“I don’t think that’s surprising, considering the scenario,” Sonia answered.
I didn’t move a muscle. Apparently Howard didn’t think sound traveled through open windows.
He lowered his voice. “Of course. It was just kind of a surprise. Hadley was so . . .”
“Lively? She really was. But Lina might surprise you. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she turned out to have some of her mother’s oomph.”
He laughed quietly. “?‘Oomph.’ ?That’s one way to put it.”
“Give her a little time.”
“Of course. Thanks again for dinner—it was delicious.”
“My pleasure. I’m planning on posting up at the visitors’ center tomorrow morning. Will you be in the office?”
“In and out. I’d like to be off early so I can take Lina into town.”
“Sounds good. Night, boss.” Sonia’s footsteps crunched down the gravel driveway and a moment later the front door opened and then closed again.
I forced my eyes shut, but it was like I had soda pop running through my veins. What had Howard expected? That I’d be overjoyed about moving in with someone I’d never met? That I’d be superexcited about living in a cemetery? It’s not like it was a big secret that I hadn’t wanted to come here. I’d agreed only when my grandma had pulled out the big guns: You promised your mom.
And why did he have to call me “quiet”? I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency—like just because I didn’t put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.
Tears flooded my eyes and I rolled over, pressing my face into my pillow. Now that it had been more than six months, I could sometimes go whole hours pretending to be okay without her. But it never lasted long. Turns out reality is as hard and unforgiving as that fire hydrant Addie and I had run into.
And I had to live the whole rest of my life without her. I really did.
Chapter 3
“LOOK, THAT WINDOW’S OPEN. SOMEONE must be here.”
The voice was practically in my ear and I sat bolt upright. Where was I? Oh. Right. In a cemetery. Only now it was saturated with sunlight, and my bedroom was 890 degrees. Give or take a hundred.
“Wouldn’t you think they’d have signs telling you where to go?” It was a woman’s voice, her accent as tangy as barbeque sauce.
A man answered. “Gloria, this looks like a private residence. I don’t think we should be poking around—”
“Yoo-hoo! Hello? Anyone home?”
I pushed off my covers and got out of bed, tripping over a smattering of decorative pillows. I was still fully dressed. I’d been so tired that pajamas hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Hell-ooo,” the woman trilled again. “Anyone there?”
I gathered my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t scare anyone, then went over to the window to see two people who matched their voices exactly. The woman had fire-engine-red hair and wore high-waisted shorts, and the man wore a fishing hat and had a massive camera around his neck. They were even wearing fanny packs. I stifled a giggle. Addie and I had once won a costume contest dressed as Tacky Tourists. These two could have been our inspiration.
“Hell-o,” Real-Life Tacky Tourist said slowly. She pointed at me. “Do you speak-a the English?”
“I’m American too.”
“Thank the heavens! We were just looking for Howard Mercer, the superintendent? Where can we find him?”
“I don’t know. I’m . . . new here.” The view caught my eye and I looked up. The trees outside my window were a rich, velvety green and the sky was maybe bluer than I’d ever seen. But I was still in a cemetery. I repeat: Still. In. A. Cemetery.
Tacky Tourist looked at the man, then back up at me, settling her weight into one hip like You can’t get rid of me that easily.
“I’ll check to see if he’s in the house.”
“Now you’re talking,” she said. “We’ll be around front.”
I unzipped my suitcase and changed into a tank top and running shorts, then found my shoes and headed downstairs. The main floor was pretty small and, besides Howard’s bedroom, the only room I hadn’t seen yet was the study. I knocked just in case, then pushed my way inside. The walls were lined with framed Beatles albums and photographs, and I stopped to look at a picture of Howard and a few other people throwing buckets of water on a huge, gorgeous elephant. Howard was wearing cargo pants and a safari hat and looked like the star of some kind of adventure nature show. Howard Bathes Wild Animals. He obviously hadn’t spent the past sixteen years sitting around missing my mom and me.