A Love Lost to the Years novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Behind the Door
Kenneth cracks the lounge door to surprise his wife and sees Sheldon Lowry kneeling with his head on her knee. He walks out in front of her staff, and Sheldon says she never told him why she chose him.
Kenneth Nordlund was asleep on the lounge daybed when the elevator chimed at ten past eleven.
His wife wasn't due back from Chicago until Friday.
He knew the sound of her heels anyway, and he was on his feet before he had decided to get up.
He had spent the day fitting walnut shelves into the lounge she never used.
Sawdust had ruined his clothes, so he had showered in her private bathroom and fallen asleep in the guest robe.
Now he crossed the floor barefoot, grinning, and eased the door open an inch.
He wanted to see her face before she saw his.
Annabel sat at her desk in the chair he had built for her.
It was walnut and steel, it had taken him four months, and she said it was the only chair that didn't hurt her back.
Her hands were folded on the blotter.
A man knelt on the carpet in front of her with his forehead pressed against her knee.
His shoulders were shaking.
Kenneth knew the back of that head from the business pages.
Sheldon Lowry was a developer, and years ago he had been engaged to Annabel.
She had mentioned it once, in the first month they were together, and had never said his name again.
"Nine years, Annie," Sheldon said. His voice was wet and cracked. "Nine years, and I never stopped."
Annabel said something too low for Kenneth to hear.
Her left hand lay on Sheldon's shoulder.
She did not push him away.
On the credenza behind her stood the one framed photograph in the whole office, turned to face the wall, the way it had stood for seven years.
Beyond the glass partition, her assistant sat at the outer desk with a laptop open.
She was looking straight at Kenneth.
Then she looked quickly down at her keyboard.
Annabel raised her eyes and found him in the gap of the door.
"Ken," she said.
Her whole face went smooth, and her voice went to the tone she used on clients.
"Go back to bed. It's a work thing. Give me five minutes."
Kenneth pushed the door the rest of the way open.
He stood there in a borrowed robe with sawdust still under his fingernails.
"That's a very emotional work thing," he said.
Sheldon sat back on his heels and wiped his cheeks with both thumbs.
He did not look surprised.
"Mr. Nordlund," he said. "I'm so sorry you had to see this."
"You're on her floor," Kenneth said. "That's walnut. Your shoes are scratching it."
Sheldon got up slowly.
Kenneth turned to his wife.
"You said Friday."
"I changed my flight."
"You didn't tell me."
"I was going to tell you in the morning." Her voice stayed level. "Nothing happened, Ken. Nothing is going to happen."
"Your hand was on him."
Annabel looked down at her own hand and left it where it was.
"I know," she said.
That was all she said.
She did not say why, and she did not say sorry.
She was waiting for him to be reasonable, and he understood that he had been reasonable for seven years.
"I'm going to Sonya's," Kenneth said.
"Kenneth. Sit down. Ten minutes, and I'll explain."
"Explain it to me tomorrow. If you want to."
So he walked out.
He went back into the lounge, pulled on his dusty jeans and his boots, and carried the robe out over his arm.
He laid it on the assistant's desk.
She stood up fast.
"Mr. Nordlund," she said. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to call you a car?"
"No, thank you. You were here the whole time, weren't you?"
She didn't answer, and she didn't need to.
Behind him, Annabel's office door stayed shut.
He pressed the elevator button.
The guard at the far end of the corridor was pretending to read a clipboard.
The elevator took its time.
When it came, Kenneth stepped inside and turned around to face the hall.
Sheldon Lowry stood in the glass doorway of the office.
His eyes were dry now, and he was smiling a little.
"Seven years, Mr. Nordlund," Sheldon called down the hall, "and she still hasn't told you why she picked you."
The doors closed on his face.
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