Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(42)

Ryan had really been looking forward to seeing Ian today. They hung out at his house all afternoon, watching a movie in the home theater, playing tennis on the private court, swimming in the backyard pool, then soaking in the hot tub.

Staying for dinner had seemed like a great idea when Ian’s mother invited him, but now Ryan isn’t so sure.

“How are your parents, Ryan?” Ian’s mom asks, pretty much the second they all sit down at the big teak table on the patio.

The way she says it—as if Mom and Dad are still a single unit—bothers him.

“They’re good,” he replies, and cuts into the enormous slab of beef on his plate. Medium rare, just the way he likes it, served alongside grilled jumbo shrimp, baked potatoes with sour cream, corn on the cob…

Heaven.

“So your dad is living in the city now?”

“Uh…no.” He puts the piece of steak into his mouth so she won’t expect him to elaborate. She’s the kind of mother who’s fussy about manners, and everyone knows it’s impolite to talk with your mouth full.

“No? Where is he living?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have talked Mom into letting him stay to eat. Not that he’d had to do as much begging as he’d expected. When he called, he could tell by the clattering pots and pans that Mom was in the kitchen, but she told him she wasn’t cooking—she was cleaning, obviously still caught up in her clutter-removal frenzy.

Ryan wasn’t crazy about the idea of going home to be put to work. Besides, Mrs. Wasserman said they had plenty of steak and shrimp.

That’s the kind of house Ian lives in, with both his parents and a little brother who never seems to bother anyone. A huge brick house in Glenhaven Crossing, one of the newer developments on the edge of town. A house where there’s steak and shrimp for dinner on a regular old night—extra steak and shrimp for unexpected guests like Ryan.

But at least the Kraft macaroni and cheese Mom said she’d throw together for dinner back at home wouldn’t be served up with nosy questions.

Ryan chews, swallows. “He’s living in White Plains.”

“White Plains? Really? Hmm, did I know that?”

Something tells Ryan she did.

“Does he live all by himself, then?”

“Yeah.” Who else would he be living with? Ryan wants to ask.

But he’s afraid he knows the answer, and he definitely doesn’t want to get into all that. He hurriedly pops another piece of meat into his mouth.

“Do you see him often?”

Ryan chews helplessly. This time, Ian answers for him.

“Ry was supposed to see him today, but his dad bailed.”

“Bailed? What do you mean, bailed?”

Thanks a lot, Ian.

“It means he didn’t show up. Right, Ry?”

Ryan shrugs, even though his mouth is no longer full. What is there to say to that, besides Shut up, Ian?

That wouldn’t really be fair. After all, Ian’s right.

Still, Ian doesn’t like to talk to his mother about his own life. Why does he have to talk to her about Ryan’s?

“Do you mean something came up at the last minute?” Mrs. Wasserman addresses Ryan directly.

“Janet, let him eat,” Mr. Wasserman protests.

“He’s eating. We’re all eating. Ethan, that’s enough salt on the corn.” She grabs the shaker out of Ian’s brother’s hand. “I hope your father at least called to tell you he wasn’t coming, Ryan.”

When someone asks you a question they have no business asking, it’s okay to lie, right?

“Yeah,” Ryan tells Mrs. Wasserman. “He called.”

He shoots a look at Ian, in case he feels like contradicting that.

“He was probably too tired from his trip to hang with you today,” Ian comments.

“What trip is that?”

“My dad went to the beach for a few days.”

“That’s nice. Where did he go?”

“I’m not sure,” Ryan lies.

“Was it Martha’s Vineyard?”

So Mrs. Wasserman already knew that? Then why did she bother to ask?

Probably because she knows Dad was away with his girlfriend.

I bet the whole town knows. And I bet she was hoping I’d spill the dirt. As if.

“I’m not sure,” Ryan reiterates.

“Hmm.”

At last, Mrs. Wasserman takes a bite of her own meal.

Ryan breathes a silent sigh of relief. He’s known Ian’s mom since he was, like, five. He liked her well enough until last spring—specifically, until Mom and Dad separated.

“I haven’t seen your mother all summer. Has she been away?”

Ryan shakes his head, vigorously sawing at a hunk of beef.

Mrs. Wasserman sits with her fork poised, waiting for him to say something more.

He doesn’t.

After a moment, she asks, “So she’s been here in town all summer?”

“Pretty much.”

“I wonder why I haven’t seen her.”

“Janet,” Mr. Wasserman says.

“Yes?”

“Let him eat.”

“I’m just making dinner conversation.”

“It sounds like an interrogation.”