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I spin around. “I amsohappy you’re here.”
Mariana laughs. “I figured you might be.”
“So, you know?”
She nods, giving me the side-eye.
“You know Meredith’s here?”
Mariana lifts a carafe of coffee that Tristan must have made earlier and tops off her travel mug. She looks tired today. Dark circles shade her eyes. Her hair is frizzy and tangled. The low-cut shirt however, is on point.
“Yes, I know Meredith is here.” Mariana adds creamer and sugar to the mug. “Tristan texted me last night.”
I wait for her to continue—to give me all the gossip—but she doesn’t. So, I tread lightly, retelling the story of how I opened the door, how Meredith almost hit me, and how Tristan saved the day.
“Tristan mentioned Meredith’s got issues. Is that right?” I ask.
“Yes. She’s very unstable. The first time she showed up unannounced was at the old house in Rock Hill.” Mariana secures the lid on her coffee mug. “After Tristan was married to Nina.”
“How awful for Nina.”
“Yes, but it’s not consistent. She’s gone long stretches of leaving them alone. The occurrences usually pick up after her divorces.”
I can’t believe how cavalier Mariana is speaking of the situation. Like it’s totally normal.
It’s not. It issomessed up.
“How does Nina deal with it?” I ask.
“Before the stroke ... not good. Now, I don’t think she even knows.”
“Not good, how?”
Mariana leans against the counter and appears to be weighing how much to tell me. I get this a lot from her, and it’s starting to annoy me.
“The first two times, Nina handled it with class. She called the cops, waited patiently, and then calmly asked Meredith not to come back.”
So,Ninacalled the cops—not Tristan.
“Then there was a fight.”
My brows pop.
“Meredith caught Nina on one of her bad days—this was after James disappeared. Nina lost her mind, went at her like a rabid dog. I was there. In fact, I broke it up.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“A few scratches, but no. Although, I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there.”
“What did Tristan do?”
“He drove Meredith home.”
I wait for the “and,” but it never comes. Instead, Mariana grabs a granola bar and turns to leave.
“Hey,” I say. “By the way, did you put a framed photo of James next to Nina’s bed?”
Mariana frowns. “Framed photo? No. Why would I do that?”
