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Oh-kay, then.
“I was just telling Cecilia what a lovely home you have, Mrs. McTavish,” I say, sugar and sunshine, but that only makes the old bitch glare even harder.
“I suppose I should be saying that to you,” she says. “Given that this is Camden’s house. Built bymygrandfather in 1904, named aftermymother, but since I had the misfortune of being born second and my sister loved nothing more than hurting me, all of it now belongs to some boy from the streets who might as well be a stranger.”
“Morning to you, too, Nelle.”
Cam appears behind her, his hair still damp, wearing a dark gray T-shirt and jeans, hands in his pockets. It’s an outfit I’ve seen him wear a thousand times, it’s practically his uniform, but he looks different this morning, standing in the halls of Ashby House.
It’s a weird sensation, looking at your own husband and not quite recognizing him.
Nelle turns around, not even a little embarrassed. “You know my feelings on all this. Why bother to pretend?”
“Why indeed,” he murmurs, moving past her. He gives me a quick, warm look, then smiles at Cecilia, hugging her tightly.
“Thank you for the casserole last night. Can’t believe you remembered.”
“Can’t believe you think I’d forget,” she says, and there’s a sheen of tears in her eyes as she pulls back and looks at him.
“How long are you staying?” she asks, and he shrugs.
“Depends how long it takes to see all that needs to be done. A few weeks, maybe?”
Longer,I think.Forever.
“Well, it’s good to have you back,” Cecilia says, and I hear Nelle give another one of those sniffs.
“Speaking of, where’s Ben?” Cam asks, looking around. “I figured he’d want to show me where to spend my money.”
He throws a look at Nelle as he says that, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes when the barb lands.
Another side of Camden I don’t fully recognize.
But then Ben comes in, all bright smile and too-white teeth, and there’s talk about flooding damage and wainscoting and contractors, and I tune it out, already feeling the pull of the veranda, the desire to sink back into that chair and dream of the day when it’s just me and Cam here.
We have a good life in Colorado, I know that. Cam likeshis job, and while I don’t love being Mrs. Burch over at Homestead Park five days a week, I could probably find something else. I may not have finished college, but I’m a quick learner. We have friends there, other teachers from Cam’s school, a few of the other women who work out at Homestead, some neighbors. We go for margaritas on Fridays at this cute Mexican place downtown, and we know that that one Safeway is always packed on Saturday, so it’s better to drive a few miles out of town to hit thatotherSafeway, and one of the baristas at the coffee shop closest to our house has figured out what we always order (me, hazelnut latte with oat milk; Cam, a plain black coffee that always smells, and I assume tastes, like burnt sadness).
All those little things that make up a life.
We have them, but at the same time we don’t.
Because we’re still renting a tiny little house that neither of us even likes that much. Because those friends of ours? I think we’ve only had them over to said house twice in the last few years. Because when my job wanted me to list a second emergency contact after my husband, I just left it blank. When I mentioned it to Cam, I learned that he had done the same thing onhisforms at work.
We have been floating in Colorado, bobbing happily enough on the surface, but never going any deeper, and I’ve believed—or at least, I’ve told myself—that it’s because we always knew we’d end up here eventually.
And so we have.Finally.
Now I just have to convince Cam to stay. Because I haven’t come this far—I haven’t done the things I’ve done—to pack it up after a week or two. But I also know that until Nelle, Ben, and Libby are out of this house, there is no chance of making that dream a reality.
So, what’s my grand plan? To be honest, I can’t say I have one yet. But don’t worry.
I’ve always been good on my feet.
IDON’T SEEmuch of Cam for the rest of the day. I spend the morning on the veranda, then help Cecilia in the kitchen with lunch. Cam and Ben come back in to grab a bite, but then they’re gone again, and I decide to go up to our room for a nap.
But when I get there, the bed is made up, and there’s no trace of our things anywhere. Frowning, I look in the closets, in the bathroom, even under the bed, but our bags are gone, our toothbrushes aren’t by the sink. Even my shampoo is gone from the shower.
Confused, I start to head downstairs to ask Cecilia if she just got a little overenthusiastic with the cleaning this morning, but as I do, I see an open door at the end of the hall, and there, sitting on a blood-red bedspread, is my bag.
