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There’s a rumbling of agreement.
“The truth is—none of us know what happened that night—or at any time previously. And that’s what bothers me most. We were supposed to be her friends.”
“She seemed distracted at the party,” Amy says. “I could tell something was bothering her. And she mentioned once that someone—that another mom at the school—had been harassing her.”
“Harassing her how?” Kathryn asks.
“She wouldn’t say,” Amy tells us. “But I told the police.”
“What did they say?” I can’t help but ask. I’m careful not to look in Ann’s direction, although I’m dying to see her expression.
Amy shrugs. “They didn’t seem to make too much of it.”
“We should have been there for her,” Darlene says like a confession.
“Let this be a lesson,” Ann says. “We can do better. We have to do better.”
“I thought she was happy. She seemed happy,” Heloise offers.
No one looks up from the floor this time. Not even me.
“How about you Darlene?” Ann asks. “Would you say you’re happy?”
I watch as Darlene shifts her weight from foot to foot. I know her truth better than anyone. She lives directly next door. My days are long and boring, and I had time to observe her in action. Or rather, they used to be, but people don’t change that quickly. “Happy? Define happy.”
“I mean, are you fulfilled in your life? Does it have meaning?”
Darlene’s discomfort at being put on the spot is palpable. “I don’t kno
w…I guess.”
“Who is happy?” Lisa demands coming to her aid.
“I am,” Ann says. “And I want that for you too.”
“What exactly is it that you are suggesting?” Kathryn chimes in, and God, I wish she’d shut it. She doesn’t realize how abrasive her tone is. Ann hates that. I worry for her.
“There are women, women in this kitchen, women in this very room, who are going through things,” Ann says to Kathryn and everyone. “Some who have done things, things they aren’t proud of.”
“What kind of things?” Amy wants to know.
Ann sighs long and heavy and slow. She leaves room for them to draw their own conclusions before offering an answer. “Terrible things.”
The women inhale as a collective. Ann’s breathing remains steady. The stage is set. All eyes are on her. “But we can help them. Because if we’ve learned anything from losing Darcy, we’ve learned that helping others helps us all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SADIE
A few weeks after the dinner party, Ann shows up on my doorstep late one night out of the blue. “I’m sorry,” she says. I haven’t even gotten the door all the way open before she’s brushing past me. She’s wide-eyed and scary and fascinating all at once. “It’s just that I have to go out of town, and this can’t wait.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, Sadie. Everything is not okay.”
“What is it?”
“Something is going on with Amelia.”
