After her run and a shower, Hadley sat in the great room with a piece of buttered toast and a cup of coffee. Her job was perfect—working two days, followed by a day to do lesson prep, and then back to it. She loved what she did, but the constant interaction with so many people sometimes drained her. The midweek refresh kept her excited and eager to connect with her students.
She always tried to sleep in on her day off, but it never worked. When Jonah eased himself out of bed, moving around quietly in the dark to get ready for his run, she woke. Even though he kept his running clothes in the bathroom and quietly closed the door to get dressed, she felt the movement and then the emptiness beside her.
This morning had been no different. And once again, she’d invited Geneva to join her, but Geneva declined, as she always did lately.
She nibbled her toast and was just about to pick up her coffee when the doorbell reverberated through the house, sounding louder because, until that moment, she’d been surrounded by utter silence. She glanced at her phone—nine fifteen. It was early for one of Geneva’s friends to be dropping by.
For half a second, as she opened the front door, she thought she was hallucinating. Her sister stood on the front porch, suitcase beside her, duffel bag over her shoulder. Her silvery hair, which had turned that color when she was thirty-two, was woven into an intricate braid with a blue ribbon running through it. She wore her usual array of necklaces—silver chains with turquoise stones, metal figurines, and a strand of agate beads.
“Surprise! Happy birthday.” Alice let the duffel bag strap slide off her shoulder and pulled Hadley into a warm hug.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Hadley said. “What are you doing here?” She shifted to a teasing tone. “How do you know we have space for you?”
“I seem to recall an extra room that was adequate. But you know me—I could sleep on Geneva’s floor with a blanket and be happy as a pie.”
“How long are you staying?” Hadley asked.
“As long as you’ll have me.” Alice tilted her head and studied Hadley’s face. “Just kidding…through the weekend, maybe next Wednesday?”
Hadley moved away. She picked up the duffel bag and carried it into the house.
“I know it’s not a milestone birthday, but all of a sudden, I missed you.”
“I’m always missing you,” Hadley said.
“Same, but more.”
They went into the guest room. It had been occupied so frequently by Alice that she’d brought some of her favorite framed photographs to decorate the walls and had a toothbrush and the shampoo she liked in the adjoining bathroom.
“It’s been six months—I think the longest ever since I’ve seen you. I woke up this morning and decided to come. I was on the road by seven, and here I am.”
“I guess the romantic birthday dinner Jonah planned will have to be revised.” Hadley laughed and nudged her sister.
“I can watch quietly while you two gaze into each other’s eyes. No problem.”
“It’s not a problem taking all this time off?”
“I can work anywhere. I haven’t taken enough advantage of that.” She gave Hadley a self-satisfied smile. Alice was a research assistant for several professors at the University of Arizona. She specialized in Native American culture and history, but also provided research on more recent American history. Summer was busier for her because the professors used the time for writing papers.
Hadley gave her sister another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Hadley grabbed the plate with her half-eaten toast and the cold mug of coffee, and they went into the kitchen. Hadley ground beans for a fresh pot of coffee. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I ate peanuts and tortilla chips while I drove.”
“A very nutritious breakfast.”
Alice made a face. “Protein and grains.”
“Are you going to be working today?”
“Just a few hours should be plenty. Then we can play.”
They drank three cups of coffee and talked, their words tripping over each other, interrupted by shouts of laughter. It felt as if the six months had been six days. After a while, Geneva came into the room and sat with them, watching her mother and aunt as if she were glued to a TV show.
Alice pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “I guess the tortilla chips and peanuts didn’t quite cut it. I’m starving. Should we go out for brunch? An early lunch?” She put her hand on Geneva’s head. “All three of us.”
“Oh. I completely forgot.” Hadley glanced at the microwave clock. “I had lunch plans…with my neighbor.”
“Deborah?” Alice said.
“No. Someone who just moved in. I’ll cancel. She and I can go any time.” Hadley picked up her phone and tapped out a message to Faith, grateful now for Faith’s foresight in exchanging numbers.
The reply was immediate: Oh no! Are you sick?
Hadley: I have a surprise out-of-town guest.
Faith Reed: That’s rude.
Hadley laughed as she typed her reply: Not at all. It’s my sister. She’s always welcome.
Faith Reed: Oh, then I’m sure she’ll understand. She can entertain herself, and we can still go to lunch.
Hadley: Not today. I want to spend as much time with her as I can. I don’t get to see her very often.
