CHAPTER SIX
Sunday, March 26
Kathryn
The clock that hung on the burnt-orange wall at Deja Brew had the word coffee scribbled in lieu of each of the twelve hours, the kind of intentional whimsy that made Kathryn’s caffeine headache rap harder at her temples. She’d pushed herself at the gym, tried to run off her stress, tacked on two extra miles on the treadmill. Now her legs were rubbery, and she needed at least half a latte under her belt before she had to face Harper.
“Regina!” the barista shouted and set a cup on the bar. “Nonfat latte, one pump of sugar-free hazelnut.”
Kathryn shut her eyes. It couldn’t possibly be the same Regina—
“Oh, hi, Kathryn.” That voice. That tone, like a flat Diet Coke.
Kathryn opened her eyes to her neighbor Regina Wilson in her tennis whites, collecting her latte. “Regina. It’s been a while.”
Regina’s eyes panned to the crowd, like she wanted to run, then thought better of it and looked back to Kathryn. “I heard about Max’s little mishap.” She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. “Is he okay?”
Great. Now the whole town knew about Max’s accident. Kathryn bristled. “He’s fine, thankfully.”
“Good to hear,” Regina offered with a veneered smile.
Regina had put the money she’d been awarded in her divorce to good use, Kathryn noted, in the ample breast implants bursting from her tank top, the key fob that dangled from her hand to the pristine Mercedes that Kathryn saw gliding from Regina’s driveway.
“On the bright side, he got to replace that clunker he’d been driving.”
Kathryn had selected the red Audi for herself, fully loaded, and had driven it for two years before she’d upgraded and gifted the car to Max on his sixteenth birthday. It was hardly a clunker. She could feel her mouth turn into a frown before she had a mind to stop it.
“Anyway, it’s been fantastic chatting with you.” Regina glanced at her Rolex, her slim, tanned legs already aimed at the exit. “But I’ve got tennis in ten, gotta run—”
“Regina, wait.” Kathryn’s swallow was dry when Regina turned around. “Maybe I’m being paranoid here, but ever since your divorce, I can’t help but think you’ve been avoiding me.”
“Well.” Regina lifted her chin, her voice clipped. “I saw you and Dan together at the Rosses’ barbecue.”
“Excuse me?” Kathryn’s mind spun. Two years earlier, when an invitation to a Saturday-afternoon “luau” had been deposited in her mailbox, Kathryn had reflexively tossed it in the recycle bin, but the hibiscus-print card had snagged something in her. She’d lived in the neighborhood for twelve years without socializing with her neighbors. So she’d tugged on a sundress and crossed the street with a Tupperware of broccoli salad in hand and a scowling Max at her side. She’d planned to down a mai tai, exchange pleasantries, alleviate a decade’s worth of neighborly guilt, then retreat to her bedroom and her sweatpants before Law Would he call, would he not? ), her rope snapped. “Nobody planned anything that happened, Harper.”
Harper’s eyes locked on to Kathryn’s. “Luke asked you to look after her. I know he did. And he paid you for it, too.”
Kathryn steadied herself. When she’d spoken to Emmy, the girl’s eyes had hit Kathryn like a slap—two different colors, one brown, one lighter, with a cluster of gold. Like Max, Emmy had her father’s eyes, a sight that proved to be far more haunting than Kathryn had anticipated. “We’ve been through this.” A flash of a memory. Broken glass glinting on the floor. “That’s not true.”
Harper’s lips trembled, and her eyes misted. Kathryn gripped her cup, silently begging her not to cry. Kathryn huffed a sigh. “Harp, let me talk to Emmy. I’ll see what I can do.”
To Kathryn’s relief, Harper accepted Kathryn’s twig of an olive branch and gathered herself with a small nod. Over the two nights that had passed since her encounter with Andrew, the hours stretched by insomnia, Kathryn had ached for a girlfriend to confide in. She and Harper were here, seated across from each other, a stone wall between them. In another life maybe they could have ridden the tides of life united. Instead of years of silence between them. Of suspicions. “Andrew is back,” Kathryn blurted.
