Little Girls(50)

“Well, I figured I’d introduce myself, seeing how our daughters have apparently been hanging out together.”

Liz smiled, shook her head, and looked down at her tea. “Abigail’s not my daughter.”

“No?”

“She’s my niece. My sister and her husband went to Greece for the summer. Derrick and I said we’d keep an eye on her. We don’t have any kids of our own.”

Relief hit her like a tidal wave. Only then did it occur to her that she had been expecting Liz Rosewood to say she didn’t know what the heck Laurie was talking about, and that no girl by the name of Abigail Evans lived here.

“Oh,” Laurie said. The word was borne on a shuddery exhalation. “Well, that’s good of you. To do that for your sister, I mean.”

“Oh, Abigail’s no trouble. And my poor sister and her husband never get any time to themselves. Derrick and I were happy to do it.”

“Does your sister live in this neighborhood?”

“They live in Ellicott City. It’s not far, maybe half an hour or so. Are you familiar with the area?”

“Actually, I grew up in the house next door.”

“No kidding?” Liz Rosewood brightened. “A Naptown girl!”

“Barely. My parents got divorced when I was ten and my mother and I moved to Virginia. I feel like a bit of an outsider, to tell you the truth.”

“That’s the beauty of this area. It’s a brilliant mix of locals and refugees.”

“Refugees?”

“Interlopers. Imposters.” Liz smiled warmly. “Folks from out of town. With the Naval Academy downtown, we’ve always got tourists and out-of-towners coming in and out of the city. You may feel more welcome than most.”

“Did you know the Russes? They lived in this house when I was a little girl. It was a long time ago.”

“The Russes? No, I’m afraid not. We’ve only been in the house a few years, and we bought it from a family named Cappestrandt. Derrick and I are originally from the Eastern Shore, but he took a job with BGE and the commute over the Bay Bridge was murder on him, so we starting looking around on this side of the bridge. We looked at a number of places in Baltimore—it would have been much cheaper out that way—but it’s so much nicer out here by the water, don’t you think?”

“It’s lovely,” Laurie agreed. “So how long will Abigail be staying with you?”

“Until the end of the summer. We’ve been having fun.”

“When did she get here?”

“A few weeks ago, just after school let out for summer vacation.”

“So then she was here when my father had his . . . his accident. I’d hate to think she was troubled by what happened.”

“To be honest, I don’t think she even knows what happened. The sirens woke Derrick and me up, but I think she slept straight through it all.”

At first, the word sirens summoned images of mermaids in Laurie’s addled brain. She struggled to keep a smile on her face. “Well, it’s nice of you to take her for the summer. Your sister and her husband are lucky to have you.”

“My brother-in-law is an architect, so this Greece trip is half pleasure and half business. They kept putting it off until Derrick and I finally said go, go, go. Have you ever been to Greece?”

“No.”

“What do you do?”

“I used to teach, but I’ve been home now with Susan for about a year. Ted, my husband, he’s a playwright. He’s working on an off-Broadway adaptation of a John Fish novel right now.”

“Is that right? Wow, that’s spectacular. I’ve read a bunch of Fish’s novels. I love him. Have you met him?”

“No, but my husband has.”

“That must be very exciting. So he’s writing a theatrical version of one of the books?”

“Yes. It’s called The Skin of Her Teeth.”

“I’ve read that one! How fantastic! Will you get special seats for the opening night, seeing how you’re the wife of the playwright?”

“I suppose so.” She recalled opening night for Ted’s play Whippoorwill a number of years ago now. There hadn’t been any special seating in the tiny Greenwich theater, unless you counted the metal folding chairs lined up in the walkways.

“Derrick and I saw Wicked in DC last year; it was wonderful. It must be such a rewarding profession.”

Laurie thought of Ted cursing to himself on the sofa as she slipped out of the house just moments ago, and she smirked ironically. “It’s a lot of work,” was all she said.

“Well, it’s nice that Abigail has found a friend for the summer. There are so few kids on this block for her to play with, and of course she doesn’t know any of them, anyway. She can be a bit shy, the poor thing. Will you be here much longer?”

“We’re liquidating my father’s estate, so we’ll be here until that’s done. I’m not really sure how long it will take.”

“And then it’s back to—Connecticut, did you say?” She sipped her tea with both hands around her mug. She looked like a squirrel eating a nut.

“Yes. Hartford.”

Liz reached across the table and touched the top of Laurie’s hand, startling her. “Do you mind if I smoke?”