Faith Reed: It sounds like you’ve made up your mind.
Hadley: I have. Sorry about the last minute.
Faith Reed: So I guess we’ll go next week. I’m so disappointed. A crying emoji followed her words.
Hadley: I need to check my calendar. I’ll let you know.
Faith Reed: Isn’t your calendar on your phone?
Hadley felt a stab of irritation. Why was Faith making this so difficult? It was lunch! They could figure it out later. It didn’t have to be next week. It didn’t have to be this month. She tapped her message onto the keyboard: I’ll get back to you. She put her phone facedown on the table. When it vibrated, she ignored it.
That night, Hadley lay in bed, staring into the darkness. Jonah was already breathing deeply, but she couldn’t sleep despite the two bottles of wine they’d shared with Alice.
It wasn’t her habit to categorize and rank her friends, but the warm glow she felt after a day laughing and talking with Alice, watching her interact with Geneva, slipping right into Hadley’s family as if she were there all the time, Hadley was reminded again that Alice was her closest friend. She had friends at work, other neighbors, and Deborah, but no one knew her and cheered her on and listened to her and understood her like Alice did.
Alice had broken up with her partner of fifteen years right before she’d visited at Christmas. She’d been philosophical about the break, saying it was time to part ways. Hadley couldn’t imagine being in love and having it come to that. Her sister had always been more matter-of-fact than she was.
But even with Alice, as close as they were, there were things Hadley never shared—well, one thing, mostly. It made her feel badly, as if Alice believed she knew her sister intimately, but was sadly deluded. Keeping things from Alice, even shading the truth slightly with Jonah, made Hadley feel as if she would never have a true friend who knew her inside and out. Hadley was essentially lying to her sister, if withholding something was lying. She was never sure about that. She was sure about one thing—no one on earth knew her entirely, and sometimes, it made her feel very alone.
She turned onto her other side. Her eyes were open, staring at the shutters that covered the glass doors leading from the master bedroom to the back patio. Why couldn’t she sleep? Turning onto her back, she squeezed her eyes closed, then tried to relax her eyelids. They sprang open again. She sighed. It was never a good thing to lie awake after midnight. Her mind turned down all kinds of dark corridors, as if the darkness surrounding her were creeping inside.
Why couldn’t she think of all the good things in her life when she was wakeful like this? Her incredibly strong, talented, smart daughter. The man sleeping peacefully beside her who loved her so much, whom she loved with equal intensity; she sometimes could hardly breathe when she paused to consider it. She loved her work, had lots of great friends…her sister.
But instead, her mind insisted on traipsing back over the years. To the things that had happened to her. The things she always thought she’d put behind her, but still occasionally sprang up without warning.
Growing up, both her parents worked long hours, but they’d never seemed to make much headway. Hadley wore clothes that Alice and their cousins before her had outgrown. She brought bag lunches to school that were always kind of sad beside the other kids’ lunchtime feasts. She hadn’t been able to take dance lessons or learn to play a musical instrument because her parents couldn’t afford any of that.
When a twenty-dollar bill went missing out of a girl’s backpack at school, Hadley, one of only a few kids who were marked as living in a less desirable neighborhood, was accused of stealing it. Even when the money later turned up in the girl’s lunchbox, some kids were absolutely certain Hadley had snuck the money back inside when no one was looking. It left her with the sense that those with privilege were believed; others, not so much.
She threw off the covers and slid out of bed. She put on her robe and went into the kitchen. She was not going to lie there and think about all the upsetting slivers of her life. The past was over; only the present moment was important. And the future.
She filled the kettle with water and scooped tea leaves into the small pot she used to make single cups of tea. When the tea was done, she went into the great room and turned on the TV. Staring at a flickering screen would make sleep harder to come by, but it would also divert her mind. Within minutes, she was drowsy and returned to bed without finishing her tea.
Even though Hadley woke before sunrise on Saturday, Alice had already left for her predawn run, as she had every morning since she’d arrived. Alice loved the solitude of the trails that wound through parts of the millions of acres of national forest and open space just beyond their neighborhood.
When Hadley mentioned the assault that had happened a few weeks earlier on one of those trails, Alice had brushed her off, which was Alice’s typical response to all threats, real, unlikely, or imagined. I’m sure it was a one-off, she’d said. Those things usually are.
In the kitchen, Hadley began mixing batter for waffles, setting placemats and flatware on the table, and taking the butter out of the fridge so it would soften a bit.
