Chapter 223
What should have been a warm family dinner was completely ruined by Shepard’s sudden, inexplicable outburst.
Effie sat quietly through it all, drinking glass after glass until she was well and truly drunk.
On their way out, her grandmother watched Effie with worried eyes.
“Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll take care of her,” Lyman reassured her gently.
Her grandmother nodded. “If only the guest rooms hadn’t gone unused for so long, I’d have insisted you stay here tonight.”
Truth was, the rooms were always kept tidy-her grandma just liked the idea that if Effie ever felt upset, she could come home anytime and find everything ready for her. But with Lyman there, and knowing who he was, her grandma worried the old, cramped house with its thin walls might not be comfortable for him. So, she held back from insisting.
Lyman led Effie out to the street to wait for their ride.
The neighborhood was old, parking spots were few and far between, so their car was parked out along the curb.
“Easy now,” Lyman said, steadying Effie as she swayed on her feet.
Drunk, Effie seemed like a different person. She clung to him, muttering, “Why is this lamppost moving? I feel so dizzy…”
Lyman blinked. “Lamppost? What?”
He glanced around and spotted a battered old bench under the big tree by the gate, where some of the local retirees usually sat to cool off.
He guided Effie over and helped her sit down-if he didn’t, she’d keep this up and make a real scene.
“Here we go, just sit here for a minute,” Lyman coaxed, his tone soft and patient.
Effie obediently settled down. “Take me home. I want to go home…”
“We will. The driver’s almost here,” Lyman said, keeping his voice soothing.
Effie bowed her head and went still, looking for all the world as if she’d nodded off.
Just then, Lyman’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen-his driver. He answered immediately.
“Mr. Etheridge, I’m so sorry. I was pulling out just now and didn’t notice-l clipped another car. I’m sorting it out now.”
Lyman’s driver had been with him for years, always steady, never so much as a fender bender. But this neighborhood’s roads were narrow, crowded, and at night, accidents happened easily.
Lyman didn’t scold him. “A hundred grand-will that settle it?”
“A hundred grand…” The driver swallowed hard. The car he’d clipped was some ancient import, worth maybe a fraction of that. But he understood Lyman wanted this resolved quickly. “Alright. I’ll negotiate.”
“Make it quick.”
While making the call, Lyman kept glancing back at Effie. But just as he finished transferring the money, he looked up-and the bench was empty.
A sudden chill ran through him.
“Effie!”
Where was she? How could she vanish in just a blink?
A surge of panic and regret washed over him. If anything happened to Effie, he’d never forgive himself.
Meanwhile, Effie was stumbling along the sidewalk, when three young men came swaggering toward her-one with bright green hair, the others sporting yellow and red.
She blinked blearily, head tilting to the side. “Why are the traffic lights all crooked?” she muttered.
Traffic lights?
The three exchanged amused glances.
But their attention quickly shifted back to Effie—a beautiful woman, alone, late at night, weaving tipsily along the street. Even if they suspected it was a setup, the temptation to approach was too much to resist.