3. Dallas #2
“Lucy,” Sandra said, scolding, “this is a commitment. And you’re asking to break sequestration in week three? This doesn’t speak well for your ability to handle the stress of a partner in space.”
“Mason is not in space and he’s never going to space, so just tell him that Jack’s in big trouble, okay? Do whatever you have to do. But tell him I need him. We need him.” The dogs were watching her, cocking their heads at the intensity of her voice.
“Is this a health-related matter?” Sandra said. “Like, is your son physically okay?”
“Would that make a difference?”
“Not necessarily,” she said.
“Seriously, Sandra?” Lucy said. “This is stupid. Just give Mason a phone.”
“There’s currently a glitch in the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter UHF antenna. And unfortunately, Mason and the crew cannot be reached at this time.”
“ Please? ” Lucy said, indignant that Sandra would be so stubborn. “Make an exception? Just this once?”
“You signed up for this mission too,” Sandra said, as if Lucy were a child, “and you were told very clearly that communication blackouts would be an anticipated occurrence.”
“How long,” Lucy said, trying to keep her cool, “will this particular blackout be in effect?”
“I can’t answer that,” Sandra said. “But I can tell you that communication with Earth at this time would destroy the integrity of the entire project.”
“Wow. This is so not okay. And Mason’s going to be furious when he finds out,” Lucy snapped, and she hung up. Bunny and Tank were still watching her, waiting. “Mars, my ass ,” she said.
The doorbell rang, and the dogs started barking.
Lucy let them out in the backyard and went to the door, worried there might be an angry mob.
Instead, through the window she saw a stranger, a woman in cowboy boots and a long, tiered denim skirt.
She opened the door, taking in the smell of her neighborhood in early summer, cut grass and magnolia blossoms.
“Hi, I’m Sylvie,” the woman said. “I just bought the house next door to you.”
“Oh, hi,” Lucy said. “Welcome.” She’d seen the “For Sale” sign go up and the “For Sale” sign come down, all within a matter of hours and had been impressed by whoever made such a big decision in such a hurry.
Now she knew. “I’m Lucy,” she said, realizing she hadn’t brushed her teeth or her hair yet.
The timing for an introduction to her new neighbor could not have been worse.
“Real nice to meet you,” Sylvie said, putting out her hand.
She had turquoise bracelets on her wrist and pretty, silver rings.
“Sorry to come by so early. I’ll be moving down from Plano in a couple of weeks, and I just wanted to say a quick hello.
I’m planning on having a few people over for drinks to welcome myself to the neighborhood, once I get here and unearth the wineglasses.
No offense to the husbands,” she added, “but I thought it might be nice to meet the ladies around here first.”
It occurred to Lucy that this woman had to be the only person in a ten-mile radius who had not heard about her son and the infamous list he’d made. “My husband’s out of town anyway,” she said, “on a work thing. He’ll be gone awhile.”
Sylvie nodded sympathetically. “My ex traveled all the time,” she said.
“Come on in,” Lucy said.
“Only for a second. We don’t want your AC to escape.” Sylvie did a graceful little leap over the doormat and then looked around the entry.
“I just love y’all’s house,” she said as Lucy closed the door behind her.
“So unusual. I hope it’s okay if I ask for a few recommendations, like who cuts your grass and cleans your pool.
This is my first time living alone, not that my ex was much help around the house, but I’m sure as hell not climbing a ladder to clean my own gutters.
” Sylvie laughed, though Lucy thought she detected a little sadness.
From the kitchen she could hear Mason’s mother and her own talking in the kitchen and realized she’d never turned on the pot of coffee.
“I’ve always found meeting people easy, through school and whatnot,” Sylvie was saying, “but my kids are grown and flown. I’ve got a daughter in her last year of business school at Oklahoma State and a married son living in Atlanta. So I’m pretty much a one-woman show now.”
Lucy looked down at her pajamas. “Sorry about my appearance,” she said. “Today’s a little hectic. I’ve got relatives in town, busy eight-year-old twins, and a son who’s”—Lucy paused and glanced up the stairs—“considering a gap year,” she said.
“I remember what that’s like,” said Sylvie, nodding. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll drop off an invite for my party after I move.”
“Thank you,” Lucy said. But she doubted she would be going to Sylvie’s party, or to any party, or to anywhere else around town, including Starbucks or the Tom Thumb. What the hell was she going to do ?
“I’m hoping this is as nice a neighborhood as everyone says, but I admit,” Sylvie said, glancing behind her at the front door, “I’m having my doubts this morning.”
“Sorry?” Lucy said.
“Oh, I figured you knew. I hate to be the one to tell you this,” Sylvie said tentatively, “but somebody egged your front door.”
Lucy remembered the thumping she’d heard the night before and clenched her teeth.
She opened the door and stepped outside—eggshells and slime under her bare feet—and looked at the outside of the door.
“Well, how about that,” said Lucy. “I think—this must be one of those end-of-school pranks.” There had to be a dozen eggs smashed against the wood and puddled up on the doormat.
Lucy felt a stinging behind her eyes. “Kids,” she said, putting her hands out in a cartoonish shrug.
“That’s going to be a real pain to clean,” Sylvie said, carefully hopping back over the doormat. “You need a hand?”
“No thank you,” Lucy said, “I can manage. But thanks for telling me.”
“Sure. I guess you know already about the other… prank?”
“The other…?”
“Your car?” Sylvie said, and pointed toward the driveway.
Lucy stepped away from the broken eggs and saw Jack’s Prius sitting off-kilter, three of its tires slashed.
As bad as she’d thought the situation was, it was far, far worse.