Lovely Girls(32)

Alex stopped and looked back at me. “Where are you going?”

“I was going to have dinner at a friend’s house.”

“Which friend is that?” Alex folded her arms over her chest.

“Joe Miller. You met him at the Thackers’ house. The night we went there for barbecue.”

“It’s a date.” Alex’s voice was flat.

“No. Well. Sort of.” I sighed. “Honey. I know that there’s been a lot of change over the last year. And I know you’ve struggled with it. I don’t want to upset you.”

“No,” Alex said. “Go to your dinner. I have a ton of homework to do, so I can’t watch a movie anyway.”

I hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m not five years old. I won’t burn the house down while you’re gone.” Alex turned and left, her feet thumping up the stairs.

I stood rooted in the kitchen, still torn about whether to go or stay. I wasn’t worried that Alex would burn down the house. But I was very concerned that my daughter wasn’t telling me the full story about how her phone had ended up in pieces. And I was certain that she had lied when she said Daphne Hudson hadn’t been involved.





CHAPTER NINETEEN




* * *





KATE

I sat perched on a stool in Joe’s kitchen, a glass of cold white wine in hand, watching him cook dinner. He stood at the stove, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his attention on the frying pan, where he was sautéing garlic, shallots, and herbs in a froth of hot butter.

“I’ll just get the sauce done, and then we can sit outside and talk for a bit before dinner. Sound good?” Joe looked up and smiled at me.

“Sounds great.”

Joe’s condo was small, but it was bright and open and looked out on a well-manicured golf course. His style veered toward male bachelor—black rectangular leather couches, glass-topped tables with steel bases, an enormous television on the wall. But there was an interesting series of framed urban landscapes hanging on the wall behind the kitchen table. I hopped off my stool to take a closer look.

“I took those in Miami,” Joe said.

“You took them? They’re very good.”

“The one on the top is the restaurant where I got my first head-chef position.” Joe pointed with his spatula, and I looked closer at the art deco building flanked by palm trees.

“Do you miss Miami?”

“God, no.” Joe shook his head. “The crime, the traffic. I occasionally miss the restaurant scene, but it’s only two hours away. We should go down sometime.”

I felt a now-familiar swoosh in my stomach every time Joe suggested another date. And this one would be out of town.

“That sounds like fun.”

Joe tapped his spatula against the pan and turned the heat down. “I’ll let the sauce simmer. Do you want to sit on the patio?”



We sat on Joe’s screened-in porch, looking out at the fairway. The sky was low and gray, and thunder rumbled off in the distance.

“Is it safe to be out here?” I asked nervously.

“We’ve got some time before the storm reaches us.” Joe reached over and took my hand, threading my fingers in his. “This is nice. Having you here. Getting to cook for you.”

“Dinner smells delicious.”

“I hope it will be.” Joe squeezed my hand. “How’s your week going?”

“Actually, a little strange,” I admitted. “And it all has to do with Genevieve, at least tangentially.” I told him about how Daphne and her friends had filled Alex’s locker with copies of the article about Ed’s death and that I suspected Daphne was involved in whatever happened to Alex’s phone. And then I detailed my run-in with Lita.

“I don’t know Lita,” Joe said. “Or at least, I don’t think I do. I don’t recognize the name.”

“She seems a little off,” I admitted. I didn’t want to engage in the unkind characterizations Genevieve and the others had used to describe my neighbor. “I’d like to say she’s well intentioned, but I’m not even sure about that. I feel like she’s trying to drag me into whatever conflict she has with Genevieve.”

“You’re not obligated to talk to her friend,” Joe pointed out.

I nodded. “I know. But I think I should. I need to figure out what’s going on. With Alex, with Daphne, even with Genevieve.”

“Speaking of Genevieve. Do you remember what I told you the other night about the conflict she had with my ex-wife?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you the whole story. It’s a little awkward.”

“I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I said quickly.

“No, it’s fine. And with the way the gossip mill works around here, you’ll probably hear about it eventually. Maybe you already have heard part of it. About the anonymous text I received that confirmed my ex was cheating on me?”

I blushed. “Genevieve did mention something about that.”

“The part she probably didn’t tell you, and that I don’t know if it’s true or not, is that Kim has always thought that Genevieve was the one who sent the text.”