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“Does Maeve always expect jewelry from her ...” Flock? Clients? Prey? I settle on the least-offensive and least-honest word. “Friends?”
“No, it’s not like that. She charges for her teas, obviously, but for the other stuff ... people tend to give her things.” Vicky’s brow furrows. “Now that I think about it, I guess that is a little strange.”
15
HOPE
Framed photographs, fleece throws, books, candlesticks—all the odds and ends that fill a house, that had created the backdrop of my life with Brandon—lay strewn around my bedroom. The vestiges of my old life are all here, except the locket Maeve told me I need to find.
For maybe the millionth time, I try to remember where I left it. But the morning before the accident, like the days after, is a blur. Only the accident, the moments directly before, during, and after, remains in my memory, jagged edged and unforgiving. Even after all this time.
I close my eyes and try to replicate a breathing pattern the first medium I saw taught me.
Seven counts to breathe in. Four counts to breathe out.
Seven in. Four out.
Seven in, and—
Canned laughter from the sitcom Logan and Tanya are watching in the living room interrupts my thoughts. As if the universe were mocking me for continuing to follow advice from a woman who charged me five figures and then recited Brandon’s obituary with a few details from Facebook thrown in.
There’s a reason I never mentioned that medium to Tessa, which is something I feel less guilty about now that I know Tessa’s lied to me too.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and I bolt up, checking the time.
Do you need a ride to Emma’s game? We can swing by and pick you up.
Shoot.I forgot Emma’s peewee summer soccer league has its first away game today, and I promised I’d go.
I type out a text letting her know I’ll be a few minutes late, throw a sweatshirt that saysSOCCERAUNTon over the T-shirt I slept in, and shove my feet into sneakers. A quick glance in the mirror reveals dark circles under my eyes, and a whiff of my hair confirms I smell like the fire Maeve lit in her hearth before I left.
Hopefully I’ll air out and Tessa won’t question the rest.
My tentative hope is squashed the moment I step onto the field.
Tessa’s standing with Noah, Peter, and my mother, who’s wearing a bright-red sundress, a wide-brimmed hat, and more bracelets than I own. Tessa spots me and jogs toward me before I can do an about-face.
“I didn’t know they were coming,” she says, breathless. “I mentioned the game on the phone last night, and that it was an away game and you were coming, and ... here they are. Mom says you’ve been avoiding her.”
“I’m not avoiding her. I’ve just been—”
“Working, I know. Although ...” She gives my outfit a once-over. “Wild night last night?”
“No, regular night. I just ... overslept this morning.”
“You know I can tell when you’re lying. Your voice does this weird high-pitched crack thing, and it’s a total giveaway.” Tessa’s expression is the same one she wore when she asked about my first time with Brandon—a blend of sisterly love and nosiness. “Were you on a date?”
“Tessa,” I say, and it’s warning enough for her to throw up her hands in surrender. “Oh, before I forget. I heard from Noah’s cousin. She’s coming with all three kids. Have you worked out the table layout yet? I may need to move some things around.” Her question sounds neutral, as if she’s really asking and not trying to determine whether I spent any more time with Will.
“Not yet.”
She jerks her head to look at me. “But you will, right? And you made the appointment with Sunshine Bakers in Newport?”
“I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon.” I make a mental note to call the baker. Once I schedule the appointment, my lie becomes truth. “It’s under control.”
Her body relaxes. “Thank you. I don’t mean to be such a micromanaging control freak.”
“Uh, yes you do,” I tease, and she puts on an outraged look before shrugging and agreeing.
