Lovely Girls(11)

“You think so?” Ingrid mused. “I’ve always thought his eyes were too small.”

“Oh, stop,” Emma said. “He’s very attractive.”

“Ingrid is the pickiest woman alive,” Genevieve told me as she topped off everyone’s champagne flutes. “As soon as her divorce was final, every single man and quite a few of the married ones chased after her, but she had no interest in any of them.”

“You wouldn’t either if you knew half the things I’ve heard from my clients,” Ingrid said. “I know far too much about what goes on in this town.”

“Tell us more,” Emma said, sipping her prosecco.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You could use fake names,” Genevieve suggested.

“And then we can guess who they are,” Emma said, now laughing.

“Never going to happen,” Ingrid said. She glanced over at me, and I realized how truly lovely she was. She lacked Genevieve’s glamour and Emma’s statuesque presence, but she had delicate features, large gray eyes, and that unusual pale skin that looked as if it had never been exposed to the sun. “They’re incorrigible. They’re always trying to get me to tell them stories about my patients.”

“I imagine it’s an occupational hazard,” I said.

Ingrid’s laugh was unexpectedly husky. “You have no idea.”

“How’s your daughter acclimating to Shoreham?” Emma asked. “Florida must be a big change after Buffalo.”

“It’s been difficult,” I admitted. “New town, a new school. Although I’m hoping once school starts tomorrow and Alex gets on a schedule, that will help even things out.”

“We’re hosting an end-of-summer get-together at our house Friday,” Emma said. “Why don’t you come over and bring Alex? She can meet our girls.”

I remembered how unfriendly their trio of daughters had seemed on the night of the school orientation. But maybe that was because of how crowded and zoo-like it had been that evening. They’d probably be more outgoing at a social event. And it would be good for Alex to meet some of her classmates.

“That would be great,” I said. “Thank you so much. What can I bring?”

“Just yourself.” Emma grinned at me, and I realized how much I liked her. I liked all three women. They were funny and engaging and so unlike what Lita had described.

“Mark and Emma always throw the best parties.” Genevieve laughed. “After me, of course. Now, come on, let’s get started on our committee work. This actually does have to be the best homecoming that school has ever seen, or else we’ll never hear the end of it.”





CHAPTER SIX




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VIDEO DIARY OF ALEX TURNER



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AUGUST 10

Alex was curled up in an armchair upholstered in a navy-and-white ikat print, her feet tucked beneath her. She held her phone up in front of her, which caused the picture to be slightly off center. Three vertical lines appeared between her eyebrows.

I can only talk for a few minutes. Or record. Or whatever. This still feels weird, talking to no one. Talking to a camera. But I don’t want my mom to overhear, so I need to get this out before she gets back from the grocery store. It’s not like she eavesdrops, exactly. It’s more like she hovers. Like she’s always worried that if she’s not watching me, I’ll fall apart. And I really don’t want her to hear what happened to me today.

Alex turned and looked over her shoulder, then back to the camera.

I thought I heard something, but I think it’s just the next-door neighbors. Anyway, today was—dum, dum, dum—the first day of school. I’ve been dreading it. I’ve never been the new kid at school before. Back home, I was still friends with kids I’d gone to kindergarten with. I had no idea how today was going to go.

My mom got up and made breakfast for me, and okay, I know it sounds bratty to complain about that, but my mother knows I don’t eat breakfast. I just bring a banana to school with me in case I get hungry before lunch. But this morning, there was my mom in the kitchen, standing at the stove, scrambling eggs. And even weirder, she was all dressed up in a sundress and wearing lip gloss. It was seven in the morning.

She was all like, “Hi! First day of school! I thought we’d have breakfast together before you go!”

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I choked down some eggs, and then she insisted on driving me to school, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to ride the bus. Although that meant that I had to listen to her chirping about how she was sure I’d do fine and make new friends, blah blah blah.

Alex pantomimed shooting herself in the head, using her thumb and index finger as the gun.

Sometimes I think my mom believes that real life is like a John Hughes movie. That it’s just a matter of time until I find a boyfriend like Jake in Sixteen Candles and everything turns into a series of cute teen montages. Walking in the park sharing earbuds so we can listen to the same music. Eating sundaes at an old-fashioned ice cream parlor. Going to prom wearing a corsage on my wrist. I don’t know how it’s possible that she’s so completely and totally out of touch with what the real world is actually like.