With its limestone bricks, tall bay windows, and the fleurs-de-lis carved in the arch over the door, the LeVines’ house creates a grander impression than ours. It’s the type of place where even the details are maintained—bushes pruned into shape, toys tucked away, books dusted and spines aligned on shelves.
Tabitha answers my knock with downcast eyes and no smile.
“I’ll wait out here for you,” Walter says, and I don’t bother to argue.
Tabitha takes my hat and handbag. “They’re in the living room.”
The air is too warm and absent of the lemony, clean smell I associate with the LeVines. I never knew that fear had a feel, but I know now that Tabitha has closed the door. Fear is sticky. Suffocating.
Dr. and Mrs. LeVine are in their respective chairs, though they’ve been dragged from the front window to the phone table, which sits between them. Dr. LeVine has a collection of papers in his lap, and Mrs. LeVine clutches a hankie, which she twists this way and that. It’s the closest I’ve ever seen her come to sitting idle.
When Mrs. LeVine sees me, she rises to her feet, wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, and weeps. Mrs. LeVine, who rarely shows emotion during Lydia’s seizures. Who thinks I’m a bad influence on her daughters. Who sometimes winces—albeit discreetly—when she comes home and finds I’m at the house.
I pat her back with several stiff flicks of my wrist. “I came as soon as I could. Thank you for phoning.”
“We’re so glad to see you, Piper.” Dr. LeVine’s voice is weary.
Mrs. LeVine releases me and presses her handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. I’ve soaked your shoulder.”
Dear. “There’s no reason to apologize. It’s just a uniform.”
“I couldn’t help thinking that at this time of day, Lydia would be coming home in her Presley’s uniform . . .” Her chin trembles as her sentence fades away.
Blast my insensitivity. Why didn’t I think to change before rushing over here? Lydia certainly would have, had things been reversed.
Tears prick my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking—”
“Have the police spoken to you yet?” Dr. LeVine’s words are brusque as he reaches for his pipe.
“Yes.” I settle onto the edge of the couch and fold my hands in my lap. “Two detectives were at school to speak with Headmistress Robinson. One of them recognized me somehow. I don’t think I was very much help.”
Mrs. LeVine dabs at her eyes as she takes her seat again. “So Lydia hadn’t spoken to you about leaving?”
“No, ma’am. Well, except for Minnesota.”
“But she didn’t say she wanted to run away or anything?”
Saying she would accept a marriage proposal isn’t the same thing, right?
I shake my head.
Dr. LeVine packs tobacco into his pipe. “It’s not like our Lydia to do something rash like run away, all because Edna and I made a decision she didn’t like. But I find myself hoping all the same. The alternatives . . .”
A sob bursts from Mrs. LeVine. “I’ll go ask Tabitha to put on some coffee.” She bustles from the room with the handkerchief pressed to her mouth, muffling the noise.
When I catch Dr. LeVine subtly wiping away a tear, my own eyes pool.
He leans to hand me a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and then settles into his wingback chair to smoke. “We were confining her to the house until our appointment at the Mayo Clinic.” His voice is graveled. “She was angry, as I’m sure you already know, Piper. She wanted to tell you and to let the Barrow family know she could no longer watch Cole for them. Considering what she’s gone through these last six months, it seemed only fair. And so harmless . . .”
I’ve wadded my uniform skirt into my fists. I release it. Smooth it. “You can’t blame yourself, Dr. LeVine.”
“When we spoke to the Barrows, they said Lydia never arrived.” Emotion catches in Dr. LeVine’s voice. He covers his mouth with one of his large, life-saving hands. “I can’t bear to think she might have been taken.” The vulnerability of him, of the stoic doctor who served in the Great War, takes away my breath. “But I also can’t think of why my Lydia might trick us.”
“Her room has been searched, I assume? Which clothes are missing? Did she leave a letter?”
When Dr. LeVine shakes his head, it feels as if another brick crumbles from my certainty that this is nothing to panic about. “Everything is exactly in its place.”
“And . . . and no one else is missing?” There’s a wobble in my voice.
Dr. LeVine’s gaze sharpens to a point. “Who else would you expect to be missing?”
I swallow hard. “I only wondered if she went with a friend. If one of the other ladies of Lydia’s acquaintance is gone too.”