Harper’s eyes rounded.
“I mean, I saw him. Face-to-face. He moved to Delray.”
“Did you tell him?” Harper’s words came out in a whisper.
Kathryn nodded. “I told him about Max.”
“Kat ...” That one syllable and Kathryn was snapped back in time. They were eighteen, she and Harper whispering about their crushes. The first time Harper had mentioned Lucas, Kathryn could see in her friend’s eyes that this boy was different. This was the one who would change everything.
But this wasn’t that Harper. This Harper had sad eyes, crinkles at the corners, frown lines around her lips. She sat back, eyed Kathryn with apprehension. “Don’t do it to him, Kathryn,” Harper warned. “Not again.”
Emmy
The afternoon sun glittered off the surface of the pool as Emmy spread her pink-and-white-striped towel onto a lounger. She wrestled her ringlets into a topknot, popped a piece of strawberry bubble gum in her mouth, and settled onto a lounge chair. With the palm leaves swaying above her against a cloudless sky, and beams of sun cutting across the yard, she peeled her book open and relaxed her shoulders. Emmy sailed through one chapter, then the next, the pages sticking to her sweaty fingers.
The rattle of the patio door snapped her attention from the story. Max stepped onto the deck, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Morning.”
Emmy tapped her phone. “It’s twelve thirty.”
“Afternoon, then.” He tossed his towel onto a chair, then dove into the pool, shattering the surface before he pulled himself onto a blue inflatable raft. He brushed his hair from his face, settled on his back, and shut his eyes. From behind her sunglasses, Emmy watched droplets run down his lean, toned torso, noting the way his skin was a few shades lighter around the waistband of his shorts. Something stirred inside her. A memory of his invasive eyes boring into hers in the hallway the day before. It was hard to reconcile this Max with the boy she’d known, who, like most things in her childhood, she recalled in idea more than practice, a vague recollection of warmth toward him.
After overhearing Max’s argument with Kathryn, Emmy hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. She’d waited for the house to fall silent before tiptoeing into the (thankfully) deserted kitchen. Kathryn’s house was the opposite of Emmy’s grandmother’s; it was welcoming, smelled of coffee and dish soap, the open-concept first floor light and airy, all hardwood floors bathed with sunlight that spilled in from the southern-facing windows. The coffeepot was full, and she’d gratefully filled a mug, poured a bowl of cereal, and then returned to the guest room, where she’d burrowed under her duvet and spent the remainder of the day watching trashy dating shows. She tried not to look at her phone, but when she did, the blank screen screamed her mother’s rejection, and Emmy stuffed it beneath her pillow.
In the evening, Kathryn had knocked on her door to say she’d be going out for a few hours, and to ask Emmy for her laundry. “There’s sandwich stuff in the fridge,” Kathryn had said apologetically. She was intimidatingly pretty, even without makeup, though shadowy purple half circles smudged beneath her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not much of a cook. Max is better at it, but only when the mood strikes him.” Kathryn nudged a shoulder toward Max’s closed bedroom door. “I’ll bring home a rotisserie chicken tomorrow when I go shopping; that’s kind of our Sunday ritual.” Kathryn gave Emmy a weak smile. “Is there anything you need?”
“I’m okay, thank you,” Emmy said. She and Harper had never had a Sunday ritual, or anything close to it.
Aside from their brief conversation, Emmy hadn’t spoken to Kathryn for the remainder of Saturday. Apparently it was a house of closed doors; everyone stayed in their space and interacted only occasionally, which suited Emmy.
At the pool Emmy narrowed her focus onto her book. She’d been engrossed in—okay, obsessed with—the first three books in the series since January, enough to distract herself from life at her grandmother’s house, but now she found herself skimming the same line again and again.
Eventually, Max sat up, slipped off the raft, and swam to the edge of the pool. “How’s your book?”
“Ugh, amazing.” Emmy let a dreamy sigh drain from her. She’d fallen hard for the male protagonist. Max’s eyes matched the color of the pool water. She snapped her gum; she had no intention of letting him know she hadn’t read a word since he’d come outside.
