Chapter 10
On Friday morning Summer sent Kylie a message about the cardigan. She wrote that it was lovely, and that she was sorry not to have thanked her before.
Kylie replied while Summer was weighing flour.
You never needed to thank me. I’m glad you’ve seen it.
I spent ages deciding whether yellow was gender neutral.
Summer smiled at that, then put her phone on the shelf above the scales and finished weighing before she answered.
Yellow was good, she wrote. She liked yellow.
Later, Kylie asked whether they had found anything to wear to the masquerade.
Jonah forwarded the photo of the dress, then the ridiculous picture of them in masks and ordinary clothes.
Kylie sent back an enthusiastic reply about the blue and asked the name of the shop.
Jonah passed on its address, adding that there had been plenty of things left when they went.
That evening she trimmed bruised apples while Jonah spoke to Kylie in the sitting room. She heard him laugh, then insist that yes, she ought to send the museum a scathing answer. Summer put the usable pieces into a pan and went to find the cinnamon.
While she searched the cupboard, she heard Kylie’s voice through the speaker, asking whether Summer was working that evening.
Jonah said she was home and making something with apples, and Kylie’s next words dropped below what Summer could hear.
Summer paused with the cinnamon jar in her hand.
The call had been arranged before dinner; Kylie might only have been checking whether she was interrupting.
Summer unscrewed the lid and took it back to the stove.
He came into the kitchen afterward and told her Kylie had decided to decline the unpaid days. She was applying for other work and had asked him to read an application, though he doubted he would know anything useful about cataloging pictures.
During the following week the space behind the bakery counter became steadily less adequate.
Summer ordered more boxes, found somewhere to put them, then discovered she could no longer open the bottom drawer.
Macy kept moving them around the kitchen until they were navigating a maze with every batch of cookies.
By Friday they had closed the order book for Halloween.
Summer had to turn away three more requests before she believed she had actually done it.
At home the blue dress hung where she could see the pale skirt through its cover.
She bought low silver shoes and wore them while answering emails at the kitchen table, taking them off whenever she stood to fetch anything.
Jonah pointed out the flaw in this method, then offered his hand so she could walk around the room without looking down. She was improving at following him.
On Sunday, the last Sunday before Halloween, she came home from the bakery a little after two and found Kylie’s coat over a kitchen chair.
She knew Kylie was coming. Jonah had asked the night before whether she minded him looking over the application with her.
Summer had agreed, then lain awake listening to the rain.
He said they would work at the kitchen table, and she expected to be home before they finished.
There was a laptop open on the new table, two mugs beside it, and a page of notes so thoroughly crossed out that Summer could not tell whose handwriting it was.
“Hello?” She set her bag on the empty chair, careful to keep its damp base away from Kylie’s coat. Rain had started while she was locking up, and one shoulder of her own coat was wet through.
Jonah answered from the sitting room, where he was putting paper into the printer. “We’re just trying to get a clean copy. She says it’s impossible to read properly on the screen.” He turned to kiss Summer, touching the wet sleeve with a questioning look. “Did you walk all the way?”
“Only from the car. I had to go back for my phone.” She took off her coat and hung it on the back-door hook. There was still no sign of Kylie, and she assumed she was in the bathroom until a voice came from upstairs.
“Summer? Come and tell me what you did with these ribbons.” Kylie sounded close to the top of the stairs. “I can’t get them to lie flat.”
Summer looked at Jonah. He had turned back to the printer, which was drawing paper through with its usual labored reluctance. “She’s looking at your mask,” he said. “Hers has elastic and she says it keeps slipping.”
The silver mask was on their dresser, beside Jonah’s black one. Summer had tried it with her hair pinned up on Wednesday, turning to see how the ribbons lay against her neck. She went upstairs without taking off her wet shoes.
Kylie stood just inside their bedroom, facing the mirror above the dresser with the silver mask on. Her dark hair was lifted away from the ties in one hand. With the other she was feeling for the knot at the back of her head, the long ribbon ends hanging over the collar of her shirt.
“How did you manage?” she asked through the reflection. “If I pull it tighter it sits at an angle.” She let go of her hair, which fell against the ribbons, and turned enough for Summer to see that she had tied one side much shorter than the other.
