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“I don’tknow, Hannah,” Mako said, voice sullen, not looking at her. “Things. Stuff. I don’tknow.”
“Let’s call her,” said Hannah. “This is crazy.”
“She said not to call.”
“That’s bullshit.” Hannah got up to grab her phone from the picnic table, and pressed Liza’s contact. It went straight to voicemail.
Sorry I missed you. Leave a message. Namaste.
Both Cricket and Mako were watching her, looking young, stricken. Why did Cricket look so guilty?
“Hey, Liza, it’s Hannah. Look, I’m not sure what’s going on. But can you call back so we can talk? Please?”
Bruce pushed out through the sliding door.
“What’s up?” he asked, looking at Mako, then up to Hannah and Cricket. Cricket offered a recap.
“Okay,” said Bruce, his usual even, measured self. “Wow. Did you guys fight?”
Mako shook his head miserably, and Hannah could see that he was close to tears.
“It just doesn’t seem like her, does it?” Hannah asked. “To take off.”
It was true that Hannah and Liza weren’t close, but Liza had been with Mako for more than five years. It was safe to say that Hannahknewher sister-in-law. Liza was patient, unfailingly kind, polite, thoughtful. This kind of behavior was definitely out of character.
Unless.
From the upstairs window, had Liza maybe seen Cricket and Mako flirting, or something more, when Hannah and Bruce left them alone for their own little assignation?
The pieces didn’t fit together. And Mako didn’t seem right. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. What the fuck was going on?
Hannah walked into the towering great room. Inside, on the kitchen island, pieces of chocolate cake sat sliced on dessert plates—their forgotten dessert. The surfaces were gleaming and clean.
When had the awful Chef Jeff and his unpleasant assistant left? Had they seen Liza leaving? Those two were like ghosts, slipping in when Hannah wasn’t looking, drifting out without a word.
Hannah climbed the stairs, shivering in the air-conditioning. At the end of the long upstairs hallway, she entered the master bedroom suite.
She heard the others follow her inside, Bruce talking low.
A huge four-poster bed dominated the room, and for a moment it looked like there was a sleeping form on the left side. She walked over to find pillows placed lengthwise beneath the sheets.
“I thought it was her,” said Mako coming up behind her. “When I came up to change. I didn’t disturb her, wanted to let her sleep. But it’s like she stacked the pillows that way to fool me.”
Mako’s suitcase was on the ground, contents spilling sloppily probably from his digging around for swim trunks.
“Her stuff is gone,” said Mako, looking around. “Her suitcase, her tote with all her camera equipment for her yoga class, her laptop. She packed up and left.”
“That makes no sense. We would have seen her go, wouldn’t we?”
Maybe not, when they’d all been outside.
“Did she take the car?” Bruce wanted to know.
“I didn’t check,” said Mako, helpless, miserable.
Hannah walked into the bathroom, noticing right away Liza’s toiletries bag—makeup, lotions, a pill bottle spilled across the counter. If she’d taken her other stuff, this had been forgotten. That wasn’t Liza, either. She was meticulously neat; Hannah had always envied their kitchen where surfaces gleamed and everything was an object—the finest knives, the outrageously expensive coffee maker, the handmade acacia wood cutting boards. All the stemware, dishes, plates like polished sentries behind glass doors. Liza’s bathroom at home was no different; it was a department store showroom of high-quality organic products, plush white towels rolled on teak shelves, shining tile. Lizacurated. She liked things a certain way.
Hannah left the toiletries bag as it was, turned back to the room. Things look tussled, like Liza had left in hurry. That’s when Hannah noticed that the bedside lamp was tilted to one side, shade askew as if it had been knocked over, tipped again against the wall.
