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Max stood there, wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and a white tee shirt. It was the first time she’d seen him in weeks. The avoidance had been entirely intentional. And now here he was, looking down at her, taking up too much space and breathing too much air.
“Long time no see.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Me, too.”
They stood there, staring at each other.
“How’s Alice?”
“She’s making progress.”
“Still not talking?”
She winced. “Not yet.”
He frowned. It lasted only a second, maybe less; she thought perhaps she’d imagined it until he said, “Don’t be frustrated. You’re helping her.”
She was surprised by how much those simple words meant to her. “How is it you always know what I need to hear?”
He smiled. “It’s my superpower.”
Beside them a bell tinkled and Peanut came out of the diner.
“Dr. Cerrasin. How are you?” Peanut said, looking from one of them to the other. She seemed certain that she’d missed something important.
“Fine. Fine. You?”
“Good,” Peanut said.
Max stared at Julia. She felt a little shiver move through her; it was probably from the cold. “Well,” she said, trying to follow it up with anything that made sense. But all she could do was stare at him.
“I should go,” he finally said.
Later, when Peanut and Julia were in the car, driving home, Peanut said, “That Dr. Cerrasin is certainly a fine-looking man.”
“Is he?” Julia said, staring out the window. “I didn’t notice.”
Peanut burst out laughing.
SIXTEEN
ELLIE WAS IN THE LIVING ROOM, READING THROUGH THE MISSING children reports—again—when Julia got home.
She knew how the press conference had gone by the disappointed look on her sister’s face. It was one of those moments when Ellie wished she weren’t so observant. She saw all the new lines on Julia’s face, the pallor of her skin, and the pounds she’d lost. The woman was practically a scarecrow.
Ellie felt a tinge of guilt. It was her fault that Julia was disappearing. If she had done her job better, the whole burden of identification wouldn’t have fallen on Julia’s thin shoulders. Amazingly, though, Julia had never once blamed her.
Of course, they hardly spent any time together these days. Since the press conferences began, Julia had worked like a machine. Every hour of every day, she kept herself in that bedroom upstairs.
“No one showed,” Julia said, tossing her briefcase on the sofa. There was the merest tremble in her voice; it could be exhaustion or defeat. She sat down in Mom’s favorite rocker, but didn’t relax. She sat stiffly; Ellie was reminded of a sliver of pale ash that had been filed too thin. There wasn’t enough left to bend without snapping in half.
A silence followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.
Ellie glanced up the stairs, thinking of Alice. “What do we do now?”
Julia looked down at her hands, balled up in her lap. Her sudden fragility was sad to see. “I’m making remarkable progress, but . . .”
