Charlotte finds some things she didn't know she had. Brothers, pin cushions, a new home but it's lacking the love she had always imagined for herself.
PART II - UNPACKING
It was no surprise nor delight for Charlotte Cosgrove that her marriage was already in the stages of decay.
The suggestion from her husband to ‘separate’ was a death knell, but she at least got a nice house out of it.
One she didn’t even have to share with him.
The truth of it all was too shocking to bring up to their parents, and they were blinded by their ignorance and naivety that orchestrating such a match would end happily ever after like her brothers who married Cosgrove family members before her.
For now, there would be a light charade to ease into the truth of it so as to not cause a free-for-all buzz for Kashmire’s tabloids and paparazzi.
Some would already suspect his infidelity with the short honeymoon, and Charlotte moving from the Cosgrove Estate to her own house–but it wasn’t anything that could be explained away by her and Marshall’s busy schedules and different work obligations.
Charlotte owned an art gallery in Memosa Bay, so it made sense for her to live nearby and not nearly an hour away at the beautiful yet boresome Cosgrove Estate in Isla del Kashmire.
Marshall’s family owned several properties around the region, so he was busy overseeing various businesses and conducting real estate deals all over the place.
She hardly spent time with her husband in the first place. So living alone wouldn’t be so different from before.
She had lived in a modest apartment when they were engaged.
So why did she still have this pain in her chest whenever she thought about being here, alone?
Thoughts of Marshall only seem to frustrate her so she turns her thoughts to other stuff to worry about, such as getting everything unpacked and set up. She shrugs off her blazer, changes into a pair of shorts and starts to open boxes that the movers left in each room.
The kitchen has so much more space than she’s used to. She had lived with so little counter space since her college years that she almost didn’t know what to do with all these cabinets! Would she even be able to use them all? Or would some lay empty until she bought more dishes?
She doesn’t remember having collected so many books!
She did know that she couldn’t fit them all on shelves in her old apartment but there is ample space for them all in the built-in bookcases here!
She feels her spirits lift somewhat, seeing the covers of old favorites she hadn’t read in years, and makes note of where she is placing them so she can read them again when she has the time—everything from fantasy adventures she enjoyed as a teen to mysteries she devoured between midterms.
She has cleared another box of books but it’s not empty. It still has something in there.
and it's not a book...
Charlotte reaches into it and pulls out a strange, lumpy, crocheted doll. Maybe it’s not made of yarn but some other material that is bleached and then dyed a dark color in some places. A series of sewing pins are lodged in its head.
She doesn’t recall having a sewing pin cushion, she doesn’t even know how to sew! She ponders on its small, strange face before she thinks it might have been something bequeathed to her by one of her grandmothers or that she made in crafting summer school as a kid.
She puts it back in the box and carries it into her room to clear the living room and finish decorating it.
She’s in the middle of rolling out her living room rug when her doorbell rings unceremoniously and she hears urgent knocking.
“What the heck…?” she says out loud to herself, as she slips on her shoes.
Three men are at her door. All with her familiar brown eyes, and brunet hair. Also, the freckles and moles that are so prevalent for the Calhoun family.
She opens it and braces herself.
“Lottie! Mom says you aren’t answering your phone and you’re already back from your honeymoon? Apparently, this is your house now? What’s happened?” Her eldest brother, Jimmy, starts in on stern questioning, like a cross-examination, just like the lawyer he is. How had he even gotten her new address?
“Did that prick do something to upset you?” Her next eldest brother, Marty, pretty much susses out the root of her problems in a dry tone, not even having to name Marshall.
She feels accosted and her lips go tight. One of them should have at least called in forewarning before becoming a pack of concerned brothers barging in.
“Yeah, what did that douchebag do to you?” Charlie, her own twin brother follows up with a crack of his knuckles for good measure. She has no doubt that upon her word Charles would wreck her husband.
“Hello to you too.”
She lets them into the house despite their abrupt and surprising appearance.
"How did you get my address?"
"Adriana."
"Oh."
Adriana was Charlotte, Jimmy, and Marty's mother-in-law. Of course, she knew of it. She had probably wondered why Charlotte wasn't moving into the Cosgrove Estate and wrangled at least the fact of Charlotte's new residence from her son.
"Well...how are you all here? Don't you have jobs to be at?"
"I set my own hours," Marty insists. He's a stay-at-home father and novelist so that's true. He probably got his teenagers to watch his youngest in order to come down and check on her.
"I have my own firm," is Jimmy's reply, "I can take off whenever I need to."
She raises her brows at Charlie for his excuse of why he isn't working. "As you know, I work at Jimmy's firm. He told me to come along."
"Seriously though, why aren't you answering Mom's calls? She's been worried since she heard you returned to Kashmire early," Marty asks because Charlotte never answered Jimmy.
