Lovely Girls(35)

“If I did still have it, why would I give it to you?” Alex asked. “We’re not friends. In fact, you’ve treated me like shit ever since I got here.”

“I said I was sorry about that. And I am. It won’t happen again.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Because Daphne and I aren’t friends anymore. And I’m probably not friends with Shae anymore, too, because she’s, like, Daphne’s minion. But I need that video.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alex said. “My mom’s here. I have to go.”

Alex fumbled with her phone and then abruptly stopped the recording.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




* * *





KATE

When I arrived at the Roasted Bean, the same coffee shop where I’d met Joe, Lita Gruen was already there. She was sitting at a café table with a striking Black woman in her early forties. Taylor Taunton, I presumed. She had a slim, lanky build and wore an orange wrap dress and gold sandals, and her hair was twisted up and secured with a tortoiseshell clip.

Lita waved at me, and I waved back and headed over toward their table. Lita had an iced coffee in front of her, and her companion was drinking an espresso.

“Hi,” I said when I reached their table.

“Kate!” Lita stood and gave me an awkward hug. I fought the impulse to push her away. There was still a faint bruise on my wrist from where she had grabbed it. “This is Taylor. Taylor, meet Kate.”

“Hello, Kate,” Taylor said.

“It’s nice to meet you. Let me just order a coffee, and I’ll join you.”

I stood in line at the counter behind a few other customers before putting in my order for a latte. The baristas were more interested in chatting loudly with one another over the sound of the hissing espresso machine than in taking orders, so the line moved slowly. I watched Lita and Taylor surreptitiously while I waited. The two women were talking intently, their heads bent toward one another. Lita occasionally glanced up in my direction.

Once I had my coffee, I made my way through the crowded shop, back to the table. I took a seat in the open chair.

“I heard you just moved to Shoreham,” Taylor said.

I nodded. “My daughter and I moved here from Buffalo just before the school year began.”

“How are you liking it so far?”

“It seems like a lovely place to live,” I said.

“Yes, I always thought so too. Although sometimes it almost seemed a little too perfect.” Taylor lifted the white espresso cup and took a small sip. “All those beautiful people in their beautiful homes, living their beautiful lives.” She set down her cup and smiled. “I always wondered if I was up to that level of perfection.”

I smiled faintly. “I’ve wondered the same thing.”

“No one’s perfect,” Lita interjected. “Everyone has their problems. Look at Genevieve. On the outside, she seems perfect, when really, she’s rotten to the core.”

We were going to get right to the subject. That was fine with me. I looked at Taylor. “Lita mentioned that you have a bad history with Genevieve.”

“And Emma and Ingrid too,” Lita cut in.

“But here’s the thing,” I said, still addressing Taylor. “All three of them have been kind to me. I feel uncomfortable talking about them like this.”

Taylor nodded. “I completely understand. A few years ago, I would have said the exact same thing. And I’m not here to convince you of anything. Lita asked me to share my story with you, so I will, if you want to hear it. Believe me, I’d rather be doing just about anything other than dredging up that history. It’s not exactly a pleasant memory for me.”

Taylor’s reluctance disarmed me.

“Do you have children?” I asked her.

Taylor smiled, her face softening. “Yes, two. A son and daughter.”

“That’s how I met Taylor,” Lita said. “Her son, Isaac, is friends with Aiden.”

“And my daughter, Jasmine, is a senior in high school,” Taylor added.

“My daughter is the same age,” I said.

“It’s a tough one.” Taylor laughed. “There are days when my daughter seems like a perfectly normal person and then other days when she freaks out about the way I chew my toast.”

“Life with a teenager,” I said wryly.

“Anyway, Jazzy became friends with Daphne, Shae, and Callie. That’s how I got to know their moms.”

“Is she a tennis player?”

“No.” Taylor took another sip of her espresso. She was wearing a set of thin gold bangles that clinked together when she moved her arm. “Jazzy’s a gymnast. She met the girls in French club their freshman year. The club met once a week and held fundraisers to take a trip to Paris during the summer before their junior year. Jazzy was so excited about going. And by her new friendship with Daphne and the other two girls. Although I had concerns from the beginning.”

“Concerns about her being friends with them?” I asked.

“About why they befriended Jazzy. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but Jazzy is very pretty.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Lita said. “She could model.”