A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

MEREDITH
11 YEARS BEFORE
March
“Good morning,” Josh says as he appears in the kitchen doorway in
a slim-fit dark gray suit. He smiles at me, looking smart, competent. I
stand at the stove, already showered and dressed, making pancakes
and bacon for Josh and the kids. Josh comes to me. He wraps his
arms around me from behind and I get a whiff of him, of his shaving
cream and his cologne. “How’d you sleep?” he asks me.
“Okay,” I say, though I didn’t sleep well. Now I’m up early, feeling
anxious, wanting to know if Shelby is all right after her text last night.
I keep checking my phone, but it’s quiet. It has been since shortly
after three a.m. “How about you?” I ask, turning to face him. “How’d
you sleep?”
“Like a baby,” he says, kissing me. His kiss isn’t rushed. It goes on
far longer than the usual peck, which is all we ever have time for
before we’re interrupted by kids. His kiss is tender, unhurried, and I
find myself thinking how much I miss this, something as
commonplace as kissing my husband. Everything else falls by the
wayside. For one blissful minute, the anxiety of the last few days
abates.
And then, from upstairs, I hear a toilet flush: the first sign of life.
Delilah or Leo, whoever is up, will be down soon. Josh draws slowly
away, still smiling.
“What do you have on tap for today?” I ask and he tells me.
“Finalizing a deal with a prospective client. Hopefully.” He and his
team have been working on this pitch for some time. It would mean
the world to Josh and his career to land this client.
“What time is the meeting?”
“Eleven.”
“Good luck,” I tell him. “Not that you need it.” Josh is incredibly
good at what he does. He’s climbed the corporate ladder more