"I've been busy!" Charlotte squeaks, slightly angry and slightly nervous because it's a lie. She doesn't want the fourth degree from her mother about her marriage they all attended less than a week ago. She just wants to be left alone.
"Anyone hungry? I'll make a salad."
She has her fridge meagerly stocked. She needs to go grocery shopping.
Who the flip even wants a salad?
Her brothers must be too polite to decline or else are suffering the salad in order to stay longer and get information from her.
Her brothers loom around her. She can tell they are studying her for any clues. They would love to have an excuse to beat Marshall to a pulp—they never liked him.
"You know, avoiding the question doesn't make it go away, Lottie," Jimmy finally breaks the silence.
"I know a few top-tier divorce lawyers that could take him for everything he's worth."
Charlotte grips the edge of the knife tightly and finally snaps, "I've not said anything about Marshall. You are the bozos jumping to conclusions. I'm fine! I don't know what you want me to say here—the honeymoon just wasn't our vibe and we came back early. I moved in here because it's closer to my art gallery."
Charlie steps forward, "You can't be oblivious to the rumors, sis. He's been seen with other women. Doesn't that bother you?"
She briefly pauses, grabbing up the chopped lettuce and veggies but continues. She's very good at ignoring questions she doesn't want to answer.
Charlie leans into it, "We all know how he is, how he's been. I've always told you he wasn't good enough for you. He's a cheater..."
"Why are you lecturing me on someone cheating when you kissed my bridesmaid in front of Amelia?" Charlotte sets down the salad bowl with a bang and scowls, invoking Charlie's wife's name.
She doesn't know why she's even defending Marshall and the matching scowl her twin gives her makes her feel bad for it. Charlie is only trying to help.
She knows he loves his own wife very dearly and it's a sore subject; a mistake he made and has paid for it with many cold nights on his own sofa.
He crosses his arms and holds his tongue.
"Do you want this salad or not?"
He nods.
She's never been so tense making a salad before.
Of course, her brothers would know something is off with all the recent happenings. They are all very protective of her but know she hates being coddled. Charlotte likes doing things on her own terms without any help.
"Well since you guys have come in questioning my life, how are yours? Besides Charlie being in the dog house what's new? Marty? Jimmy?" she presses on them for once. She just wants to desperately get the subject off her and her disaster of a relationship.
"You know, I only kissed Evie because I thought she was Amelia. They were wearing the same hairstyles at your wedding," Charlie says. Right, this is why he's never been the brightest crayon in the crayon box.
"Well, thanks for asking but not much has changed. Bryce is doing well at the academy and Mira is as busy as ever with her work," Jimmy answers. Mira is his wife, Marshall's eldest sister. Bryce is Charlotte's eldest nephew.
She looks to Marty, "My fifth novel is coming along nicely. The kids are all right. Melinda sends her love."
Melinda, is Marshall's next eldest sister that married one of her brothers. Charlotte gets along well with the former Cosgrove sisters. Growing up with Mira and Melinda, Charlotte already thought of them as sisters even then. She didn't have any real ones of her own.
"So answer us this then, since you've dodged all our other questions," Marty continues seriously, "Are you happy?"
"Yeah!" Charlotte clenches her jaw, "I'm fine. I have a nice house, a budding business, and can do my passion and hobby for a living!"
She again masterfully avoids mentioning Marshall or the state of her marriage.
She swallows a thick lump in her throat; a lie that will eat at her every time she has to say it to save face, "I am happy."
She finishes her salad and feels a pang of nausea hit in her gut; some of that vinegarette seems to bubble up her throat and she catches herself before any comes out. She really needs to get better food and go grocery shopping.
Or stop lying and internalizing all her guilt for doing so.
"We love you Charlotte, just let us know if there's anything we can do, okay? Also, call mom," Marty embraces her before he leaves.
"Yeah, you know you don't have to do everything by yourself. Seriously I know some divorce lawyers..."
Jimmy reaches out to hug her too but she insists that she doesn't need any divorce lawyers. She reiterates she's fine and there's no problem whatsoever between her and Marshall.
With her two elder brothers out the door, the last one is Charlie. Charlie, her big meathead of a twin brother. He might not be the brightest, but he knows her the best.
His firm expression crumples into sympathy as he grabs her tightly.
"You know, you may be able to get away with lying to them, but not me."
Charlotte quivers as if she's been holding in a breath and can only just now breathe.
He knows she is a lot worse than fine.
"I know."
She trudges off to her room after her brothers leave.
Socially exhausted.
She knows she should call her mother but doesn't have the energy.
All she can do is sprawl across her bed and wonder what Marshall is doing right now?
Is he thinking about her too? Does he regret what he's done?
Can he even feel regret?
She refuses to dwell on that though, she still has a house to put together. Does she wonder where Marshall is? Yes. Does she wonder what he's doing? Yes. Can she stop thinking about him? Maybe, maybe if she tries finding a place for the rest of her things—starting with that pin cushion.
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