Chapter 30. Holly
Holly
Holly tapped her foot in a quick rhythm. Sensing trouble, Chester sprang off the couch and padded away. Smart kitty.
“Your parents are alive and well, aren’t they, Jade?
” said Holly, who suddenly felt solidarity with beleaguered moms and dads of deceptive teens everywhere.
She remembered being young and stupid herself.
Her mother had her hands full back then—two daughters bubbling with hormones, primed for poor decision-making, and only a grandfather to help keep the peace.
“Are they alive and well?” she pressed. “Did you steal that poor boy’s story from the GoFundMe page?”
“Yeah, I did,” Jade admitted. “And my parents might be alive, but they’re not well. Besides, I don’t call Buck Dad. He’s essentially dead to me—so it’s not entirely a lie.”
Holly probed Jade’s eyes and saw real pain. Although she was irate and dumbfounded, she empathized. Something intense had to have been going on to make her lie, cheat, and steal.
“I went to high school with that kid, so that’s how I knew about the accident. He’s a grade younger. I thought it was a good cover story.”
“It’s a brilliant cover,” said Holly. “It worked on me, and I’m a fiction writer.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you,” said Jade, with an apologetic smile.
“And I’m sorry you and your father are at odds.
I feel for you, I do. But I want to talk to your parents now.
They must be worried sick about you. They need to know you’re safe, and I need to apologize for my role in all this.
” Holly slapped her hand against her forehead.
“And then I want you to pack your bags. You need to go home. You’ve been staying in my house under false pretenses. That’s unacceptable.”
Jade’s face crumpled. “Holly, no, please. Please—you can’t.”
Sorrow stabbed between Holly’s ribs. She felt like she was punishing herself, too. The house felt lonelier, and Jade hadn’t even left yet. Something about having her around was comforting. It was sort of like caring for Chester, only she didn’t have to change the litter box.
The bottom line was that she liked the girl, despite her lying.
Holly found Jade spunky and daring. She was the embodiment of the characters she loved to write about: people hurtling through life on the razor’s edge of control, desperate for happiness, willing to put everything on the line to get it.
Maybe that was why Jade’s betrayal felt so personal.
She admired her and saw qualities in the young woman that she wished to embody.
Even though Jade was young and impulsive, Holly had to give her credit for taking fearless action in all her decisions.
Meanwhile, what was Holly doing? Had she become a secondary character in her own story?
So guilt-ridden over Anna, so afraid and trapped in grief, that she’d run away from her life, exited center stage—to do what?
Cocoon herself in New York, writing about other people to avoid looking in the mirror?
That’s why writing was more important than sales.
She sought an immersive distraction from herself.
Her habit of hiding in plain sight bled into every corner of her existence—even her choice of men.
Emotionally stunted. Unavailable. Max, meanwhile, she’d hoisted onto a pedestal so high that no one could ever measure up.
That way, she had a good excuse for never finding her person. She didn’t have to try.
Following Anna’s death, Holly had become a hollowed-out version of the woman she aspired to be. She’d transformed into the kind of fictional character even she couldn’t relate to. Worse than unlikable—she was forgettable.
When she died, who would care?
Shae, for one … and Chester, of course. Dan would be sad, but not for long. There’d be another Holly to pluck out of the slush pile. Serena might mourn. Gail would probably wipe away a few tears while hammering the For Sale sign into the ground. Ethan might lament the lost work.
Was that it? The sum total of all the people in her world? The thought stung. Her funeral would be like one of those movie scenes without the money to hire enough extras.
Somehow, in a strange way, Jade felt like … family.
Holly battled back a wave of melancholy. She had practical matters to attend to. “I’m sorry, Jade. But I have a responsibility here.”
Jade’s lips quivered. The girl was on the verge of a breakdown—anyone could see that. And this wasn’t an act.
“You don’t know my parents. I can’t go back there,” she pleaded. “My father’s abusive—I can never do anything right. He called me a whore, all because I got my belly button pierced without his permission.”
Holly winced as though the insult had been directed at her. She suspected Jade did need parental permission, but the reaction was unquestionably abusive, if true. Then again, she had to remind herself that Jade didn’t exactly have a love affair with facts.
“He’s always pissed at me. I don’t clean the house right, I’m not respectful enough, my grades aren’t good enough. This from a guy who works for Busy Bee Septic—I mean, he literally sucks shit for a job.”
Holly couldn’t stifle a laugh. Jade joined in, laughing through her tears. The anger between them dissipated.
“Where’s your mother in all this?” Holly asked.
“My mother is afraid of being alone, so she never stands up to him. Makes excuses instead. Dad’s tired.
He works hard to provide. He loves us, he just doesn’t know how to show it.
It’s bullshit. She uses vodka as a lie chaser—helps make her self-deception a little less bitter.
And I don’t blame her,” Jade added. “She knows exactly how he treats me, because he does the same to her. And then, to keep from getting hit, she’ll join in.
At least that’s what I tell myself because I don’t want to think my mother is that shitty. But maybe she is.”
Jade’s whole demeanor shifted. She seemed resigned to her fate.
Her shoulders sagged forward. “I’ll go pack my things.
I’m not going back there, but I’ll be out of your way in no time—and thanks, Holly, for everything.
I mean it. Being here with you has been the best few days I’ve had in a long time. ”
Her face was so downcast that it dragged Holly’s heart to the floor. She waited until Jade got halfway up the stairs before calling her name. “Jade—don’t. Just … let’s talk about it.”
Jade whirled on the stairs, came back down, standing tall, fixing Holly with a defiant stare. “Give me your phone, I lost mine on my way to Beauport.” She held out her hand.
