Nate’s apartment was on the third floor of a walk-up. It was small, but it was also clean and modern and thoughtfully decorated. When she’d been single, she noticed that most men had apartments that felt sterile, filled with cookie-cutter furniture they had circled in a chain store catalogue. Nate had managed to amass a nice collection of funky vintage pieces, filling the walls with framed prints that reflected his interests. A display of playbills from off-Broadway shows he’d appeared in. A sunglass-wearing, martini-wielding Vince Vaughan from the film Swingers. Milton Glaser’s iconic Dylan poster. On a knee-high mid-century media cabinet, a crowded mix of framed photographs on either side of the flat-screen television made it clear that the apartment belonged to someone who wanted to live among his favorite memories.
“Wow,” May said, taking it all in. “This place is…spectacular. I was proud of myself for finally committing to a couple of throw pillows to zhuzh up our place. I’m not the world’s best decorator.”
“I figure just because it has to be cheap, it doesn’t have to be boring. An actor friend told me it’s all about finding things that mean something to you.”
“That’s really nice. Do you remember when we rented Swingers when I stayed at your house before camp one summer? That was like after tenth grade?”
“Ninth for me, but yeah. And my mom was so annoyed. I kept running around saying everything was so money. The more she said, stop saying ‘money,’ the more I thought it was the coolest thing in the world.”
“Hey, do you mind if I use your powder room? The car ride, you know.”
“I am a man and do not have a powder room, but yes.” He gestured toward a door past a small hallway lined by two closets.
As she stepped into Nate’s bathroom, a familiar smell tugged at her memory and she felt like she was in college again. That smell. She used to live in it. When she was done, she picked up his shampoo bottle from the edge of the weathered tub, screwed off the top, and breathed it in. That had always been Nate.
She set it exactly back in its place, recalling the time she had bought some for Josh. Not for me. That’s a whole lot of scent. He still hadn’t called her, and she was terrified he would come home to find Kelsey and Lauren in their apartment. She had no choice but to break the news by text.
I was hoping you’d have a chance to call so we could talk, but the court hearing started to go south this morning. Kelsey may need to stay with us tonight. She’s there now with Lauren while I’m picking up some things for her. Not completely honest. Kelsey would definitely be staying with them, and it wouldn’t only be for the night. And no mention that she was picking up Kelsey’s things from Nate’s apartment. But it was enough to prevent him from being completely blindsided. She reread it twice before hitting send.
She found Nate standing in front of his kitchen sink, slamming back a glass tumbler filled with ice water. Her throat immediately felt parched. She accepted gratefully as he extended an identical glass in her direction. Between the round-trip drive and court, she realized the only hydration she’d had all day was her morning cup of coffee and the few nervous sips of water she’d taken during the arraignment.
“With everything that’s been going on, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your mother’s condition.”
He put his free hand in his pocket and looked away from her gaze. “Yeah, it’s…not good. I’ve thought about moving back to Boston to see her more, but she usually doesn’t know who I am.” He suddenly rested his glass on the counter. “Hey, I just remembered. I need to run down to the laundry room to get Kelsey’s clothes.”
She remembered now how quickly he could pivot from a dark subject. “You did her laundry?” she asked.
“Yeah, this morning. Threw it into the dryer before you picked me up. Hope it’s not too wrinkled. Figured after a night in the slammer, a suitcase of clean clothes might be appreciated.”
May smiled. “Clean laundry’s a treat even without the jail part. My mom made me start doing my own laundry when I hit middle school, and it’s always been my least favorite chore. That, and unloading the dishwasher.”
Nate’s eyes met hers over the top of his glass. “I remember that,” he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “Okay, be right back.”
As May continued to sip her water, appreciating how very, very cold it was, her eyes roamed over the collection of photographs by the TV. A few showed him onstage, either performing or posing with a full cast. Some were with friends she didn’t recognize—at a baseball game, a bar, a Halloween party in a cop costume she recognized from one of Kelsey’s old Facebook posts. Several were with Kelsey and their parents—back when they had been an intact family of four.
She found herself pausing longest on the photographs from the era when she had been with Nate. It was her first serious relationship, and she had allowed it to become such a source of stress. Looking at these pictures, she realized they were just kids. If they had stayed together, would she have stopped overthinking it? Would he have grown up enough for her to trust him to be reliable? Would that stupid night when she tried to videotape them have become a ridiculous memory they would have laughed about for decades?
As May stared at a photograph of the Ellises—Kelsey beaming in her high school graduation regalia, the brick and ivy of Choate behind them—she studied William Ellis’s face. All those hours she had spent fixated on Luke’s murder, and it never dawned on her that he could be guilty while Kelsey was innocent.
She was about to return her glass to the kitchen when she looked at the photograph again. She had been so focused on Kelsey’s father that she didn’t notice it before. Now that she had, the conversation she’d overheard between Kelsey and her brother on the patio came back to her. You keep saying that, Kelsey, but it’s not true. It’s never been true. How do I convince you of that?
But it’s unnatural. It’s not only a question of biology.
She had assumed they were talking about Kelsey’s plans to implant the embryos that had been fertilized by Luke.
But in this graduation photograph, Nate’s hand was wrapped around his sister’s waist, the touch of his fingertips at the side of her rib cage gentle yet possessive. The excitement in Kelsey’s expression took on a new meaning that made May’s stomach lurch.
Was it possible?
She pulled her cell phone from her blazer pocket, scrolled to one of William Ellis’s many unanswered calls from that morning, and hit enter.
“May,” he said dryly. “So apparently now you have time to return my calls. Despite the delay, I do appreciate what you did for Kelsey today, even though I did not appreciate being reprimanded by that judge. We do need to get her a more experienced defense team, but you’re of course welcome to stay on.”
“I need to know why you and Jeanie got divorced.”
“Well, I certainly can’t imagine why you’d need that information.”
“It’s for Kelsey’s case. It’s important.”
“It’s ancient history. Water under the bridge. All the trite idioms. It can’t possibly matter.”
“And I promise you that it does. Did it have something to do with Nate?”
When he finally began talking, May could see it all so clearly. She even remembered—or at least thought it was possible that she remembered—what Marnie had been telling her that night before she drowned.
At the sound of keys in the door, she hung up abruptly, managing to slip her phone into her back pocket before Nate walked inside. His arms were filled with laundry that he rushed into his bedroom. Entangled with clothes she recognized from Kelsey’s vacation wardrobe was a bundle of dark navy polyester.
“Let me just get this back into her suitcase, and you can be on your way.”
“Can I help you fold?” she asked as her phone began to ring.
He stood at the threshold of the room. “Don’t you need to get that?”
She pulled out her phone and rejected the call from Kelsey’s father. “Spam. Seriously, let me help you. I’m a packing pro.”
“No, I’m good. It’s a sty in here. Just give me two minutes to get Kelsey’s things together.” He closed the door, but she kept picturing that bundle of laundry.
Kelsey wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that thick blue polyester. It looked like some kind of a uniform.
She needed to get out of this apartment.