Scared To Death (Live to Tell #2)(38)

“Okay.” Renny skips down the hall. Elsa hurriedly puts the chest back together and locks it. As she returns the key to the bedside drawer, she reminds herself that she needs to pack the keys to Maman’s apartment, before she forgets.

In the kitchen, Renny is putting her toys back into the rainy day bin. She’s excited about the impromptu weekend in New York—even though Elsa and Brett explained to her that her grandmother won’t be at home.

Renny is full of sightseeing ideas—and some of them, to Elsa’s dismay, sound like New York, Sylvie Durand style. Pretty impressive, considering they haven’t seen Maman since her Mother’s Day visit last month—when, fresh from a few days in Manhattan, she regaled them with tales from the city.

Now Renny wants to see Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdale’s, Tiffany’s…

“Tiffany’s?” Elsa asked incredulously.

“For breakfast. Mémé told me about it.”

Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Of course. It was Sylvie Durand’s favorite movie, and back then, she traveled in the same circles as its leading lady. When Elsa was growing up, Maman’s highest—and most frequently paid—compliment was that Elsa looked just like Audrey Hepburn. Later, when she was modeling, the resemblance wasn’t lost on her booking agents, who cultivated her chic, sleek, gamine style.

She might as well wait until they get to New York before she straightens out Renny’s misguided impressions. She has a lot to do before they leave, and she definitely needs to grab a quick shower—a real shower, as opposed to the earlier one that left her eyes still rimmed with old makeup and her hair limp from cheap shampoo.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s such a minor detail, but maybe it’ll help her to feel more normal.

As if anything could possibly feel normal right now.

Her eyes go to the hook beside the door, where she always keeps Renny’s tote bag to grab when they’re on their way out.

The thought of someone touching it, desecrating it…

Spider-Man. Who would have known? Who would want to remind them of something so painful?

Turning away, Elsa opens the top drawer of the kitchen desk. As she pulls out the set of keys to her mother’s apartment, she remembers how she’d laughed when Brett, Mr. Organization, had fastened an identifying tag to the ring.

“It’s a Louis Vuitton keychain, Brett. Do you actually think we’re going to forget whose keys they are?”

“You never know,” he told her, but even he had to grin.

Elsa tucks the keys into her purse. Then, remembering that she left wet laundry yesterday, she heads toward the utility room off the kitchen. The washing machine is on its last legs, but at least this time it completed the spin cycle.

As she opens the dryer to transfer the load of clothes, she hears the door open and Brett calling her name.

“I’ll be right there! I just have to—”

“Elsa—right now. C’mere.”

Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good. Abandoning the laundry, she returns to the kitchen. Seeing the look on her husband’s face, she turns immediately to her daughter.

“Renny, why don’t you go into your room and pack your clothes?”

“You said put the puzzles away first.”

“That can wait. Go ahead.”

As Renny disappears down the hall, Elsa whispers, “Did you see the footprint?”

“No, it must have washed away.”

She was afraid of that. “What about the—”

“The branch. I saw it. But Elsa…”

She realizes, then, that he’s holding something: a manila envelope. “What is that?”

“It just came in the mail. You need to see this.”



Marin could tell Lauren was surprised when she took her up on the invitation to visit her in Glenhaven Park today. She herself was perhaps even more surprised.

But after spending yesterday mired in emotion, between packing away—and throwing away—all those mementos, and dealing with the girls’ endless arguing, topped off by the rat experience…it was as if Lauren had thrown her a rescue ring, and she’d instinctively grabbed it.

Once she’d said yes, she felt as though she were standing at the base of an enormous mountain with no idea how she was going to climb it.

The only thing to do, she realized, was stop thinking about it and start moving. As quickly as possible, for that matter, hoping she’d gain enough momentum to keep on going.

She’s made it out onto the rainy street and is all but running toward the parking garage a block away when it happens.

“Hey, look, it’s that lady!” she hears someone say. “The one whose husband—”

Suddenly, a camera flashes in front of her.

Blinking, she hesitates for a split second, wondering whether to keep going, or turn around and head back home.

Home sounds better—but she’s closer to the parking garage.

And anyway, is she really going to let a couple of shameless, camera-wielding strangers ruin her plans? That would be pathetic.

No. No way.

Holding her head high, Marin picks up her pace once again, heading for the parking garage.



Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Mike hears a cheerful, familiar “Hey, Mike-ey!”

“How’s it going, Joe?”