“Got it. No aunt, and no phone.”
Jade kept her hand open, again asking for Holly’s device. “You talk to them, and if you think I’m exaggerating after the conversation, I’ll be on the next bus out of town—that is, if you don’t mind lending me the bus fare. I don’t get paid until next week.”
Holly agreed. Jade keyed in a number before handing the phone back to Holly. A moment later, she heard a woman’s voice—slurred and surly.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
Holly cleared her throat, unnerved. “Are you Jade Jensen’s mother?” she asked.
“What the fuck did she do this time?”
Holly inhaled sharply. “Um, nothing,” she said, feeling suddenly off-balance. “I’m just letting you know that she’s fine. She’s in Beauport, Massachusetts. She made her way here, and she’s been staying with me. I’m sorry. I’m Holly Sinclair. I should have introduced myself.”
Why was she so nervous? They were just two adults having a chat about a troubled teen. But something was notably off. She’d heard no sigh of relief, no vocal cue to suggest joy or elation. Holly might be conversing with a zombie.
“Huh? Whatta you talkin’ about? Jade’s with you?” This woman was also blotto. All her words ran together.
In the background, Holly heard a gruff man yell: “Hey—who is it? Is that a telemarketer? Tell ’em to fuck off.”
Jade stood to the side. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but her expression implied she knew how it was going. Holly heard loud footsteps in the background. Suddenly the man’s voice was blaring in her ear.
“Hey, fuck off, all right,” he spat. “We don’t need whatever shit you’re selling.”
Holly grimaced. “No, I’m with your daughter, Jade. She’s okay. I simply wanted you both to know that, and—”
“Put her on. Put that bitch on.”
Holly blinked hard. His harsh words stole her breath. She wanted to reach through the phone, grab this jackass by the neck and wring it until he cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry—what did you just say?” Holly practically spit out the words.
“You heard me. Put that bitch on.”
Holly handed Jade the phone, though she second-guessed whether she should.
Jade, bless her heart, put the call on speaker.
“You took two hundred dollars from the dresser. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Good lord. Those are the first words out of this horrid man’s mouth? How dare he!
“So what if I did?” Jade clapped back.
The man grunted like cattle. “So it’s not your fucking money to take, Jade.”
“Then I didn’t take it.”
“You’re such a liar.”
Holly thought of calling the police to report this abuse, but what would they do? Naturally they’d try to find a safe place for Jade to stay—but she had one already.
Holly had heard enough. She took the phone back.
Jade might well have stolen the money, but if she had, whatever she took wasn’t nearly enough to cover the damage this monster had inflicted.
Holly’s tone was fierce when she spoke, her words clipped like shears.
“Mr. Jensen, sir,” she barked, the term of respect delivered mockingly.
“Jade will be staying with me for the foreseeable future. I’ll leave it up to her to decide when, and if, she’ll contact you again.
I thought I should inform you that she’s safe and cared for.
That’s all I have to say. I’ll get your address from Jade and send you the two hundred dollars so you have no reason to get in touch. Goodbye.”
She ended the call with a tap of her finger, half expecting Buck to call back, but he didn’t. Thank goodness for small miracles. Maybe he’d use her number to track her down, but Holly doubted he cared enough to bother.
“What a horrible human being,” Holly said.
“He’s that and more,” said Jade, exhaling with relief.
“Thanks for sticking up for me, but you don’t have to pay him back.
I mean, yeah, I took the money—I couldn’t have left town without it.
That’s actually when I found my necklace, going through their stuff looking for cash.
But Buck’s a total piece of shit who deserves a lot worse than losing a couple hundred dollars. ”
Holly couldn’t agree more. “True, but it’s better if we settle the books with him,” she said.
“And you can stay here as long as you’d like.
You might need to chip in a little for food, but not until you start getting paid.
Sorry, money is tight here, too. And we do need to get you a new phone.
I don’t want you at the Carmichaels’ with no way to call me if there’s an emergency. ”
Jade beamed with relief. Her joy was so palpable it could have hugged Holly on its own.
“Thank you, thank you—and I’m happy to contribute whatever I can,” she said. “But I have one request. Since I came clean, I think you should, too.” With a glint in her eye, she produced an old photograph from her pocket and handed it to Holly.
“This was taken at Maeve’s last Barefoot Beach Ball, celebrating Conrad’s engagement to a woman I didn’t even know existed until today. You told me you hadn’t worked there, and that Beach Thriller was pure fiction. Want to explain?”
Jade pointed to a figure in the background of the photograph, a young woman in a caterer’s uniform holding a silver serving tray. “Does she look familiar?”
Holly didn’t answer, but the truth was written all over her face.
“That’s you,” Jade said. “I’m sure of it. And did you know there was also a guesthouse on the property? What a coincidence. Now it’s nothing but ruins. It looks like it burned down.”
Holly finally found her voice. “Where are you going with all this?”
“You found it strange how my story mirrored that GoFundMe page. Well, I find it odd that you’re a caterer in this photo at Conrad’s bougie engagement party, just like you wrote in Beach Thriller. I suspect there’s more truth to your fictional tale than you’re letting on.”
Holly swallowed hard. She couldn’t meet Jade’s eyes.
“Okay, you got me. The book is based on some real-life events,” she admitted.
Jade flashed a victory smile. “I knew it—and to me that makes the story even better.”
Holly shrugged off the encouragement. “Doesn’t matter, I can’t finish it.”
“Writer’s block?” Jade tossed out the term like she’d experienced it herself.
“Until I know what happened to my sister on the night she died, that story is dead, too.”
Jade’s eyes caught fire. “I think I can help with that.”