“Oh. I’m sorry, that would be impossible. He’s very busy.”
Bobby reaches out to tug on my shirt sleeve. “Is he coming home soon?”
I clear my throat. “His son is about to go to sleep and would like to talk to him. You really can’t put him on the line?”
“I’m so sorry.” But she doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I’ll let him know to give you a call when he has a chance.”
“You really can’t put him on the line for two seconds?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I want to slam down the phone, but that won’t do me any good. Brianna is the boss over there. She is the gatekeeper if I want to talk to my husband, and she is not letting me through the gate.
Of course, this is Elliot’s fault for not texting me. Or answering his damn phone.
On the plus side, at least I know he hasn’t crashed his Tesla on the way home and is lying in a ditch somewhere. I just have to wait and he’ll be home eventually.
I give Bobby a few extra hugs to make up for the fact that Elliot isn’t around. It takes some time, but I coax him into going to sleep. Elliot still hasn’t texted me, so I leave my phone downstairs so I won’t keep checking it, and I take a long, hot shower. A shower is my only chance of relaxing. If I sit and watch TV, I’m just going to be thinking about Elliot.
Maybe I should do a test bake tonight. I’ve been wanting to do a pound cake using ricotta cheese on my show. I haven’t figured out the secret yet though. By the time I’m ready to film, I’ll probably have turned out at least four ricotta pound cakes.
After about thirty minutes under scalding hot water, I feel a lot better. The hot water is so soothing. It’s like getting a full body massage. I still feel angry at Elliot, but I can think about things differently. I know he’s under tremendous pressure at work lately. He has a chance to make partner this year, and it’s a big deal. I should be grateful to him for working so hard to support his family. I need to be more accepting of his long hours.
And then I hear glass shattering downstairs.
Chapter 17
Oh my God. Somebody’s breaking into our house.
Worse, I left my stupid phone downstairs. So I can’t even call 911 and tell the police about the breakin.
I told Elliot we needed a landline. He said it was a waste of money, but if we had a landline, I’d be able to call the police right now. Of course, if my husband got home from work at a reasonable hour, we wouldn’t have this problem. He’d be home, protecting me. Like he’s supposed to do.
I don’t know what to do. My first instinct is to go into Bobby’s room and make sure he’s okay. But there’s no lock on Bobby’s door, so if I go in there, we’re both sitting ducks. And there’s no way I am waking Bobby up so he can freak out.
No, my best bet is to get to my phone. I’ve got to call the police.
I quickly throw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and my slippers. I open the door to the bedroom quietly and listen for sounds downstairs to give me a sense of where the intruder is. I hold my breath, straining my ears.
I hear nothing.
Maybe whoever it was just grabbed my purse and left. Or maybe they heard sounds outside, got scared, and decided not to burgle me after all. Or maybe they’re lying in wait.
Fortunately, all the lights are on downstairs. So it’s unlikely somebody will be lurking around. Anyway, why would you break into a house where all the lights are on?
Hoping I’m not making a seriously stupid mistake, I make my way cautiously down the stairs to the living room. I still don’t hear any noises to indicate an intruder. But I do see broken glass by one of the windows. It’s cracked with a small hole in it, like somebody threw a ball at the window and it broke.
Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe some kids were playing ball on the street and one flew through my window. Of course, the time of day makes that very unlikely.
And then I see the rock on the floor.
Somebody threw a rock through my window.
Thankfully, I’m wearing my slippers. I creep across the floor, doing my best to avoid the glass. I bend down next to the rock that penetrated my window. It’s smaller than my fist but it did the job.
“April?”
I whirl around. Elliot is standing behind me, looking rumpled in his white dress shirt with his tie loose around his neck. He has a five o’clock shadow on his scalp.
“What happened?” His brows are scrunched together. “Is that a rock?”
“Somebody threw it through our window.” I swallow a large lump in my throat. “I was upstairs and I heard it.”
“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head. “What the hell? Who would do something like that?”
I shrug helplessly, not trusting myself to speak.
“Jesus,” he says again. “Should we call the police?”
“What’s the point? They’re not going to do anything.” I struggle to my feet, trying not to touch the ground because I don’t want to get glass in my hand. “Why are you home so late? You didn’t even text me.”
“What are you talking about? I texted you like twenty minutes ago to tell you I was leaving!”
Oh. Well, that could be true. I haven’t looked at my phone since I went upstairs.
I blink a few times, afraid my emotions are going to get the better of me. “I was worried about you. And Bobby kept asking for you.”
Elliot’s shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, April. Work is killing me lately. But I promise I’ll try to be home earlier from now on.”
I nod and pick up my phone from the coffee table, where I left it. Sure enough, there is a text message on the screen from Elliot, telling me he’s on his way home. And then there’s a second text message, from a blocked number:
Did you enjoy my little present, April?
I clasp my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. Up until now, it was just words. Now there’s a rock in my living room and a bunch of broken glass on the floor. Somebody’s out to get me.
I only wish I knew why.
Chapter 18
I spend most of the next day cooking, just to get my mind off what happened the night before. By the time I’m ready to pick up Bobby from school, every inch of our kitchen table is covered with baked goods. I grab some lemon bars and cookies and hurry out the door to the school. I’m sure I can get somebody to eat them.
Carrie, Kathy, and Julie are waiting together near the entrance. Carrie groans when she sees my Tupperware. “Why do I feel like I’m going to gain five pounds in the next five minutes?”
I pull the lid off the container of lemon bars. “Come on, please take one. I’m overloaded!”
Carrie hesitates. “I shouldn’t.”
“Go ahead, Carrie,” Kathy says. “Mark always says that April makes the best lemon bars in existence.”
She shoots me a look as she says that. I shift uneasily. Could she be the one who threw a rock through my window? I wouldn’t put it past her.
Just as all three women reach over to take lemon bars, I see Sean Cooper jogging over to me. He waves his hand to get my attention and calls out my name. It’s hard not to notice him.
Carrie nudges my elbow. “I wonder what Maria’s hot husband wants to talk to you about.”