Shackled by Morgan Ashbury

The only other times she’d packed had been for the two vacations she and Tim had gone on to the tropics. For each occasion, she’d spent weeks making lists, planning out everything she would bring with her. Tim had derided her of course, and while his snarky comments had dulled the pleasure of anticipation for her, the list-making extended it.
    Now she was to pack for an entire month in a matter of minutes! Of course, if she needed more clothes, she likely could drive back into the city at any time and come get them. Shrugging, she gathered together a couple of pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts, some skirts and blouses, her one good dress—just in case they went out anywhere for dinner—two pairs of tailored slacks, and a handful of lace from her underwear drawer.
    The only items from her bathroom she concerned herself with were her makeup bag, deodorant, moisturizer, and some feminine hygiene products.
    She checked her watch, pleased she’d managed the entire task in just over twenty minutes.
    Bethany didn’t find Jonathan in the living room, where she’d left him. Neither was the message light still flashing on her phone. Curious where he’d be, she went searching for him. Of course, since her house wasn’t very big, she found him quickly. He stood in the den, looking out the picture window into her backyard.
    The patio set they’d used so many summers ago to lounge on while chatting and sipping tea still stood under the shade of the giant maple. Since the leaves had begun to turn, she supposed it would soon be time to haul the set into the shed for the winter.
    “He certainly had his creature comforts,” Jonathan said.
    Despite that he’d been looking at the view, Bethany knew he referred to the sixty-inch plasma television Tim had bought about a month before he died. She still couldn’t look at the thing without shivering. He’d bought the thing without even discussing it with her, just one more time when he’d sabotaged her budget. “Yes, he did,” she said.
    Jonathan turned from the window, met her gaze, and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Then he laid his hand on Tim’s chair. “Nice chair.”
    That chair had been another bone of contention between her and her husband. “That’s a handcrafted Italian leather recliner. I believe that particular model is called ‘Il Trono.’”
    “The throne,” Jonathan said.
    “Yes. I have no idea if the thing is comfortable or not. I believe its name was its selling point.”
    “Hmm.” Jonathan sat in it and made a show of getting himself comfortable. “Not bad, I suppose. Did he buy it over at the Galleria?”
    Bethany smiled. That was a logical assumption, as Tim had preferred to shop at the expensive mall that housed so many famous name and fine stores. “No. It’s an Italian leather chair, from Italy .”
    “Holy hell. He bought it and had it shipped ?” Jonathan immediately got out of the chair and looked at it as if it would bite his ass. Then he looked at her. “I bet he never discussed it with you first, did he?”
    “Of course not. Could we go now, please? I’m packed and ready.”
    Jonathan looked at her for a long moment. “Yes, we can go.”
    Bethany appreciated that Jonathan seemed to be able to read her mood, because he didn’t say anything until they were nearly out of the city.
    “You didn’t ask about your messages,” he said at last.
    “Oh. I forgot. But really, if it wasn’t the children, I’m not overly sure I care at the moment.”
    “If there’d been a message from either of your children, sweetheart, I’d have told you right away.”
    Because he’d said that so seriously, she turned to look at him. “Yes, I know you would. It was likely Connie who called.”
    “Indeed. Wanting to ‘do lunch’. Personally, I hate that expression. It sounds so fucking pretentious. You don’t do lunch, for God’s sake, you eat lunch.”
    “That’s Connie,” Bethany said. “I have my cell phone. I’ll give her