"Jill. Jill Richardson."
"Nice to meet you, Jill. You come out here often?"
Jill nodded. "Nearly everyday. When the weather's good."
"Lunch break?"
"Yes, one to two."
Carrie nodded. "I usually come around one myself. It's too crowded during the noon hour,
especially on gorgeous days like today." She pointed to the lake. "I was actually hoping
someone would take a paddleboat or canoe out. I love sketching the lake when it's calm like
this."
"But you do more than sketch. I saw you with an easel the other day."
"I use mostly chalk or charcoal if I'm not painting with water-colors. That's my favorite.
And on the few occasions I feel daring, I play with acrylic or oils but not often." She
shrugged. "It's just a hobby, really. I could always sketch but I've taken classes for
watercolors and other mediums."
"Well, nice hobby to have. It must be relaxing." Jill motioned back to her park bench. "But
I'm cutting into your time. I'll let you get back to it."
"Maybe it's me who is cutting into your time," Carrie said with a laugh. "It was nice to meet
you, Jill. Thanks for being the subject for my sketch."
"Any time."
Jill walked back to her bench, her sandwich long forgotten. She couldn't shake the feeling
that their meeting was somehow preordained. Although she knew she'd never met Carrie
Howell before, the familiarity of her eyes indicated otherwise. Jill would swear she'd
stared into them before.
As she drove back to her tiny office on Oak Street, she replayed her meeting with Carrie,
trying in vain to recall a time when she may have possibly run into the woman before.
Nothing would come to her, so she simply attributed it to one of those déjà vu feelings you
could never explain.
But she felt certain she would see Carrie Howell again.
CHAPTER THREE
Jill drove into her driveway at exactly five twenty, the same time she got home every day.
Their modest home was in an older neighborhood, the huge trees indicating the age of most
of the houses. Some of the older homes had been torn down and replaced with newer,
upscale versions but the trees remained. She and Craig had bought the home shortly after
they'd married. His parents had been kind enough to give them the down payment. Right.
She knew now that it had simply been their way of controlling them. She and Craig, both
just out of college, both teaching at the same high school, had hardly had the funds for a
house. But his parents found just the perfect house for them. And as an added bonus, it
wasn't even a block from their own.
Jill rolled her eyes, wondering why she'd allowed it in the first place. But the truth was,
she'd fallen in love with the two-story house, the big trees, the huge yard, the quiet
neighborhood. So it seemed a blessing at the time when they offered the down payment.
She just had no idea they'd be involved in their life as much as they were.
She parked her car in the driveway well to the right to give Craig room to pull in his truck.
The two-car garage was packed, with room for only one vehicle. Craig's new truck meant
Jill had to park her old Subaru outside now. It had seen some years but she couldn't bear
to part with it, not when gas prices were what they were and she was getting well over
thirty miles to the gallon. She raised a corner of her mouth in a smile and raised her
eyebrows. But it wasn't like she went anywhere. Back and forth to work, back and forth to
town, hauling Angie around. She hadn't taken a real trip in years. In fact, they'd not even
gone on a vacation since Angie was ten. The older Angie grew, the more activities she
seemed to be involved in. Activities that took up most of the summer.
She was barely in the kitchen door when her daughter ran into the room, a scowl on her
face as she placed both hands on her hips. It was a gesture Jill used to find amusing,
knowing Angie had picked it up from her over the years, but now it was simply annoying.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Yes, I know exactly what time it is. It's the same time I get home every day."
"Mom, I had a study group meeting at Shelly's house. We have a biology project we're
working on."
"Why didn't you ask your grandmother to take you?" Jill asked as she opened the fridge
and pulled out a bottle of water, absently wondering what she'd fix for dinner tonight.
"Grandma always has to take me places. Why can't you take me?"
"I work until five every day, Angie, you know that. If you need to be somewhere before
then, ask your grandmother. You're at her house after school anyway."
"She shouldn't have to take me all the time. She's not my mother."
Jill closed her eyes for a moment. Apparently her mother-in-law was in one of her moods.
It was on those occasions she preached to Angie how terrible it was that Jill didn't teach
school anymore, how horrible it was that she had to work until five, well past the time her
only child was home from school.
But Jill would not argue with her fourteen-year-old daughter.
"Okay, let's go," she said.
"Go where?"
"To your study group."
"It's too late now, Mom."
"Then why are we having this conversation?"
"You just don't get it, do you?"
"Apparently not," she murmured. "Where's your father?"
"He's got a game tonight."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Do you know when he'll be home?"
"He's your husband, not mine."
Jill stared as her daughter walked out of the kitchen in the same huff she'd walked in.
Four more years of high school. Wonder if I can rent her out until she graduates?
"Probably not."
She'd been in this kind of mood for the last six months, since she'd started high school. It
was like someone flipped a switch. Her happy-go-lucky daughter had turned into the bitch
from hell. And she knew her mother-in-law just egged her on, pointing out all of Jill's
failings as a mother. One being the fact that she quit the teaching job all those years ago,
a job which would have afforded her the opportunity to spend quality time with her
daughter each summer. The truth was, Jill quit teaching because she couldn't stand being
around teenagers when their hormones played havoc with their personalities. She was
afraid she'd never want to have children of her own after spending her days with them. So,
after only four years, she quit. She found a job as office manager for Tutt Construction
shortly thereafter and she'd been with them ever since. When old Mr. Tutt handed the
business over to his son eight years ago, Jill suddenly found herself with a nice raise and a
new assistant. Seems Johnny knew her worth and all she did, even though his father had
treated her—and paid her—as an entry level secretary. Jill kept the accounts organized,
kept everyone on schedule and handled all the advertising.
And now that she had an assistant, it was a relatively stress-free job that she left at five
each day and rarely thought of again until she arrived at eight the next morning. No, her
only stress now was a teenage daughter whose hormones had attacked her from within and
who got immense pleasure out of driving her mother insane.
It'll pass. Words Craig had used just the other night. The problem was, Craig was hardly
home so he didn't notice the change in Angie. Unlike Jill, Craig loved teaching high school.
It kept him young, he said. It also kept him away from the house. Football in the fall,