Chapter Thirteen Harriet #2
I haven’t been out of the continental U.S.
since my junior year of college, when Maggie, Steven, and I met up in Cancun, and Steven and I almost got arrested for indecent exposure.
Thank god Maggie was there to persuade the policía to let us go—it was actually the moment we all realized she’d make a fantastic lawyer.
I spent the next few years promising myself I’d travel more as soon as work slowed down. But—spoiler alert—it never slowed down. Not until the day it stopped completely.
Speaking of work.
I clear my throat. “Hey, I was wondering. About the other night…”
“The other night?” Vicky asks as she pulls open the fridge.
“Gogo likes milk in her tea, but I don’t know if your dad—ah, here we go.
” She reappears, carton in hand. “Of course. George. I tried calling your mother, but she hasn’t gotten back to me.
I meant to reach out to you too, but, well—things have been so busy with your grandmother. How are you holding up?”
I swallow. “My mom’s mostly been holed up in her room. I don’t think she’s really talked to anyone, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“Don’t worry.” She sets the milk on the counter and checks the pot. “I know better than to take anything your mother does personally. I hope she’s holding up. Please tell her to reach out if she needs anything, okay?”
I nod. “I will.”
I should ask her now. This is the perfect chance; we’re already talking about it… Why am I having so much trouble getting the words out of my mouth?
“Can I ask you something?” The words clunk from my mouth, heavy and awkward, but I need to ask my questions before I lose another chance to get some answers.
She picks up a tea bag from the counter and rips the package open. “Of course. What’s up?”
I wrap my palms around my upper arms. “I’ve been thinking about what happened to George and…I don’t know. I have some questions?”
Her eyebrows arch, and she sets the steaming cup back on the island. “What do you mean? Don’t they have a suspect in custody?”
“They do.” I consider whether to tell Vicky about my article and what Nic and I have planned, but I’m not totally sure if she’d be on board with it.
“I’m trying to understand how something like that could have happened.
You know? Out on the beach, behind my mom’s house. During my birthday party! It’s insane.”
Much to my surprise, tears spring into corners of my eyes.
“Hey.” Vicky sets the mug down. She walks over and wraps her arms around my shoulders, which only serves to expand the lump in my throat. “Are you okay?”
I nod into her hair. “Yes. Sorry. The past few days have just been a lot. I’m tired.”
She pulls back, studying my face. “Understandable. I wish I could help answer your questions, but I must admit—the night is a bit of a blur.”
I sniff, giving her a little smile. “They were pouring heavy.”
“They were,” Vicky agrees. “I—” Her phone begins to buzz on the counter, and she cuts off. She picks it up, frowning at the screen. “Shoot. Work. Do you mind making Gogo’s tea and taking it in to her? I have to grab this.”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Thanks, Harriet,” she says and picks up the call.
I find Gogo’s still sitting on the couch where I left her, fiddling with her jacket. My heart twists. She looks so fragile, so much smaller than she used to.
She takes the mug from me carefully. “Where’s Vic?”
“Phone. Work.”
Gogo’s lips press together. “Of course she is. That woman works too much! I always imagined she’d come back stateside eventually, but it seems more and more like it’ll never happen. At least not while I’m still here to see it.”
“Gogo. Stop.” I hate when she talks like that.
She’s quiet for a beat, then: “It’s so nice to see you, peanut. I’ve been worried about you. Your ex stopped by my house a few days ago, as handsome as ever—”
I stiffen. Et tu, Gogo?
“—and an even bigger ego. Which is really saying something, isn’t it?” She grins and pats me on the hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I remember how he behaved after graduation. I can’t believe he’s the detective on this case. Have you had to see him?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately. He came by my mom’s to ask us some questions. Actually.” I lean toward her, seizing the opening. “I have some questions of my own about it. Did you notice anything strange that night?”
“Anything strange?” Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Anyone who seemed—”
She interrupts. “I thought I saw a newspaper article that said an arrest was made. Am I mistaken?”
“You are not,” I admit.
She studies me over her tea. “Are you doing the thing you do?”
“The thing?” I say, pretending like I have no idea what she means.
“Your nosiness. It’s why you were so good at your job at that tabloid—”
“Online magazine,” I interject.
“—but also why you were almost expelled your junior year of high school. Remember? You thought something fishy was going on with the swim team, so you snuck into the locker room while the boys were changing—”
I clear my throat. One of the issues with family: They know everything about your past misdeeds. “Oh, right. That. This isn’t that! I’m just curious.”
“Curious? Didn’t curiosity kill the cat, Harriet?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, good thing I’m not a cat. I’m asking for my own sanity. It happened right outside my mom’s house, and I’m staying there. What if…I don’t know. What if the cops got it wrong? What if whoever killed George comes back? Just help me put my mind at ease. Please.”
She takes a small sip of tea. “All right. I’m happy to indulge you. Let’s see. I saw you talking to an attractive man at one point.”
Nic. It has to be Nic. He was by far the hottest man at the party. Even though it’s annoying to admit.
“I know I’ve been single for a while, but seeing me talk to a man was strange?”
“Not strange so much as…surprising. I distinctly remember you saying one of the reasons you didn’t want to move back to the island was because of the—how did you put it? The ‘inbred dating pool’?”
That does sound like me.
“Yeah, and?”
“I’m just answering your question.”
“As you well know, I meant anything strange with other people.”
She winks. “Oh, silly me. Well, let me think. Well, there was an odd situation between George and a caterer—”
“The fight?”
She shakes her head and settles her teacup on its coaster. “No, no. Not the chef. A boy. He kept following George around. Did you notice that?”
“I didn’t. Who was it?”
“Hmm, not the handsome one you were flirting with—”
“I was not flirting!” More like sticking my foot so far down my throat it choked me.
“Whatever you say, dear. Either way, the one who I’m talking about was younger.
He seemed on edge. Every time he came out of the kitchen, he went straight to George.
George kept waving him off, and each time, the boy’s face…
well! It just crumpled. But you know how your stepfather was.
It wasn’t unusual for him to get into tiffs with the waitstaff. ”
“That is true.” I file this piece of information away to ask Nic about. There’s a part of me that wonders if I can rely on Gogo’s memory, but the way she was teasing me about Nic, the details she mentioned—she seems steady. Certain. “Did you notice anything else?”
Gogo rubs her chin. “I’m not sure.”
She gazes down into her teacup, and I wait.
Finally, she looks back up, and I can tell immediately that something has changed. The light behind her eyes has dimmed. “Where’s Vicky?” she asks.
“Probably still on her work call. But did you—”
“I wish she’d move back, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen, does it? At least not while I’m still around.”
My heart cracks in two. She’s so sharp one minute and so lost the next. I should say something to Vicky or even my dad, but it feels like a betrayal.
I wonder if they know. I wonder if we all know, and we’re all pretending it’s not happening. Hoping it will go away.
I chew my bottom lip, a heaviness settling in my chest. “I love you, you know.” My voice is tight, choked by withheld tears.
Gogo pats my hand. “I love you too, peanut.”