Chapter 1 - The Stranger in the Doorway
"You’re Eugene," she said. Her grip on her forearm crutches tightened, the metal frame clicking softly against the weathered floorboards.
The grocery bag in her arm tilted, a box of saltine crackers sliding dangerously close to the edge. I didn't move. My boots felt glued to the dusty rug, every muscle in my sixty-year-old body locking up in a surge of pure, unadulterated shock.
Who was she? And why did she know my name?
"I am," I managed, my voice sounding like gravel grinding together. "And you're... Carol, right?"
Her dark eyes widened fractionally. She looked past me, scanning the empty living room as if expecting a ghost to step out from the kitchen. "Helen didn't tell you she gave me a key?"
"Helen didn't tell me a lot of things," I said bitterly, the sting of Bradley's betrayal and the fresh dirt of my wife's grave blending into a hot, heavy ache in my chest. "She passed away last week. I thought... I thought this cabin was abandoned. A forgotten place she left behind to keep me out of the way."
Carol’s breath caught. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her looking fragile against the backdrop of the sea. She closed her eyes for a second, her shoulders slumping.
"She's gone?" A tear broke free, tracking a swift path down her cheek. "No... no, she promised she'd come back for the sunset on Friday. She said... she said her heart was holding on."
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"Her heart stopped in her sleep," I whispered, the words tasting like ash. I stepped forward instinctively, wanting to steady her, but she shook her head, shifting her weight onto her crutches with practiced precision.
"Help me set the groceries down, Eugene," she said softly, her voice steadying with an iron resolve that mirrored Helen’s own. "Then we need to talk. Because your son—and the lawyer in the city—have no idea what kind of firestorm they just walked into."
