“Already?”
Her mother nodded. “I can’t condone it, but young people today … ” She shrugged. “What can you do? Anyway, I thought you should hear it from me first.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m glad I heard it from you, and not some gossipmonger.” This elided the fact that her mother was an inveterate gossipmonger.
“I know you were working so hard to remodel Mark’s house when all that went down. Those granite countertops—”
“I’m just glad my little old house hadn’t sold yet. At least I had someplace to go,” said Erin with false cheer.
“This is a nice little house,” said her mother, in the way that a parent says something just to make you feel better.
“Granite countertops aren’t all they’re cracked up to be,” said Erin.
Joyce leaned in and patted Erin’s knee. “Neither was Mark,” she said.
13
The night that she was supposed to visit Raya’s house, Erin couldn’t stop putting her nervous energy into straightening the couch cushions and other pointless activities.
Nancy Drew, who had followed her hopefully around the kitchen as she wiped down the counters a second time, finally gave up and sat down on the tile nearest the treat jar just in case.
Erin packed up all the items on Raya’s list and sat down at the kitchen table to watch the clock. When it was reasonably close to the appointed time—she’d only be 15 minutes early—Erin sprang up, ran out the door, and jumped in the car.
She managed to drive only ten miles per hour over the speed limit on her way there.
Upon arriving at Raya’s normal-looking house—except for the jaunty “Trespassers Will Be Cursed” sign—Erin knocked on the door. She’d picked up her mother’s habit of knocking to the rhythm of the “Ride of the Valkyries.”
The door opened.
“Well, hello there,” said Raya, wearing her typical jeans and t-shirt combo. Tonight’s t-shirt read “Something Wicked This Way Comes.”
“Hi,” said Erin, feeling a bit shy. She’d never been to Raya’s house before.
Raya threw the door open wide. “Come on in. Pardon the mess!”
Erin had one foot over the threshold when a large black dog with a white spot on its chest gallumphed over and headbutted her leg.
“Sorry about the dog,” said Raya. To the dog, she said, “Blaze! Get off, you dumb dog.”
The dog ignored her and leaned harder against Erin, nearly bowling her over.
“Well, hello there to you, too,” said Erin, attempting to pat the dog while also pushing it back into an upright position.
“All right, you.” Raya coaxed the muscular animal down a hallway and behind a flimsy-looking dog gate.
“Will that hold him?”
“Her. Blaze is a she.”
“She looks like she could eat that gate for breakfast.”
“Probably. She’s a real sweetheart, but she doesn’t know her own strength.”
Erin had no idea whether to nod politely or laugh. Instead, she watched Blaze chase her own tail in circles behind the gate.
