Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
I picked up the heavy leather notebook from the hall table and tucked it under my arm, the cool gold of my wedding band pressing against the dark leather.
Sable’s white sports car was gone from the driveway when we walked through the iron gates of the River Oaks estate. The front door was unlocked, the brass handle cold and loose under my hand.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet foyer, the smell of dust and empty rooms rising to meet us. On the sideboard, the silver coffee pot sat in the shadows, its polished surface beginning to tarnish in the damp Texas air.
Sable staring at the marble floor in absolute silence.
By two o’clock, the silence had moved with us back to the River Oaks house.
I sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, watching Nathan fold a stack of Gordon’s old leather-bound journals into a cardboard box. His hands, usually so steady when he drew up his architectural blueprints, were clumsy as he pulled a long strip of plastic tape from the dispenser.
