fingernails. And she had fancied herself in love.
"I am going to find him," she said furiously, speaking between her teeth. "And when I do, I swear I am going to put a bullet between his lying eyes!"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me a widow before I get my money back," Clara said in a short, terse voice.
"And not before he explains everything," Juliette added.
Clara threw out her hands and gave Zoe an exasperated look. "She refuses to believe that he married us for the money!"
"If it was only money, then why didn't he take more?" Juliette glared at them. "I would have given him twice the amount he suggested. He could have waited until you sold your inn, Clara, and taken those funds, too. And you would have given him all your reward money plus your nest egg, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Zoe admitted, hating the truth of it.
"But I guess I do know it was mostly the money," Juliette admitted softly, blinking down at her cup and saucer. "I want to believe it wasn't only that. I want to believe he loved me a little, too. Maybe that's why he only took part of my money. In any case, he owes us an explanation. I need to hear the truth from his own lips."
At the mention of Jean Jacques's lips, they all fell silent, remembering feverish kisses on sweat-dampened skin. And all three were bitterly aware that the others shared identical memories.
Zoe decided she had never hated anyone or anything as much as she detested the two women staring at her across her inadequately furnished sitting room. Logic informed her it was not their fault that Jean Jacques was a lying, thieving, womanizing son of a bitch. But her heart insisted otherwise.
Jumping up, she crossed the room and gripped the doorknob. "I want you to leave. Right now."
She desperately needed to crawl into bed and wash his scent out of her pillow with her tears. And then, when no more tears would flow, she needed to put herself through the miserable ordeal of reviewing his every word and action, and fully consider the extent of the worst disaster in her life.
Juliette pulled back in disapproval, twitching her lips. After glancing about, she carefully set her cup and saucer on the floor, then rose gracefully and smoothed down her skirts as if dusting Zoe's rudeness off her person.
Clara also stood, appearing more disappointed than offended. "We know how you feel. We—"
"You don't know me, and you don't know how I feel! I can hardly bear to look at the two of you! I don't know how you can stand each other." Aware that the walls were thin and she had shouted, Zoe forced her shaking voice lower. "You've had your say, you've ruined my life, now get out! I don't ever want to see either of you again!"
"Thank you for the coffee," Juliette said in a flat tone as she brushed past Zoe and into the corridor.
Clara paused. "We didn't discuss what we're going to do."
Zoe stared. "There is no
we
. You can fall off the edge of the world for all I care! I hope you do." She slammed her door, no longer minding what the other tenants would think. Shaking with pain and fury, she collected the cups and saucers and threw them out the open window, leaning from the sill to watch the porcelain shatter two stories below. Then, flying through her two rooms, she collected Jean Jacques's handkerchief, his cuff link, the book of poetry, and the dried flowers from her wedding bouquet, and she flung those items out the window, too. She would have sent her wedding ring sailing after the rest if her fingers hadn't swollen in the heat and humidity.
Cursing under her breath, she twisted and tugged at the offending ring, then gave up and burst into deep shuddering sobs. Sinking to her knees before the window, she covered her face and rocked back and forth, hot tears scalding her eyes and cheeks.
She had loved him. But she'd loved a person who didn't really exist. He'd only been a mirror reflecting her dreams.
When the tears and self-flagellation passed, and after she had remembered and considered
"I am going to find him," she said furiously, speaking between her teeth. "And when I do, I swear I am going to put a bullet between his lying eyes!"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me a widow before I get my money back," Clara said in a short, terse voice.
"And not before he explains everything," Juliette added.
Clara threw out her hands and gave Zoe an exasperated look. "She refuses to believe that he married us for the money!"
"If it was only money, then why didn't he take more?" Juliette glared at them. "I would have given him twice the amount he suggested. He could have waited until you sold your inn, Clara, and taken those funds, too. And you would have given him all your reward money plus your nest egg, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Zoe admitted, hating the truth of it.
"But I guess I do know it was mostly the money," Juliette admitted softly, blinking down at her cup and saucer. "I want to believe it wasn't only that. I want to believe he loved me a little, too. Maybe that's why he only took part of my money. In any case, he owes us an explanation. I need to hear the truth from his own lips."
At the mention of Jean Jacques's lips, they all fell silent, remembering feverish kisses on sweat-dampened skin. And all three were bitterly aware that the others shared identical memories.
Zoe decided she had never hated anyone or anything as much as she detested the two women staring at her across her inadequately furnished sitting room. Logic informed her it was not their fault that Jean Jacques was a lying, thieving, womanizing son of a bitch. But her heart insisted otherwise.
Jumping up, she crossed the room and gripped the doorknob. "I want you to leave. Right now."
She desperately needed to crawl into bed and wash his scent out of her pillow with her tears. And then, when no more tears would flow, she needed to put herself through the miserable ordeal of reviewing his every word and action, and fully consider the extent of the worst disaster in her life.
Juliette pulled back in disapproval, twitching her lips. After glancing about, she carefully set her cup and saucer on the floor, then rose gracefully and smoothed down her skirts as if dusting Zoe's rudeness off her person.
Clara also stood, appearing more disappointed than offended. "We know how you feel. We—"
"You don't know me, and you don't know how I feel! I can hardly bear to look at the two of you! I don't know how you can stand each other." Aware that the walls were thin and she had shouted, Zoe forced her shaking voice lower. "You've had your say, you've ruined my life, now get out! I don't ever want to see either of you again!"
"Thank you for the coffee," Juliette said in a flat tone as she brushed past Zoe and into the corridor.
Clara paused. "We didn't discuss what we're going to do."
Zoe stared. "There is no
we
. You can fall off the edge of the world for all I care! I hope you do." She slammed her door, no longer minding what the other tenants would think. Shaking with pain and fury, she collected the cups and saucers and threw them out the open window, leaning from the sill to watch the porcelain shatter two stories below. Then, flying through her two rooms, she collected Jean Jacques's handkerchief, his cuff link, the book of poetry, and the dried flowers from her wedding bouquet, and she flung those items out the window, too. She would have sent her wedding ring sailing after the rest if her fingers hadn't swollen in the heat and humidity.
Cursing under her breath, she twisted and tugged at the offending ring, then gave up and burst into deep shuddering sobs. Sinking to her knees before the window, she covered her face and rocked back and forth, hot tears scalding her eyes and cheeks.
She had loved him. But she'd loved a person who didn't really exist. He'd only been a mirror reflecting her dreams.
When the tears and self-flagellation passed, and after she had remembered and considered
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