The Music Box Read Free Page A

relationship. Eleven giddy weeks of courtship, just long enough to finish the university term. Angie had held on to that, though she was giving up graduating in order to join Stefan in the family business. Eleven months of trying to make the marriage work, gradually building up her courage to tell him that it was impossible—she could not bear to spend the rest of her life in a job she hated, under the eye of people who hated her, so she was going back to finish her degree. And then on the last day of the eleventh month, receiving the news that had shattered her life yet again. And ended her marriage as finally as the waiting grave. She would never have a baby, the doctor had told her. The tests were conclusive. It was useless to try anymore.
    Eleven months of marriage, followed by a brief eleven days of anger and recrimination and more tears than she thought one body could hold. And then nothing.
    She had come back from her first day of class to find Stefan’s family gathered in their little apartment, quiet for once, packing and bundling all Stefan’s belongings into the rented truck. No word to her the entire time, not even a note from Stefan to explain or just say farewell. She had stood mute and accepting, knowing there was no way she could fight against so much shared hostility and anger.
    Four months later Gina had been the one to call and tell her that Stefan was dead. Which was the only way that Angie would have ever known, as there had been no word from her absent husband or his family since he had abandoned her. Gina passed on the news, then cried with her over the phone and told her when the funeral would be held and cried with her some more. And ever since then, for these past six years, they had marked each anniversary by meeting together at Stefan’s grave. It was the only contact Angie kept with all her early dreams.
    ****
    Gradually, as though the volume knob on a radio was slowly being turned louder, Emma’s voice invaded her reflections. “Her father comes into the store from time to time.”
    Angie did not know whether to be grateful for the interruption or not. “Who?”
    Her friend glanced over. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve been saying, have you?” Before Angie could protest, Emma turned back to the road and went on, “I was telling you about Carson Nealey, Melissa’s father. He’ll be in and out in the blink of an eye, loading up things for his garden and plunking down his money and leaving. Doesn’t say hardly a word to anybody. He’d be a right handsome fellow if he wasn’t so grim.”
    â€œI wonder if maybe I ought to meet with him,” Angie murmured, glad now that what lay ahead could be pushed to one side. For now.
    â€œSomebody ought to. Never can tell what that child is enduring,” Emma agreed eagerly. She was happy to talk about anything and anybody, so long as there was the hint of mystery or gossip, preferably both. “I’ll drive you by and keep an eye out.”
    â€œYou’ll do no such thing.”
    â€œFellow like that, surrounds himself in mystery and silence, you can’t be too careful. All anybody knows about him is he’s taken over running the big shoe factory on the other side of town.”
    Despite herself, Angie was impressed. The shoe factory was the town’s one major industry. “You mean, he’s the new president?”
    â€œThe very same,” Emma confirmed. “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of a wife, though.”
    â€œThat is a little strange,” Angie allowed. “Maybe she still works down in the city.”
    â€œLocked up somewheres, more like,” Emma offered and was suddenly off and running. “I’ve seen his face, and you haven’t. All pinched and squinty-eyed, like a mean old weasel. Wouldn’t be surprised to hear he’s got her tied in the cellar, feeds her through the keyhole.”
    â€œThat is