Deadly Start Clark Nefri (new reading .TXT) 📖

“You will come for dinner?” Rosie had asked that only yesterday. Christmas dinner wasn’t something Charlotte had often experienced. A couple of times she’d been invited to colleagues’ homes, but it had been out of pity for her being alone. She was sure of that. She’d eaten and nodded and smiled, left a generic bottle of wine and flowers, then fled the minute she was able to. Somehow, the idea of sharing a table with Rosie wasn’t as confronting. From the moment they’d met, Rosie and Charlotte clicked. Maybe she’d let Rosie know she’d be along, and even offer to come early and help.

Charlotte stared at the box. It stared back. At some point she’d need to open it, if only to discover the sender. There was nobody in her life who’d send a Christmas present. Nobody who’d know her address, that is.

Not Trev?

Surely, he knew better. Their relationship—if one could even call it that—was more a loose friendship. An occasional moment of laughter. Sometimes, a connection over a mystery. There she was again, back to being a detective.

Christie? Now, that made sense. Christie was the queen of mysteries and knew her address. But she was busy with opening her new beauty salon and being a newlywed. Of course, if Christie knew her address, so did most of River’s End.

She found a knife and cut through the tape on the top. She wanted to know what was inside. Charlotte pushed the flaps aside and looked in.

At first, she didn’t understand. There were books, and photo albums, and little trinket boxes, Christmas cards, and a whole lot of letters. And on the very top, in a plastic sleeve, an envelope. It was addressed to her.

Charlotte walked away. Went out on the balcony and played with the pine branches, whispering to them that they were wanted and needed to grow. She gazed down the road, not seeing a thing.

And then she returned to the box and slid the envelope out of the plastic sleeve.

Dear Dr Dean,

The board of Lakeview Care thought it was time to forward the remaining items Angelica kept from the house. With the deteriorating condition of your mother, we felt it prudent to send what is yours. She has held on to these as some kind of comfort but has not touched them in weeks. We believe it is safe to send them now.

Sincerely,

Maggie

Charlotte let the note escape her fingers and watched it fall to the ground. She walked to the kitchen. Then back to the balcony. And then, she collected a book from the pile on a coffee table and went to the bedroom.

Chapter Nine

The attempt to read the afternoon away failed miserably. Too much was swirling around in Charlotte’s mind, none of it welcome. After an hour of winding herself up even more, she decided she was hungry.

Creating a simple sandwich helped. The act of doing something productive let her brain clear some of the mixed-up thoughts and by the time she took it to the sofa, she was ready to work out what to do with the box.

Feet tucked under herself, Charlotte nibbled on lunch, eyes on the box as if expecting it to move on its own. Inside it were a whole lot of memories, and more than that, things she’d never had access to. The letters were from her mother, and to her mother. She’d seen them before but kept locked away in a box. And her mother didn’t speak of them. Never had.

Half of her wanted to reseal it and send it back.

Coward.

She put the plate down, lunch only part eaten.

It wasn’t cowardice to shy away from darkness if it scared you.

So, find a light.

Charlotte knew this was the right approach, but there wasn’t any light she could shine on it. Not yet. The best thing was to put it out of sight until she’d found a metaphorical light. And she would. If anything, Charlotte was expert at clever ways to create shields. At least, she was for other people when she was practicing psychiatry.

This reminded her of something a wise woman told her. Back in River’s End, she’d spent some time with Christie’s great-aunt Martha, a woman who’d lost the love of her life and found him again. For many years, she’d lived on the other side of the world, with little knowledge of events in her hometown. The arrival of a box of her possessions, accidentally left behind, came as a shock and she’d hidden it in a broom closet for years. Eventually, she’d revisited the memories and found strength in the once-beloved items.

“Better to deal with a problem when it happens.” Martha had told Charlotte over coffee. “Burying the past is the least effective way of finding happiness.”

Martha’s wisdom made sense. She’d find a way to take everything out of her box and inspect the past. Perhaps Martha would come and help her.

Charlotte folded the flaps down and carried the box into a spare bedroom. There, she left it on the bed and closed the door behind herself. Time to finish lunch.

“How pretty are you?” Charlotte stepped back from the tree with a smile. She’d been careful not to overload its sagging branches, but even with only a dozen baubles, the little pine brightened up the balcony. “I’m going to nurture you until you’re strong enough to plant, then we’ll find you somewhere special to grow into the tall, strong pine you are meant to be.”

She leaned on the balcony railing, gazing up at the hills. Apart from some cleared land around houses, the hills were covered with all types of trees. Pines overlooked the sports fields, then deciduous trees such as claret and golden ashes. Autumn must be so pretty. Gum trees of different species. The beautiful golden wattles stood out against the green and grey of the other trees.

Movement down the road caught her attention as a car and trailer pulled up outside Esther’s boutique. When Esther