“He seems happy.”
“You’re a big part of why your dad’s happy.”
“No, not really.”
“Really.”
Shay clasped her hands and then fidgeted and sat on them. Now I’d find out about the girls, maybe what the gossip at Josie’s was about. Small-town rivalries ran for decades and mean girls were always at the bottom of it. “It’s those girls, isn’t it? That’s been really stressful for you and your dad.” Shay nodded. “And probably Violet too.” Shay just shrugged. “Tell me the short version—you don’t have to go into detail. What’s going on?”
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“Absolutely. Tell me the truth.”
“Morgan used to be my best friend. Now she’s not.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re all weird.”
I was expecting mean, nasty, cruel. Not—weird. I kept looking at Shay then back to the road. Shay. Road. Shay. Road. Shay.
“What?” Shay’s sarcasm was laced with clichéd teenage hostility. “You said you wanted the truth.”
*
Shay said nothing else until I pulled into her driveway. I wanted to ask her what “weird” meant, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The few words that trickled from my brain stayed lodged in my throat. I couldn’t even come up with a reprimand, or a piece of passé advice.
I was in over my head.
“Will you pick me up from art class tomorrow?”
“I think we should talk about—”
“No, we shouldn’t. You’re coming back tonight, though, right?”
Shay’s jawline softened. Pizza and pictures. And weird. “I’ll be over about six.”
“Dad’s not usually home until about seven.”
“That’s okay. You and I can have some more girl time.”
Shay looked at me, eyes wide. I mimicked her and stared back, daring her to bar me from the house, her life, and whatever was going on.
*
I parked at the end of Grand Street and called Annie.
“This is getting to be a habit. I like it,” she said. “How’s Mayberry?”
Today the small-town jab cut deep. “Not good.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you know anything about preteen girls?”
“Aren’t you in the land of maternal overlords?”
“I guess. Well, would you do me a favor? It’s a biggie. Actually, it’s two favors.”
“Sure.”
“First, I need you to go to Simon’s and get my dry cleaning out of the closet in the blue guest room and send it to me. Second, don’t tell him what you’re doing.”
“You want me to steal your own clothes for you and keep it a secret. Can I ask why?”
“I need my work clothes and they’re in there.”
“You’re in your hometown and the bride wants you to wear your penguin outfit? I thought these were friends of yours. Maybe it’s time you transitioned out of your uniform phase of life, and this would be a good time to start. Go buy yourself something. They have a mall there, right?”
“Maybe another time. Just do this for me, please?”
“Why don’t you just ask Simon to send it all to you? He is capable of calling FedEx, you know. He could probably even put it in a box himself.” Annie laughed. “He keeps asking if you’ve called. Maybe you’re right. He’d probably shove himself into the box if I told him.”
“I’ll call him, I promise. I just don’t want to involve him in this, that’s all. It’s like old home week for me. Old friends…”
“I don’t know, if I had someone like Simon in my life, I’d want to show him where I grew up.”
“I can’t, Annie. Not yet.”
“I think you’re crazy, but I’d do anything for you.”
“Oh, thank you! Just get the black pants, and two white tops to me before the wedding on Sunday. Tell Simon I asked you to put the clothes in the office closet.”
“Leave the details to me.”
“I always do! What would I do without you?”
“End up staying in Mayberry.”
“Annie!”
“Yes, I know. Chance, Ohio. Now, I need your address.”
“Thanks, I owe you.”
“You’re right, you owe me.” Annie sometimes blurred the friend/boss line, but then again, so did I. With her and with Simon. “Now, with that taken care of, I have to tell you about this possible client who called today,” she said. “You are not going to believe—”
“No, Annie, I can’t. Not now.”
*
“Thanks for letting me come over.”
“You’re always welcome here. You sounded stressed.”
I followed behind Josie, who’d changed from her work clothes into a short—maybe just a little too short—denim skirt and a fitted scoop-neck white T-shirt that showed off her tan along with everything else. We walked through the kitchen, which looked as if it had never been used, when it had been filled with food and friends fewer than twenty-four hours earlier.
“You need a drink,” Josie said. “It’s Tanqueray and Tonic Tuesday, you know!”
“Just water or iced tea for me.”
“I think you need something stronger, but okay.”
What I needed was a way to get Shay to open up. I didn’t want to be on the perimeter anymore, not now that I’d seen—been invited—inside her life. Or at least part of it. That would require a clear head and some assistance.
I carried two glasses filled with ice, and Josie carried a pitcher of tea through the house and into the formal living room, which had a Southern flair.
“It was inspired by our trip to Charleston,” Josie said as if she’d been reading my mind.
I felt as if I’d stepped into a preppy kaleidoscope. The walls were either hand painted or wallpapered in shamrock green with flecks of white, which upon closer inspection were tiny hand-painted pineapples. Gold-framed artwork and photos covered one wall as if it were a gallery. The couch and chairs were covered in soft white linen (with three boys!) while the accent pillows and one meticulously placed throw were a combination of green, bright pink, and multihued plaids. A hotel-size bouquet of color-coordinated tropical flowers graced the white marble fireplace mantel in front of an oversized mirror.
Josie pulled open a set of triple doors and left them ajar.
“This is the piazza,” she said.
It reminded me of Savannah—though Josie said Charleston. The South. Same to me, although I knew that was geographically incorrect, as was the architecture of the house. But the details were on point, with the low wicker wrap-around furniture, the columns, and the slow-moving ceiling fans that almost insisted I slow down and sit. So I did.
Josie set the pitcher on a low table and I poured our glasses full. Then I sat on the chaise, the tufted cushion making way for me. It was soft, yet supportive. When I lifted my legs I felt relief, as if I was weightless and could drift away in the nonexistent sea.
“I almost forgot I’m in Chance.” I snuggled into the corner among the mountain of pillows, and closed my eyes.
I heard Josie drop onto the sofa to my right. “I love it here, but I’ll tell you a secret. That’s the point.”
*
“She said ‘weird,’ huh?” Josie sipped her drink and looked off into the yard. “Kind of un-PC, these days, don’t you think?”