Chapter Twenty-One
Before dinner, Hayley changes into her white eyelet sundress with bows on the shoulders. Mom told her not to even bring it, which shows how much she knows.
Mom has changed out of the khaki shorts and sleeveless white V-neck she wore all day in the car into an identical white top and black capris that are sagging off her hips.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Hayley asks when they emerge from their rooms to head downstairs.
“Yes, it’s what I’m wearing, since I’m wearing it. Why?”
“It’s just kind of . . . boring. Don’t you think?”
Mom glances down at her outfit, then at Hayley. “I’m comfortable. And we’re not going out to dinner; we’re just staying here.”
“I know, but still . . . I don’t think that fits you.”
“It does. My style is boring, apparently.”
“I don’t mean it doesn’t fit your style. I mean it doesn’t fit you. Your size. Those pants are way too big.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to have seconds,” Mom says with a little laugh.
Hayley is kind of worried, though. Mom’s always been thin, but the other day when she had on a bathing suit at the town pool, Hayley thought her arms and legs and collarbone were way too skinny. Since then, she’s noticed that Mom hasn’t been eating much either.
Maybe it’s not just because Dad’s been mad at her. Maybe it’s because she’s wondering about her long-lost father, wishing she could find him.
She heard Dad ask her about it in the car.
Mom acted like it was no big deal, but Hayley could tell she was lying.
She wasn’t planning to tell Mom about the DNA test unless her dad turns out to be an amazing guy, like a prince or billionaire or movie star, because then she won’t get mad at Hayley for eavesdropping and lying about her age on the genealogy website. She’ll just be happy to meet her dad.
Then again, she’s making it really hard for Hayley to go looking for him, since she’s not even allowed to leave the house.
Maybe she should just tell her now, while they’re alone. Maybe they can go find him together.
“Mom—”
“Tal’?” Dad calls from their room. “Have you seen Caleb’s sneakers?”
“They’re in his bag, aren’t they?”
“I don’t see them.”
“I don’t either,” Caleb says.
“Be right there.” Mom shakes her head. “Go on down, Hayley.”
“Okay, but Mom?”
Her mother is already heading back to her room. She stops and looks over her shoulder, distracted. “Hmm?”
Hayley hesitates, then says only, “See you downstairs.”
She descends the grand staircase.
In the foyer, high on the wall, there’s a framed portrait of a couple she recognizes as Asa and Edith Winterfield from her online research.
They’re the ones who were axe murdered here in 1894.
They look so prim and proper that it’s hard to imagine them lying all bloody and hacked to death or hanging around haunting the place.
She’s pretty sure they are, though. Earlier, when she was on the terrace talking to Chloe on the phone, she could have sworn she saw a ghost flitting at the edge of the woods.
The dining room looks like a fancy restaurant in a movie, with fresh flowers and lit candles and linen napkins and fine china, crystal, and silver. The chairs are huge and heavy, carved of wood with beautiful beige cushioned seats.
She’s relieved her mom’s friends turned out not to be a bunch of boring old people.
Kelly is a real live celebrity, on the cover of a magazine, which you’d think Mom would have mentioned to Hayley.
Midge is amazing too. She’s a police chief who’s arrested dangerous criminals, which makes her “a total badass.”
That’s what Kelly called her.
“You have to be, when you grew up with three older brothers,” Midge said with a shrug.
Hayley is a total badass, too, except it’s because her own brother is younger and a total scaredy-cat. She doesn’t say it, though. It might hurt Caleb’s feelings. Also, her parents might yell at her if she uses the word ass, and that would be embarrassing.
Linden is super hilarious, and he’s a famous interior designer who used to date one of Beyoncé’s bodyguards. He said there are a lot of celebrities around here because they can hide. A lot of people don’t even know who they are, and the ones who do don’t bother them.
