, in her bedroom. When Quinn eloped and Liz could hardly breathe for the disappointment, she mustered up one piece of advice and handed it to her daughter like an ill-suited gift.

“Never say no,” Liz whispered, hugging her daughter stiffly, pretending that all was well and would be well when she knew that it would not.

“What?” Quinn tried to pull away but Liz held tight, bony arms pressing the lush curves of her youngest close.

“If he . . . wants you, don’t ever turn him down.” It was advice her own mother had given her, and Liz followed it with religious fervor. If her daughter was disgusted by the sudden intimacy of her counsel, Liz didn’t care. She knew how to keep a husband happy—in a dozen different but equally important ways. And though she doubted the unfortunate union between her baby and that artist would last long, she couldn’t entirely abandon her offspring.

It was this singular dedication to the fruit of her womb that absolved Liz of any guilt she felt when she bowed her head over the telescope and peeked in on Quinn and Walker from her vantage point across the lake. From what Liz could tell, Quinn had taken her advice to heart—even if she had blushed crimson and hurried away when Liz had given it. Not that Liz needed or even wanted to know details. She was no voyeur and quickly took up her dust rag, her vacuum, her apron at the slightest indication that things were turning romantic across the lake.

If only she could peek in on Jack Jr. and Nora as easily as she looked after Quinn. Liz had never exactly been the mother-hen type, but she did love her kids. And she liked to offer her advice when necessary.

Besides, it wasn’t all mere observation. Liz had learned something from her surveillance and it justified what others might consider untoward. It seemed, after just a few months of haphazard examination, that her daughter and son-in-law had two settings: together and apart. Together was cover-ups abandoned on the deck, doors half-closed, hair disheveled. Apart was Walker in the boathouse and Quinn, alone.

They would never last.

What would Jack say if he could peer through the telescope? What would he think of Liz’s impetuous decision to offer the unlikely couple the swankiest lake rental they owned? Most important, what would Jack do? But though she fretted over this question at night, propped in the very middle of her now practically obscene king-sized four-poster bed, night creams and wrinkle emollients making her skin as slick and shiny as an oil spill, Liz was baffled.

She had spent three-quarters of her life with him, but she had absolutely no idea what Jack Sr. would do.

Besides, of course, keeping tabs on his daughter through the antique telescope that was ostensibly purchased for bird-watching.

In some ways, Liz thought of the telescope as her husband’s legacy. It was more meaningful than the rental properties that were scattered around the lake or even the contents of Jack’s safety deposit box. Liz had always known the box existed, but never officially saw it until the week after the funeral when she entered the Key Lake Union Bank as the newly widowed Mrs. Sanford, key to the mysterious repository in hand. There wasn’t much inside. A copy of their will, Jack’s father’s class ring set with an emerald that Liz was sure was authentic. But at the very bottom, Liz was shocked to find a letter that she had written nearly forty years before. It was a love letter of sorts, though Liz wasn’t sure it could be called that since it lacked the usual frippery of such correspondence. She did not dot her is with hearts or tell Jack that she loved him. It was really quite matter-of-fact, a note passed in their senior world history class that informed him of a party that weekend and her wish that he would attend. With her.

It was the beginning. Liz had forgotten that she had been the one to start it all.

How bold.

Liz liked herself a little more, remembering.

And she liked the way she felt when she put her eye to the telescope for the very first time, less than a week after Jack had passed. Liz hadn’t bothered with it before, but now that her husband was gone it felt like something that she should do. After all, Jack had once spotted a house fire through that telescope. He’d called 9-1-1 before anyone else even realized what was happening. Another time he spied a stranded boat that had dropped a propeller, and then rescued the family himself. Their telescope was a service to the lake. Their telescope. But now it was hers.

Liz took to it quickly. In fact, she rarely walked through the living room without pausing for a gander, a tiny hit that strengthened her ties to the small lakeside community. She was just a part of the tapestry—much like a paisley flourish on the expensive fabric she designed—doing what she could to ensure the peace and stability of the place that she called home.

And Liz was performing this important task late one evening as she headed to bed, wrapped in a silk robe embroidered with trailing orchids and sipping an herbal tea that her nutritionist swore would erase crow’s-feet while she slept. It was just a teensy peek, a moment of curiosity that should have yielded nothing more than the faint glow of bedside lamps between the drawn shades of nearly every home around Key Lake.

But instead of being greeted by the orange flicker of the occasional bonfire on the rocky shoreline, Liz found her gaze yanked to the A-frame where Quinn and Walker lived. All the lights in the boathouse were on (not unusual) but the cabin was black (very unusual). Even more alarming was the flicker of headlights through the trees as a car pulled down the long gravel driveway away from the house. It was that ridiculous purple Kia Quinn and Walker owned.

Apart.

Liz glanced at the clock above the mantel. Almost 10:00 p.m. She didn’t know whether to be happy or concerned that Quinn was leaving her husband at such an odd hour, but she did know that something had taken root in her chest. It was a fledgling thing, a hope or a wish or a fear so thin and gauzy it didn’t yet have an object or even a name. Liz straightened up quickly and smoothed her silky robe. Smiled.

Something was about to change.

Search

Search

Friend:

Popular Free Online Books

Read books online free novels

Hot Authors

Sam Crescent, Zoe Chant, Flora Ferrari, Mia Madison, Lexy Timms, Claire Adams, Alexa Riley, Sophie Stern, Elizabeth Lennox, Leslie North, Amy Brent, Madison Faye, Frankie Love, Jenika Snow, Jordan Silver, C.M. Steele, Michelle Love, Mia Ford, Kathi S. Barton, Delilah Devlin, Dale Mayer, Bella Forrest, Sloane Meyers, Amelia Jade, Zoey Parker,

Random Novels

Executive Engagement: A Boardroom to Bedroom Fake Fiancee Romance by Alexis Angel

The Wright Mistake by K.A. Linde

Dax by Shannyn Leah

Apollyon (Covenant) by Armentrout, Jennifer L.

Spread (A Club Deep Story) by Penny Wylder

The Billionaire and the Bartender: Aidan's story (The Billionaires Book 2) by Gisele St. Claire

Beastly: An Mpreg Romance (The Greaves Brothers Book 1) by Crista Crown

Exiled (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 4) by Laura Marie Altom

Souls Unchained (Blood & Bone Book 2) by C.C. Wood

Casual: Part 4 (Power Play Series Book 12) by Kelly Harper

Blindsided: Renegades 7 (The Renegades Series) by Melody Heck Gatto

How To Tempt A Crook (Crooked In Love Book 1) by Linda Verji

Then. Now. Always. by Isabelle Broom

by Ava Mason

Marriage of Inconvenience (Knitting in the City Book 7) by Penny Reid

Small Town SEAL's Saving Grace: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 45) by Flora Ferrari

Buying Beth: A Dark Romance (Disciples Book 3) by Izzy Sweet, Sean Moriarty

Taming Elijah (The Kincaids Book 1) by Stacy Reid

Beat of the Heart by Katie Ashley

About Forever (Just About Series, #3) by Lexy Timms