Violet leaned back in the computer chair and stretched her arms up over her head. She needed a break. She had spent the entire morning and half of the afternoon cleaning the house again in preparation of Alex’s arrival, and then the rest of the day she had been working on volume eight of the Manolo’s Secret series that she had been writing for six long years now. When she wrote her first book, there was no way she had ever dreamed it would really get published. But after her book proposal was rejected by nearly three dozen agents, Christopher Fontaine had come to her rescue. He had started out as a small-time agent, but over the years, he had become quite a success, and “It all started with you!” he liked to remind her from time to time. Christopher had worked his ass off to find a publisher willing to take a chance on a first time author. But in the long run, his diligent work had paid off, and now here she was, working on book eight of a successful series that had recently hit the bestseller’s list. She couldn’t help but feel proud of what she had accomplished, and even though she had enough money to leave her part-time job at the library, she loved her co-workers and couldn’t imagine giving up her position there anytime soon. Books were an integral part of her life, and there was rarely a time she could ever remember a day going by without reading or writing.
Violet loved writing and reading books more than anything. She grew up poor, and one of the greatest highlights of her life was taking weekly trips to the library with her grandmother. Her mother had died in a car crash when she was a baby, and her father was too busy getting drunk to take care of her half the time, so Granny Alice was the closest thing to a parent she had.
Granny Alice did not have much, but she treated what she did have as though it were gold. She lived in a one-bedroom, shotgun house in the middle of a dead-end street, three doors down from Michael’s parents’ gorgeous, old Victorian home. Granny’s house stood out like a sore thumb with its minute size and rickety paneling, but she was not the kind of woman who concerned herself with others’ perceptions; since childhood, she had encouraged Violet to worry only about her own self-image. “We may all look different on the outside, Violet, but if you lift the skin and peek underneath, we’re all the same. So, never think that you’re better, Violet. And most certainly do not ever think that you’re worse,” she would say over and over again; it was always like she was telling her the first time.
Every Saturday, Granny took Violet to the library to check out a new book. Some of Violet’s greatest memories were of sitting on the porch, drinking iced tea, and reading aloud to her grandmother. “You read marvelously, Violet,” she would always say. “Please tell me what happens next.”
Violet would sit there and read all day if Granny would let her. It wasn’t until she became older that she asked Granny why she didn’t read herself. That day, Violet was shocked to discover that her grandmother had never learned to read. From that day forward, she was determined to teach her grandmother how to read, and she would never forget the way her grandmother’s eyes lit up with enormous pride when she checked out her very own book at the library. Violet remembered the day just like it was yesterday, and her chest felt tight as she remembered saying, “You read marvelously, Granny. Please tell me what happens next.”
Violet saved her work and shut down the computer. Writing had been difficult lately. With all the newfound drama in her life, one would think she could sit and write for days, but that wasn’t the case. Christopher had been calling daily to inquire about her progress on the book, and she had been dodging his calls left and right. She was nowhere near done, and she didn’t feel like hearing him bitch.
Violet headed up to the second floor and stared at the bed she shared with Alex. He wouldn’t be pleased when he found out she had converted his storage area in the attic into a spare bedroom. But then she realized it was silly to worry about getting upset over a bedroom when what he really needed to be angry about was the new man that had been occupying the bed itself.
The curtains were drawn, and she decided to open them to let in some natural light. It was a lovely day, and here she was cooped up in this old, creepy house. As old and creepy as it was, she knew she would live here forever. She had adored this place since she was a little girl. Granny and Violet used to pass by it every Sunday on their way to church, and sometimes they would stop and park across the street on their way home just so they could look up the hill and admire the old place. Violet knew her grandmother loved Dr. Middleton’s house, probably because her tiny little house was such the polar opposite of a grand place like that. She vowed to buy it for her grandmother one day, but Granny had been dead for nearly eight years now—a deadly combination of Alzheimer’s and lung cancer.
“I hope you’re here with me, Granny,” Violet whispered. For some reason, that thought cheered her up. She changed her shoes and decided to head into town.
Alex would be home tomorrow, and today she was meeting Michael at the Filmont Inn. It seems rather tacky and cliché to meet at a hotel, but so is having an affair with a married man, she thought. Earlier in the week she had received a cryptic message in her inbox; it was an odd reminder for a “business date” with Michael Sinclair at the Filmont Inn. Violet did not respond to the strange message, as she suspected Michael sent it written in such a way that if his wife examined his inbox, their plans would seem nothing more than a casual work encounter. Violet had decided to go ahead and meet him. She couldn’t help but want to spend the night with him despite her better judgment, since it was the last night they would have an opportunity to do so before Alex returned.
Violet had made another decision of her own. After tonight, she was going to tell Michael she wanted him to be happy, and if that meant losing him, then she would just have to accept it. She had decided she needed to cut him off and make a go at her own marriage while he figured out what he wanted to do about his own engagement and current predicament. After hearing his story the other night, she realized the importance of their actions. She never wanted to cause him the kind of pain he had endured from his first wife, and who was she to stand in the way of Elijah having a stepmother and family he so deserved?
If Michael wanted to leave Penelope, then he would have to do it for his own reasons, and the same went for her and Alex’s marriage. If it was meant to be, then they would be together again in the future. More than ever, she was certain her love for Michael was above and beyond anything she had ever felt for another human being. She was more than happy just loving him from a distance if it meant never having to see him cry or hurt the way he had the other night.
Violet locked the back door and squeezed behind the wheel of her Geo Tracker. She wanted something special to wear tonight when she met him at the hotel. It had been so long since she had purchased anything new for herself, and she felt almost giddy as she slowly descended the hill and headed into town. Even though tonight was going to be bittersweet, she could not wait to see Michael again. She wanted simply to rest her head upon his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body and silkiness of the hair on his chest. Even when they were apart, she felt so sure about her love for him. I must be crazy, she thought. No man has ever made me act this lovesick and girly before, but Michael Sinclair just has a way with the ladies, I suppose. She smiled.
In town, she selected a sleek, black dress with lacy trim and low neckline. She also chose a flimsy negligee to conceal underneath the dress and a racy pair of black kitten heels. It had been so long since she had last indulged in a shopping spree, but she had never felt so sexy or alive, and everything she slipped on seemed to somehow fit so perfectly today. The entire day seemed perfect, and she was antsy with excitement about her evening plans with Michael. She stepped out of the store and into the sunlight. It was gorgeous today, and Violet felt certain that nothing could spoil the day ahead.