ready to join his wife at the shore. She’d left him a list of tasks to close the Princeton house for the summer, along with a reminder that each task was important. The list was thorough, and if Chase had allowed himself to think about it, he might have felt insulted by the childish level of explanation she’d added.
Turn off the water to the laundry room, in the basement. The valve is beside the washing machine, on the right. It’s blue.
He’d lived in this house just as long as Kaye had. He knew how to turn off the water.
Climbing back up the basement stairs, Chase skimmed the rest of the list. Not including forwarding the mail and cancelling newspaper delivery, which Kaye had already done, it had taken him less than an hour to finish. Nothing on the list was overly complicated; it all seemed a matter of common sense. Idly he wondered if Kaye would have left the same level of detail for anyone else—for Stacy, or for Brad—or if she would have given this list to Chase three years ago, and was disappointed to realize she wouldn’t have. The heart attack he had suffered was severe but it had happened almost three years ago and he was ready to move on.
His wife, it seemed, was not.
That had presented a problem which Chase didn’t quite know how to solve.
Upstairs in the kitchen, Chase pulled the coffee machine from underneath the counter and retrieved a packet of the dark roast he loved. And because he knew Kaye would not have permitted it, he had hidden it, deep in the pantry. After filling the carafe with water, he measured the grounds into the basket and flicked the switch. As the fresh coffee brewed, the rich scent filled the air. He breathed it in as he realized how much he’d missed it. All coffee, even decaf, had been forbidden to him by the cardiologist just after his illness, but Chase’s lab work had been normal for months now, yet Kaye still restricted him to one cup of watery herbal tea a day.
He opened the refrigerator, reached for the carton of cream Kaye had apparently forgotten about and set it on the counter. He imagined adding a generous pour to his coffee and enjoying every bit of it.
While he waited for the coffee to brew, Chase leaned against the kitchen counter and pictured the contents of the upstairs medicine cabinet, another thing that bothered him. Kaye had kept every pill ever prescribed to him, from his initial trip to the emergency room, to his time in the ICU, and from every specialist and general practitioner he’d seen since. Three years of medication he no longer needed. Every time he opened the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, they were there, reminding him of his weakness. The collection of plastic bottles filled the entire bottom shelf, bright orange tombstones that served as souvenirs of how close he’d come to the end of his life.
Of how little time he might have left.
Impulsively, he reached under the sink for a white plastic trash bag and snapped it open. He strode up the stairs to his bathroom and faced the cabinet. Flinging open the door, he reached inside until his fingers touched the back wall, then he cupped his hand and swept everything out. Bottles fell to the countertop with a clatter, skittering onto the floor and bouncing into the sink. There were dozens of them. He gathered every last one of them up and put them where they belonged: into the garbage.
This summer would mark a new beginning for him. Kaye would get the family time she wanted—she deserved at least that—but afterward, Chase would return to work.
Suddenly optimistic, he spent the rest of the morning settled on the leather chair in his office, sipping his heavily creamed coffee and considering his options. He’d given up his share in the business, accepting a payout from his partners because, though the doctors had only suggested it, Kaye had insisted on it. If Chase himself were perfectly honest, he might allow that he wasn’t able to serve clients the way he once did. The hours alone were restrictive, and he seemed to tire easily these days. However, he was confident he could find something equally rewarding in the same field, and he intended to spend the summer researching his options.
The ring of the doorbell startled him.
After folding his newspaper, he rose from his chair and went to open the