Nap is from Louisiana, and he’s named after the famous general Napoleon, who was his great-great-great-great . . . a lot of greats . . . something. He has spiky black hair and he’s really tall, but he shook his head when Hayley asked him if he plays basketball.
“I don’t, but Midge does. She made it to the championships.”
“You did?” Hayley asks in awe. “You’re like Caitlin Clark! That’s so epic!”
“Not quite,” Midge says with a laugh. “That was high school. State championships. And we didn’t win. Now it’s just winter rec league.”
Hayley asks her about that. She asks them all about their lives, and they ask her about hers.
She tells them about her summer job with the Piazzas, who live down the street.
She calls herself a babysitter instead of a mother’s helper, which makes her feel grown up.
The adults seem to think so, too, because they talk to her like she’s a real person and not a kid.
She hopes Mom and Dad, who never do that, are noticing.
But they’re way down at the other end of the table with Caleb, and they mostly seem to be noticing that it’s way past his bedtime and he looks like he’s going to face-plant in the potato–whatever it’s called.
It’s got a French name that Hayley can’t remember, even though she repeated it to herself a few times after Kelly told her.
She wants to tell Chloe all about it, because Chloe is part French, even though it’s not like she’s ever been there or can speak the language. Not like Kelly, who actually lived in Paris. No wonder she’s so chic and sophisticated.
Caleb tries to cover a huge yawn with his little hand, and Mom sets down her fork.
“Come on, sweetie, let’s get you to bed.”
“Are you going to bed, too, Mommy?”
“Not yet, but I’ll tuck you in, and you can read with the light on.”
“No! I’m scared to be upstairs alone.”
Hayley sees Mom look over at her, like she expects her to make a comment, like she did about the bad guys in the woods.
She knew as soon as she said it that it was a stupid mistake. Caleb isn’t the kind of brother you can tease about stuff like that.
She turns to Kelly. “This is the most amazing chicken I’ve ever had. It tastes like oranges!”
Kelly smiles. “It’s actually duck. I’ll give the chef your compliments.”
“Duck! Wow!” Hayley cuts off another piece, trying not to think of the ducks she sees in the park back home in the spring with their fuzzy little yellow ducklings.
“Hayley?” Mom says. “It’s getting late. Finish up so you and Caleb can go to bed.”
“What? No! I’m not even tired! And I’m still eating my duck. I might have seconds!” She turns to Kelly. “Are there seconds?”
“Of course. And there’s dessert. Do you like chocolate soufflé?”
“Yes!”
Dad pushes back his chair. “I’ll take Caleb up, Talia. Come on, buddy.”
Caleb shakes his head. “I want Mommy.”
“Mommy is still eating. I’m done, and you’re done, and we’re both tired. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asks him.
“Positive. If you’ll all excuse me, it’s been a long day.”
When he and Caleb have said their good nights and left the room, everyone is quiet.
“Sorry,” Mom says. “Caleb has a hard time in unfamiliar settings.”
“Plus, Dad’s allergic to chocolate,” Hayley points out. “So it’s not like he can have dessert anyway.”
“You can have his share, then. I’ll go see if it’s ready.” Kelly gets up, smiling at her. “By the way, kiddo, every time I look at you, I see your mom. You look exactly like her. Doesn’t she, Midge?”
Midge nods. “Exactly like her.”
People say that all the time, but Hayley doesn’t see it.
Especially not right now. Mom seems lonely at the end of the table, picking at her food. She glances up as if she feels Hayley watching her, and Hayley quickly looks away, across the table, out the window.
It’s dark out now.
She wonders if the ghost is still there.
Or maybe it’s not a ghost.
Maybe it’s her grandfather, because he knows they’re here and he’s trying to work up his nerve to come to the door and meet them.
Or maybe . . .
Maybe it is him, but he’s not the kind of man they’d want to meet. Maybe that’s why Granny Nat never got married to him or even told Mom his name.
For the first time since she mailed her spit to the genealogy website, Hayley wonders if it wasn’t such a great idea after all.