The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(103)

“Their lying, cheating father who’s sold out to Marc Longo of all people. And is sleeping with their nanny. It’s like an episode of Jerry Springer and I just can’t believe this is my life.” I wiped away the angry tears that spilled down my cheeks.

My mother sat on an ottoman in front of me and handed me a tissue. “Please, Mellie. Let me talk with him, get to the bottom of this. I’m sure once you know the facts, you’ll feel differently. I just can’t imagine there’s not more to this story, despite what you think you saw. That’s not like Jack. Or Jayne. And this whole issue of him agreeing to use the house as a film set without discussing it with you.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a small shake. “No. I’m not buying it. I’m on your side, Mellie, but this thing can’t be left to fester. Let me call him.”

I shook my head, feeling like JJ when I tried to feed him strained peas. “No,” I said, feeling just as unreasonable. “Just stop answering the door and his phone calls and he’ll forget about us.”

“Seriously, Mellie? You think this will all just go away and he’ll forget about you and his children?”

The doorbell rang, and I turned to her in panic, realizing it was already late afternoon and I was still in my pajamas. I ran my tongue over my teeth and remembered that I hadn’t brushed them yet, either. Even if I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t want him to be glad he couldn’t see me.

My mother stood to go to the door. “Don’t open it!”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Let me see who it is first before we make any rash decisions, all right?”

She disappeared into the foyer and I listened to her footsteps cross the floor, then pause, and then came the sound of the doorknob turning and I flinched.

“Nola! It’s so good to see you, sweetheart. Come in. I know Mellie will want to see you, too.”

She was right—I did want to see Nola. I’d missed her, but even in my darkest moments it never occurred to me to contact her, because it would be like making her pick sides. Despite her unfortunate choice of fathers, I loved her too much to do that to her.

Nola walked tentatively into the drawing room, wearing her school uniform and carrying her backpack and her overnight bag. The children squealed and she immediately dropped the bag, then sat on the floor to hug JJ and Sarah.

“I missed you guys,” she said, rumpling their hair.

“They missed you, too,” I said. “So did I.”

“Yeah, it’s been not so great at home. My dad’s a mess.”

Good, I wanted to say, but couldn’t in front of Nola.

“He really misses you, and Sarah and JJ. We all want you to come back home.”

“Is that what he sent you to say?” I asked.

She reached behind her and dragged over the overnight bag. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I asked Mrs. Ravenel to drop me off here instead of home. I figured you needed some of your stuff.” She looked at me closely and frowned. “Like your hairbrush and some clothes and makeup. But not too much—because you need to come home.”

“I want to, but I can’t. Your dad . . .” I stopped, not sure how much he’d told her.

As if understanding my hesitation, she said, “My dad wouldn’t tell me anything, so I asked Jayne what happened. She told me that she couldn’t say anything until you and my dad had a talk. She’s moved over to the Pinckney house.”

I looked at her in surprise, wondering what sort of self-punishment that must be. Sophie had told me that the doll had been verified as a rare Edison doll and returned to the house. I hoped it was busy reacquainting itself with Jayne.

“Was that her choice?” I asked.

Nola shrugged. “It’s her house, and it was a little awkward with her staying with us without the babies.”

I’d had visions of her moving into my bedroom, so at least that was one thing I could stop torturing myself with.

“The dogs miss you.”

I gave her a half smile. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, since my official stance is that I’m not a dog lover, but I miss them, too. Maybe you can walk them by the house sometime and knock on the door?”

“I guess.” She looked down at her cuticles, and I noticed she’d begun biting her nails, too. “I miss you, too, Melanie. I really want you to come back.”

I heard the tears in her voice, and I felt my heart break into one more piece. It must have resembled pulverized glass at that point, each shard representing every disappointment and loss since the night of the launch party.

I lifted my hand to stroke her hair, thick and dark like her father’s. “I can’t. I don’t think I can live with your father after . . .”

“After what? Nobody will tell me anything! How are we supposed to move forward if nobody’s talking about what happened?”

“Exactly,” my mother said through tight lips. “It’s refreshing to hear something mature for a change.” She stooped to pick up the babies. “I’m going to settle them down for a nap and come back with a nice after-school snack for Nola. Be back in a few.”

Eager to change the subject, I reached for the bag and unzipped it. “What did you bring me? I hope you brought my slippers—my feet have been freezing.”

“I did. And your favorite sweater with the deep pockets to hide food.”