Max rested his tanned arms on the edge of the deck. “Let me guess: innocent girl meets bad boy, boy acts like he isn’t interested and treats her like shit, but she falls for him anyway, and he goes all soft and they live happily ever after?”
Emmy considered the cover of her novel, a silhouette of a boy and a girl, their lips a few centimeters apart, and frowned. “There’s more to it than that.”
Max rolled his eyes. “Please. It’s a predictable formula, always a happy ending.”
“You’re not a fan of happy endings?”
“Life rarely—if ever—results in a happy ending.”
“So cynical,” Emmy teased. “Sometimes love wins, Max.”
Max scowled but didn’t retort. “Aren’t you hot just roasting there in the sun?”
Beads of sweat rolled down her skin. She set her book down and rose. She felt Max’s eyes follow her as she walked to the steps, then dipped one toe into the water. The chill was shocking, but Emmy found her footing and lowered her body in. It was cool and refreshing. She approached Max, noting his widening grin. “Is this what you do all day, sleep until noon and then work on your tan?”
Max stirred the water around him. “Sometimes.”
“Do you have a job? Go to school?”
“No.” He dipped under the water, surfacing an arm’s length away. “So did you have it out with the infamous Harper?”
“Something like that.” Emmy tried to curb the venom in her tone.
Max seemed to know better than to push the subject. Instead, he said, “You look different.”
Again, the image of his face glowing under an intense flash of fireworks. “Well, the last time I saw you I was thirteen, at my mom and Joshua’s wedding. Believe it or not, you look different, too.”
Max smiled like he possessed a secret. He still had a boyish face, but he was calm and confident, not forceful, loud, and awkward like the boys Emmy went to school with.
“I didn’t realize you were still living at home when I asked Kathryn if I could stay here.” She didn’t want to bring up the moment Max had caught her eavesdropping in the hallway, but maybe acknowledging it was a tiny shred of an apology. “I hope I won’t be in your way. Or Kathryn’s.”
Max smirked. “Aside from the fact that you’ve already covered every surface of my bathroom with your girly things, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
It was Emmy’s turn to roll her eyes. She’d charged her electric toothbrush and left her face wash, a bottle of petal-pink nail polish, and a handful of hair ties on the shelf above the sink. Her things hardly covered “every surface.”
“You go to Saint James, right?” Max asked.
Emmy nodded. “For a few more weeks.” She realized she might have to share the house with Max in the afternoons, and it might be awkward. Sure, her solitude stung at times, but it also came with privacy. “You graduated last year?”
Max nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “From Delray High. You don’t have a car; how are you going to get to school?”
“My grandmother confiscated my keys when I left. My mom didn’t try to stop her.” That familiar spike of rejection. Harper didn’t care whether she had transportation, whether she had a way to drive herself back to the house if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. “Kathryn said she’d drop me off in the mornings.”
“And you’re going to walk home?”
“I guess.” Emmy shrugged. “It’s only like a half mile.”
“It’s almost summer; it’s hot as fuck.” Max wiped water from his face. “I’ll pick you up. Just don’t say anything to my mom.”
Emmy hadn’t anticipated his offer and took a beat to consider it. She didn’t know how to say no. She didn’t want to say no, though the thought of even a short car ride with him made her jittery. But why didn’t he want Kathryn to know? What was their deal?
Max seemed the opposite of jittery, and with the matter settled, he dipped into the water once again and surfaced, wiping his face once more before he made his way up the steps and wrapped his towel around his waist. “I’ll see you later,” he called as he left wet footprints on the deck.
After he disappeared inside, the lapping of the pool stilled, leaving Emmy feeling ... alone. She’d spent so much of her life on her own, but this was different, like when Max had left her in the hallway, like she wasn’t ready for him to walk away.
