Excerpt

Chapter One

It all started with a face in the mirror.

It wasn't AJ's face.

She didn't see herself that morning, her dark brown hair with the damning flecks of gray taking over, her white skin slightly sallow given her usual lack of sleep, the familiar glare in her hazel eyes, the sharp nose, thin lips, or pointed chin.

No, she saw a man's head in the mirror, standing profile to her. He was white, his scalp shaved, with a bulbous nose and flabby lips. He had at least two chins going and was considering a third. She couldn't see past his neck, but she bet that he had on some obscure band's T-shirt and would sneer if you didn't know them. He looked to be about her age, somewhere in his forties, but not aging gracefully, as it were.

Slowly, the head in the mirror started to rotate toward her.

AJ found herself rooted in place. She couldn't look away.

She'd been expecting pale blue eyes. Instead, they were milky white, as if covered in cataracts.

They looked dead.

Before the apparition could open its mouth and speak its doom, AJ's wristwatch buzzed.

Whatever spell that had been holding her broke, and she found that she could look down.

Her smart watch, AKA The Tyrant, showed a text message from her sister Bea.

Traffic on the bridge socks. I might be late.

AJ snorted, both annoyed and amused. Her little sister made her do that often.

Bea spoke her messages into her phone and then never corrected the typos. They almost always contained misspellings as a result.

Fortunately, AJ was used to Bea being late. She, herself, would have checked traffic on the West Seattle bridge and left early if she'd needed to. Knowing Bea, she'd been a whirling mess, shoving everything into the car at the last minute and would have been late whether there was traffic or not.

AJ risked a glance back up in the mirror. Just her appearance stared back at her. Wan and angry and sad all at the same time. She looked old as she felt, which was ancient these days, and not merely forty-two.

What had that stupid head been all about? She hadn't recognized the guy. Was she really losing it? Was the stress of, well, everything, finally getting to her? It wasn't yet another sign of perimenopause, was it? Sure, she'd started early. But then again, so had her mother, as well as her grandmothers on both sides of the family.

Shaking her head, AJ left the bathroom. At one point, that room had been her pride and joy. The white tile floor was heated and on a timer, so it was always perfectly warm when she got up. The shower had one of those full rain showerheads that AJ adored, with enough water pressure so that it came out as a steady downpour and not just a drizzle. Light blue paint covered the walls, giving the space a spa feeling, particularly with her fluffy white towels and the expensive, handmade soaps that she'd splurged on.

She'd spent a lot of money having the bathroom—hell, the entire 1910 Craftsman house—renovated.

Now, she was leaving it all behind.

Though she wore sneakers, her footsteps still echoed as she walked across the beautiful hardwood floors of the semi-formal dining room. Leaded glass windows caught and refracted the sunlight, spreading rainbow lines across her path. The built-in cupboard in the corner stood empty instead of being full of cut crystal and her good dishes. Everything smelled of the lemony furniture cleaner she'd used to chase away any speck of dust.

AJ had painted all the walls down here a creamy color, still light but softer than the stark white the former owners had used everywhere. The golden wood of the floors reflected her color choice, making the whole place seem warm, despite the fact that all the furniture was now gone.

She'd spent the previous night at a nearby vacation rental, getting up early to meet the movers who had taken away the rest of former life, carting it off to Goodwill and other donation centers.

What clothes she wasn't taking with her had already been packed away in boxes, safely ensconced in her mother's basement in the house on Mercer Island, along with AJ's dishes and silverware, as well as a single box of important papers.

Nothing else.

Standing in the front entranceway and looking back into the living room, AJ could still see in her mind's eye that horrible afternoon when her life had changed. And not for the better.

She'd come home early from her last day at work to find her now ex-boyfriend naked with some bimbo on her couch…

Then later finding evidence that they'd "baptized" the kitchen counters as well as the dining room table. She'd just thrown away all her bedding and checked herself into a hotel for the night, never sleeping in her own house again over the past six weeks.

AJ shook her head and resolutely looked out the door. The rest of her clothes were packed in the two suitcases standing beside her, along with a rather large toiletry kit that contained everything else. Given how her body was responding to that "change of life" she'd need all the tools she had to help herself look decent most days.

Today was Saturday. On Monday, cleaners were coming to ensure that everything was spotless. They'd wipe down the walls and the kitchen cabinets, wax the floors, and shine up everything. Tuesday, stagers were bringing in furniture and taking photos. Thursday, the house would be up for sale.

AJ expected to have an offer by the following Monday, given the Seattle housing market plus the fact that her house, while it was going to bring in a lot of money, was still priced to sell.

It brought her no joy.

She already had enough money, thanks to the little startup that she'd helped found being bought by Microsoft for a very nice amount. She'd cashed out and had been planning on retiring for a few years. She needed a break, particularly after working eighty-hour weeks for the last decade. She'd thought she could spend some time enjoying her house, maybe even doing charity work like her mother.

Hell, possible get married to Ken, her ex.

Now, she was leaving everything behind. She planned to spend the summer down in Milltown, on the coast, at her sister's vacation cottage.

Trying to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, away from the city and everything she'd always known and loved. Too many bad memories up her for her to stay. At least for now.

The sound of a car slowly making its way down the cobble street stones made AJ look up. There was Bea, and yes, the backseat was full of bags and boxes because Bea hadn't planned or packed ahead.

There would be room for AJ's bags. Probably. With a bit of shoving and cursing. But that was about it.

With a sigh, AJ walked out the door of her once-beloved house for the last time. She deposited the key into the mailbox.

Then, with her head held high, she went down the stairs, firmly moving forward, away from her past.