She opened the window that faced the greenhouse. Everything would need water today; the temperatures had started to climb into the eighties the past few days. Glancing at the clock, she considered going for a quick run on the path around the lake. Unlike Alice, she preferred paved and well-maintained terrain, not to mention level ground, but that would mean a second shower. Besides, any minute now, Alice would be back and Geneva awake.
It turned out that her estimate was wrong. The sun was advancing higher in the sky, spilling in through the back windows, and Alice still hadn’t returned. Geneva had wandered through the kitchen half an hour earlier and taken a cup of yogurt out of the fridge to stave off hunger until the waffles were ready.
A prick of anxiety made Hadley stop her breakfast preparation. She went to the entryway and opened the front door, hoping to see Alice walking along their street, cooling down from her run, sweating and smiling.
Her sister was standing in front of Deborah’s house, talking to Kenny. Hadley felt a rush of relief, followed immediately by a tight feeling in her throat as she watched the two of them, unaware of her presence.
Alice stood with her back to the street. The sun on her face revealed a sheen of sweat. Her hair was yanked back and tied into a knot, the silvery color making it appear for a moment as if all her hair were gone. She was laughing.
When Hadley first met Kenny, she’d found him charming. He could be funny. He was a storyteller like few people she knew, and his stories could go on for quite some time, reeling you in until you felt like you were living the experience yourself.
It was clear Alice was hanging on every word he spoke, just as Hadley had the first time she’d met him. Before she’d understood who he really was.
She stepped onto the front porch, thinking she might join them and hurry things along. Or maybe Kenny would let down his guard and reveal his usual contentious, rude, genuinely creepy self, giving Alice a chance to see him without the sugarcoating. Then Hadley would be saved the effort of trying to explain why Alice needed to stay away from him.
However, if Hadley interrupted, and Kenny decided to enhance his performance, it might be harder to warn Alice away from him. The more he talked, the more he relaxed and tried to charm her sister, the more he was likely to trip over himself. He wasn’t all that clever.
She moved back toward the open front door, hidden now behind the enormous potted plants that decorated the front porch. It flashed across her mind that she was veering toward creepy herself, watching like this, deliberately hiding herself. But she had to see what was going on, had to get a read on the situation. If he’d simply given Alice a friendly, neighborly greeting, they wouldn’t still be standing there. With his girlfriend recently departed from his life, now trapped in a suburban house with his mother, it seemed logical that he was on the hunt. It was a crude way to put it, even to herself, but he was a crude man. A crude boy. He seemed to Hadley like a boy who had never grown up, who thought he was viewed with the same generosity as a twenty-year-old kid.
Alice was laughing again, and Kenny had joined in, posturing as if he were an acclaimed stand-up comic. So funny. Ha ha. He was disgusting. She was a little disturbed that Alice hadn’t seen through him yet. Alice abhorred liars. Kenny lied about things that didn’t even matter, as if he relished the act of lying itself.
The first lie he’d told to Hadley was the day they were introduced, less than five minutes into the conversation. He’d oh-so-casually told her that he’d had a rough start in life because his father kicked him out of the house when he was only seventeen. Kenny claimed he’d paid for college on his own, putting on an expression of humble sacrifice.
Why would he lie about something Hadley knew wasn’t true? A sizable inheritance from Deborah’s family had covered college tuition for both of the Bascoe children. The inheritance had allowed Deborah and her now-deceased husband to move into their custom home next door to Hadley.
Even if Kenny thought Hadley didn’t know the truth, didn’t it cross his mind that she might say something about it to Deborah? It was as if he didn’t care that Hadley knew he was lying. He just wanted to say what he wanted to say in the moment.
She’d never mentioned it to Deborah. How did you tell a close friend that her son was a compulsive liar? And it was definitely compulsive. He told Hadley a fantastical story almost every time she saw him. She heard about golf scores that would have put him on the pro tour if they were truthful, and his well-known, powerful friends, people who could not possibly have crossed Kenny Bascoe’s path.
Alice was still hanging on every word. Her sister was not gullible. In fact, Alice was more cynical, more observant than Hadley was. Why was she standing there, looking like a teenage girl, gazing up at him, touching her hair every few minutes? A moment later, it became clear that she was touching her hair because she was trying to loosen it. She finally succeeded, and it tumbled down around her shoulders.
Hadley felt ill.