Emmy climbed from the pool and wrapped her towel around herself before she gathered her things and opened the patio door, stepping into the kitchen. Kathryn stood at the counter, tipping the coffee carafe into a Deja Brew cup, and she looked up. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Kathryn.” Emmy watched Kathryn reach into the cabinet above the stove for a small pill bottle. On the top shelf, a white coffee mug caught Emmy’s eye, tucked between rows of spices. A smiling yellow sun peeked back at her from its lacquered surface, summoning a whisper of recognition she couldn’t place. Kathryn tapped two blue ibuprofen tablets into her palm, then returned the bottle to its shelf and closed the cabinet. She downed the caplets with a swig of her coffee, then turned to Emmy, leaning against the counter. “Is your room comfortable?”
“It’s fine, thank you. And thank you for letting me come stay.” Emmy took a good look at Kathryn in the long rectangle of honest light that fell through the patio door. She wore black leggings and a workout top, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. Like Max, Kathryn was tall, but aside from her height, she hardly looked like Max’s mother. Her olive complexion was darker than her son’s, and he hadn’t inherited any of her features. She still looked tired, maybe more so than the previous day.
“I had coffee with your mom this morning,” Kathryn said.
Emmy clutched her book to her chest and thought of her phone. Blank. Not a word from her mother. Had Harper asked for her?
“You probably don’t remember when I lived with your family.” Kathryn shifted from one foot to the other. “But I know what a bitch your grandmother is.” Emmy was struck by the brashness of the word, and the way Kathryn used it so casually. “And your mom—” Kathryn caught herself and paused. For a moment, she looked like she was thinking more than she said aloud. “I’m just surprised you didn’t want out of that house sooner. Your dad told me you’d call, so I’ve been expecting it for years.”
Emmy drew a tiny breath. For a moment the only sound in the kitchen was the far-off thump of the dryer. Kathryn was right: her grandmother was a bitch, and Harper was too weak to stand up to her. The fact that Kathryn knew this once again reminded Emmy there was a vast expanse of time when their lives had crossed that she was too young to remember.
Emmy’s father was a forbidden subject in her family. Kathryn was right, Emmy had no tangible memories of Kathryn and Max living with her family. Emmy recalled her father’s house as a vast castle of secret hiding places. Flashes of slivered memories—curtains rippling in the sea air, wicker furniture beneath her legs, blueberry pancakes on a griddle—were recalled in a dreamy haze, but it was impossible to distinguish which of her memories were real and what her imagination had created. Kathryn might be able to paint a clear picture, to explain how they’d all turned into the people they had, to explain why Harper was a shell of a person, why she seemed to fear loving her daughter. But Emmy wasn’t sure how to approach the subject.
“So,” Kathryn said, “stay here as long as you’d like.”
“Twelve weeks.” Emmy felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry, that’s oddly specific—I’m moving to Seattle the second week of June. On my birthday. I got into UW.”
Kathryn’s eyes broke away, like Emmy had touched a nerve. Again, she seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment. Then, as if shaking off a trance: “That’s incredible, Emmy. Congratulations.” Her voice was heady, genuine, and Emmy absorbed the recognition. It was sweeter than her classmates’ brand-new BMWs. If only it had come from Harper. Kathryn took a few steps closer. “You stay here as long as you’d like, but please reach out to your mom.”
Emmy bristled. Harper had time for coffee but couldn’t text her daughter? “I’ll think about it.”
Kathryn’s eyes narrowed. “I saw you and Max outside.” Emmy’s pulse ticked. Kathryn’s green eyes, her energy—her entire presence—was intense and electric, sending a tingle of nerves up Emmy’s arms. “He was in some trouble recently, and we’re working through it. If he’s not friendly, don’t take it personally. He needs to work on his attitude.” Kathryn tilted her head. “Do you understand?”
Emmy did not, but she nodded. With a tight smile, Kathryn turned and left the room, leaving Emmy’s mind to spin with her words, to flash with Max’s bright smile in the pool.
Emmy was used to her family’s particular brand of icy distance. When she’d come to Kathryn’s house, she’d braced herself for boredom in an unfamiliar environment, for a long gray period before she’d finally leap and begin her own life. But she’d stepped into the middle of something between Kathryn and Max. And Max certainly wasn’t unfriendly to her. Now Emmy saw color creep into her existence. Maybe living with the Morettis would prove to be more interesting than she’d expected.