“I tied it before I pinned my hair.” Summer remained in the doorway and felt irritation and bile rise in her throat. There was a gray smear beneath Kylie’s bag on the clean bedcover. The wardrobe was closed.
“That would explain it.” Kylie lifted both hands behind her head again. “Mine looks all right for about ten seconds, and then it starts walking down my nose. I wondered whether I should replace the elastic.” She worked at the knot and gave a small impatient breath when it tightened.
Summer crossed the room and unfastened it for her. The ribbon had twisted against itself; it needed only a gentle pull at the right place. She held out her hand when it was loose, and Kylie took the mask off and gave it to her, leaving a trace of warmth in its lining.
“Thank you.” Kylie checked her hair in the mirror. “Jonah said I could look at it. I wasn’t going through your things.”
Summer gathered the trailing ribbons. “You should have asked me.”
“Of course.” Kylie picked up her bag from the bed. “I didn’t think you’d mind. Jonah said it was fine.” She glanced at Summer’s face and added, “That’s not the same, obviously.”
Summer did not help her out of the silence.
From downstairs came the abrupt whir of the printer starting again, followed by Jonah saying something Summer could not make out.
Kylie moved toward the door, obliging Summer to step aside, and for a second they stood awkwardly close, both waiting for the other to go first.
“The dress is beautiful,” Kylie said. “I didn’t touch that.” Her gaze went toward the wardrobe, and Summer looked at the closed door. The gown was inside its cover.
Summer let her pass without answering. Downstairs, Kylie called cheerfully to Jonah about the printer. Summer stood looking at the gray smear on the bedcover until the house went quiet.
When Summer followed, carrying the mask, they were both at the kitchen table.
Jonah was reading the printed application with a pen in his hand.
Kylie stood beside him, looking down at the page, and the sight made Summer feel late for something in her own kitchen.
She put the mask on the counter, washed her hands, and opened the refrigerator because she had not eaten since seven.
“There’s bread. I got more, I know, we didn’t need it.” Jonah looked up with a rueful smile. “And I think some of that chicken.” He glanced at the mask, then at her. “Did you fix it?”
“It wasn’t broken.” She took out the plate of chicken and set it beside the bread. Kylie began gathering her papers before Jonah could answer.
“I should let you have your afternoon.” She slid the clean pages into a folder, leaving the crossed-out ones on the table. “That’s much better than it was. I’ll send it when I get home.” She smiled at Jonah. “Thank you.”
He stood, still holding the pen. “You don’t have to rush off. Stay and eat with us.” Summer kept her eyes on the loaf.
“I do, actually. Mom’s expecting me.” Kylie put the folder away and reached for her coat. “I’m sorry again about the mask, Summer. I should have waited.” Summer looked down at the knife in her hand.
“Yes, you should,” Summer said. She set the knife down beside the bread, waiting for Kylie to leave.
Jonah took Kylie to the door. Summer cut two slices of bread and heard them speak in the hall, their voices low. There was a short laugh from Kylie, then the door opened and the noise of the rain came briefly inside. Summer had finished making her sandwich by the time Jonah returned.
“What happened?” he asked. He put the pen beside the abandoned notes and pulled out a chair, but did not sit down. “She said she upset you.”
“Did you tell her she could try it on?” Summer asked. She took a bite of the sandwich while she waited for his answer; she was hungry enough to feel sick.
“I said she could look at the ties. She was looking at the picture on her phone and said she couldn’t get hers comfortable.” He waited while she swallowed. “I said yours was upstairs. I didn’t realize she was putting it on.”
“Did you show her the dress?” Summer left her sandwich on the plate.
“I opened the wardrobe and showed her the bag. She’d already seen the photo.” He sat down at last. “I took her up there. I didn’t think I was inviting her to do anything else.”
“I don’t want people trying my things in our bedroom while I’m out.” She said it without raising her voice. “You could have waited until I came home.”
“You were due back.” He rubbed the side of his face, then let his hand drop. “I thought we were all going to be here in a minute anyway. It wasn’t something I decided to do behind your back.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Summer said. “But it’s mine. A photograph doesn’t make it something anybody can put on.”