Take the Fall(30)

Marcus’s gaze connects with mine.

A couple of people follow my stare and a low murmur moves through the crowd. Marcus steps out of the shadows and enters the building once he realizes he’s been spotted. Kip Peterson rises from a seat not far from him at the back, and I catch a few hostile words shot into the air. Other people get up from their seats, including Sheriff Wood, who I hadn’t noticed, and the group around Marcus moves not-so-quietly outside. Mrs. Meyer breaks down, collapsing into her husband’s arms. As he attempts to soothe her, his shoulders quiver, and a tear cuts down my cheek. I look up to see Kirsten slipping out the doors. She closes them behind her, but not before I see the reporters swoop in for their reward.





THIRTEEN


“IF YOU’RE NOT FEELING UP to this, we only need to stay a few minutes.”

The weight of the week is evident in Dina’s voice, but all I can focus on are the huge planters lining the front steps of Gretchen’s house. They overflow with pink petunias, and when I close my eyes, I see the two of us darting along the terrace when we were eight, hiding from Kirsten amid the flowers. I draw in a ragged breath. The sun sinks slowly toward the horizon, but every light in the Meyers’ house burns bright and warm when we ring the bell. We’re greeted by Gretchen’s uncle, who directs us inside. A waiter approaches us in the main hall with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and there’s an arrangement of delicate-looking entrees and desserts in the dining room. Even in the worst of circumstances, Gretchen’s mom knows how to host an event.

I spot Aisha and Haley in a corner, sipping what looks suspiciously like white wine. I pretend not to see them, scanning the room for Kip Peterson while my mother greets Haley’s mom and dad. Kip wasn’t at the burial after the service, but I’m hoping he shows up here. Whatever happened with Marcus was over by the time I got outside, but I need to talk to Kip, regardless. His infatuation with Gretchen and his account of that night make him suspicious, but I need to ask more questions before deciding for sure if he belongs on my list.

I recognize most of the people in the great room from the service, except I don’t see the sheriff or a single deputy. I wonder if that’s a conscious effort not to disturb Gretchen’s family with their presence, or if something else is keeping them busy. Principal Bova is in the middle of the room talking with the mayor. Gretchen’s father is surrounded by businessy-looking men. I already heard the new community center is going to be named in Gretchen’s honor. I notice Kevin Fowler standing in a corner with a group of football players, and when I see him, I almost smile. He looks so uncomfortable. If Gretchen were here, she’d laugh out loud.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” a cool, familiar voice says over my shoulder.

I turn to see Kirsten in a plain black dress, blond hair spilling down around her shoulders. Her mother is at her side in a dark suit, her fading yellow hair pulled back. A more mature version of her younger daughter.

“Oh. Marcia, I’m so sorry,” my mother says, leaning in for a brief, awkward hug. My mom and Gretchen’s parents have always gotten along, but they aren’t exactly friends. I doubt their worlds would ever have overlapped if it hadn’t been for me and Gretchen.

Mrs. Meyer glances at me over my mother’s shoulder, her eyes flashing with regret, then guilt. I look down. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to sink lower, but I guess I can’t blame her. I spent the week thinking how it could’ve been me instead of Gretchen too. She embraces me next, squeezing a little too hard for a little too long, perhaps to make up for the thought.

“Thank you for coming, Sonia, and for what you said today. I know it must’ve been difficult.”

My throat closes up. Even if I knew how to respond, I couldn’t speak. I wipe my eyes, careful not to let my burning tears fall on her tailored shoulder.

“The service was beautiful,” I manage.

“The music, the flowers, everything was just perfect,” adds Dina.

“Kirsten picked out the flowers,” Mrs. Meyer says with a tight smile.

Our words sound generic and insincere, but I think it’s all any of us can handle. I look at Kirsten, expecting to be met with an icy glare, but she’s channeling Gretchen again. Her face is placid, her body language calm and composed.

Several people have gathered around us, waiting to express condolences. My mother and I start to excuse ourselves, but Mrs. Meyer touches my shoulder, looking straight into my face.

“Sonia, she came to me in a dream the other night. I don’t think she’s really gone.”

My eyes widen. Gretchen’s mom has always been pragmatic, businesslike. If we skinned our knees when we were little, she would give us a bandage and send us on our way. When Gretchen’s cat was hit by a car in fifth grade, she simply said they’d get another. The funeral and reception have been planned to the last detail, like she had some kind of contingency plan for losing one of her daughters. But there’s a hint of something strange and desperate in her eyes and I’m not sure it’s simply a haze of sedatives.

Kirsten takes her arm. “Mom, the mayor is waiting.”

Something snaps back into place in Mrs. Meyer’s face and she turns away. Dina calls my mom over to speak with Principal Bova, but I hang back, watching the procession of people offering sympathy and words of comfort. After a minute or two Gretchen’s mom has regained her poise and the whole thing seems like a non-incident. Kirsten stands by her side, thanking people for coming in a way that strikes me as so self-possessed, it sends a tingle up my spine. Gretchen always knew the right questions to ask and the right answers to give, while Kirsten mostly improvised . . . badly. It drove Gretchen crazy.