It was another ten minutes before Alice took a few steps to the side and glanced toward the house. Just as Hadley was about to duck inside to avoid Alice seeing her, Kenny lifted his hand and touched her sister’s cheek.
What the hell! Hadley almost lurched out of her hiding place. She took a long slow breath and moved toward the open door.
It looked like Alice had welcomed the touch. She didn’t immediately move away. Finally, she took several steps back toward Hadley’s front path, and she and Kenny exchanged a few more words.
Hadley darted into the house, carefully closed the door, and scurried down the hall to the kitchen, feeling very much like a large rat. She plugged in the waffle iron. She took out the maple syrup and poured it into a ceramic pitcher.
A moment later, Alice was standing in the doorway. “Do I smell bacon?”
“You do. It’s in the warming drawer.”
“Mind if I shower first?”
“I’d prefer if you shower first.”
Alice laughed. “I’ll be quick.”
Alice raved about the breakfast while Hadley clenched her jaw and smiled. Was it her imagination that Alice seemed to be amped up just a little bit? Alice seemed to be laughing more, talking faster. There was a different quality to her smile, as if whatever was happening around her in that moment wasn’t as important as what was going on inside her mind, her heart. It was a little scary. Surely her savvy, smart sister wouldn’t fall that fast, would she?
Finally, the meal was finished. Jonah was off to play golf, and Geneva was in her room, watching dancers on YouTube. Hadley and Alice finished loading the dishwasher. Hadley dropped in a detergent cube, closed the door, and rinsed the sink.
“What should we do today?” Alice asked.
“We could head out to some shops. I haven’t bought any summer clothes.”
“Do you need summer clothes?”
“I always want a few new tops to replace the ones I wore to death last year. It feels nice to start fresh.”
“I guess I can see that.” Alice fingered the edge of her shirt. She preferred clothes that had been with her most of her life. They never seemed to look old or out of style or threadbare. She bought expensive tops and pants, and she appeared to care for them as if they were made of woven gold. “But I do like to shop, so that sounds fun. And maybe lunch and a movie?”
“Sure. But I need to talk to you first,” Hadley said, not wanting to spoil their shopping trip with the things she had to say about Kenny. She took the pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge and filled two small glasses, handing one to her sister.
Alice took a sip. “Sounds serious.”
“That guy you were talking to—”
“Kenny?”
“Yes,” Hadley said.
“He’s Deborah’s son.”
“I know who he is,” Hadley said.
“Sweet guy,” Alice said.
“No, he’s not. He’s a loser.”
Alice laughed. “That’s a bit harsh.”
“It’s not. He was involved with a pyramid scheme and blew all his money and had to move in with his mother.”
“Really? How do you know that?”
“Deborah told me.”
“Oh, that’s sad. He told me she’s not doing great, mentally.”
“I don’t know that for sure.”
“He seemed pretty certain about it. But he said she’s had some issues for years. Issues you probably haven’t been aware of.”
“Issues?”
“He wasn’t specific.”
“How would I not know?”
“Because living next door isn’t the same as living with a person.”
“I don’t think she’s had issues. She’s had an active life, has lots of friends, she’s taken trips with groups of friends, and I think someone would have—”
“What did you want to talk about so seriously?”
“This. You should keep away from him.”
“Really? I never thought you were the kind of person who would turn into a suburban vigilante.”
“I’m not that at all. That hurts my feelings.”
“Just because a guy is between jobs doesn’t mean he should be treated like a pariah.”
“Are you interested in him?”
Alice shrugged. “I only talked to him for a few minutes.”
“He lies. And he got kicked out of his girlfriend’s house for smoking weed all the time.”
“That’s not a crime. Lots of people smoke weed. I smoke it once in a while.”
Hadley didn’t want to get off on a debate about this. Alice needed to understand she should be careful around him. “Just be careful. He didn’t ask you out or anything, did he?”
Alice laughed. “Okay, mom. You’re a great mother to Geneva, but you’re not mine. Are we done?”
“Yeah, he’s good looking, and he tells great stories, but—”
“I can take care of myself, Hadley. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. ’K?” Alice reached for Hadley’s juice glass. “Are you finished?”
Hadley handed the glass to her. She remained in the kitchen for several minutes after Alice went to her room. She was worried, but not entirely sure whether or not she was overreacting. A wave of nausea passed through her again, and that made her think she wasn’t overreacting at all. Her body was speaking up, demanding that she listen.