Sisters of the Vine by Linda Rosen

Author:Linda Rosen [Rosen, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 38

“Where did you find that?” Rick said, looking at the photo Liz had just shoved in his face. He was seated in the wing chair in the living room with his feet on the ottoman, beer in hand, relaxing after what he’d complained was a grueling week at Survival Camp. Liz stood next to him with a strong grip on the picture. He reached to take it from her. She pulled her arm back and held it tight to her chest. Her husband’s rapid blinking, as if he was totally confused by what he’d seen, didn’t fool her one bit.

“In the box you hid in the barn,” Liz answered, staring him straight in the eyes. Thunder rumbled outside. Rain poured. Liz held the photograph out again. “Who is she?”

Rick lowered his head, averting her gaze, then up again laying his eyes directly on her. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t even remember her name – just some girl I met when I visited my mother. Remember, you insisted I go?”

“Yes, and I also remember you didn’t want to go and then all of a sudden you changed your mind, like it was a great idea. So, Richard,” she said, shaking the picture at him. “Who is she?”

“Honestly, hon. I didn’t even know I had that picture. You say it was in the box?” He lifted a shoulder again, so nonchalantly it made Liz’s blood boil. “My mother’s aide must have thought it was important and put it in with all the stuff she sent me. I don’t even remember the photo being taken. There were so many times the women at the condo wanted a picture with me.” He looked like a peacock strutting its feathers. “They claimed my mother would love it.”

“Right,” Liz said. “Sure.” A quiver ran through her stomach. “And you expect me to believe that?”

“Sweetheart. Please. It was all flirtatious. All those ladies loved having me around.”

“And all those ladies would be seventy, Richard. Your mother lived in a senior community. This one,” she said, pushing her finger against the woman’s face several times, “isn’t even thirty.” A flash of lightning streamed through the window, illuminating the image.

“She must have been someone’s daughter,” Rick said. “Yeah . . . yeah, I remember now. Mom’s neighbor had her daughter living with her. Right. That’s who she is. And she wanted a picture under that palm tree. It was a real pretty tree right alongside the pool. And I remember her taking the photo out of the Polaroid. I thought she kept it.” He shrugged again. “Guess not.”

With a sour, bitter tang in her mouth, Liz turned her back to Rick. She had to walk away, had to regain her composure, or, like Vesuvius, she’d blow. She went into the bedroom. Rick’s sneakers were on the floor smack in her way. She kicked the right one, then the left. It hit the wall. She left his

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