Such a Quiet Place: A Novel(47)

And then I would have to deal with Ruby on my own again.

When I exited the bathroom beside the clubhouse, Charlotte was gathering up a stack of used plates and napkins at the long white folding table, while Ruby was pouring herself a drink. The sangria had run out, and she was moving on to the lemonade. As she reached for it, Charlotte jerked back, and Ruby laughed. “Seriously, Charlotte?” she asked.

Charlotte didn’t respond, didn’t give her the benefit of any reaction. “Girls,” she called over her shoulder, “it’s time to go home.”

Molly looked her way, but Whitney had her earbuds in, lying on a lounger, sunglasses on even though it was nearly dusk. Neither moved from her seat.

“Ruby,” Charlotte said, in case she would listen to Charlotte instead, “I think it’s time for you to go.” Loud and firm, for all to hear. What she would’ve said the second Ruby walked into her house. Strong, where I was weak.

And that was when Ruby turned. Like all she was waiting for was a switch. This moment. Something she could weaponize.

“Why are you all acting so afraid?” she asked, arms extended to the expanse of us. And then she laughed. “I know why you’re all scared. It’s not because of me. It’s because of your little lives, with your little problems, and your little worlds. You’re afraid that no one will even notice if you’re gone. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the dog, would any of you have realized something had happened to the Truetts?”

We had always avoided them. Happier not to run into them out front, to hear their complaints or see their condescending looks. The barking dog had been the only thing I noticed.

“Fucking cowards,” she said, and even Preston’s date flinched. “I know what you did.” Her gaze moved so fast, over all of us, I couldn’t be sure who she was talking about.

“All right.” Mac broke the silence, stepping forward. “Come on. Let’s go talk.” Hand on her arm.

She jerked her arm back. Brought it forward again into an accusing point. “And what about you, Mac? Aw, shucks, I don’t know,” she mimicked. “I mean, maybe my girlfriend is a killer. I can’t say for sure.” She gave him a slow drawl, a lazy affect. “My life can remain exactly the same, either way.” A step closer, and I got a chill. “I can still go three doors down. Get laid without leaving the street.”

“Ruby, come on. Come walk it off,” Mac said.

“Walk what off, Mac? Walk the last fourteen months off? Walk off my anger that all of you, every single one of you, conspired to have me convicted of a crime I did not commit?”

Silence as we all stared back. The thing she had finally given voice to, unavoidable now. An open accusation that the Truetts’ murder was not at her hand but at one of ours. But I wasn’t on her side anymore, and the drinks had steeled my nerve. I saw what they all saw now. The things Ruby was capable of. A liar. A dangerous liar.

“Preston told me,” I said, because it was the only thing I could do to alter the course, redirect the train wreck of this conversation. “He told me about you and Aidan.” Ruby turned my way slowly, blinking once. “God, Ruby, you had me fooled. But you really are a terrible fucking person.”

Her lip twitched. “He was an asshole,” she said. “And nothing even happened, Harper, I swear. Though not for his lack of trying. I told him I’d tell you, and what did he do? Ran, to save face. Your fiancé? Please, he was making a fool out of you. I did you a favor. Not like anyone else did for you here.”

She stepped closer, one eyebrow raised. Like she was giving me one last shot to change course, rethink my side. And then she shook her head. “And this one, I mean, seriously?” She gestured around the group. “Is it the big brown eyes that have everyone fooled?” She widened her own eyes in a play at faux innocence. “Has no one thought this was odd? That she takes the job of the guy killed next door and my boyfriend?”

I shook my head as if I could deny it. People looked down, looked away.

“I see you,” Ruby said, softer now. “I see everything about you, Harper.” She was up in my face. I was tired of being pushed around by her. I was so, so angry. Not just about her actions; anything could be forgiven if you chose to forgive. And the past, with Aidan, was so long ago. But because of the way I found out, from Preston. That sharp, hot humiliation—the thing that made me ache with the need to push back. To do something.

I pressed my hand to her shoulder and shoved. Hard enough that she stumbled. “I took you in,” I said as she regained her footing, eyes wide from surprise.

“Oh, like hell you took me in. You’re just too scared to tell me to go. And why, Harper? Why is that?”

“What are you saying?” I asked. Because if she said it, I could defend it. If she said it, I could accuse her. An equal and opposite reaction. “You think I hurt them?”

“No, I don’t think you have it in you.” She said it not as a compliment but to imply a lack of backbone, a lack of agency. “I think you’re an opportunist, Harper. That you only know what you don’t want. I don’t think you can ever be happy as yourself.”

My eyes burned under her unflinching gaze. Something stirring in the wake of her words. Something too close to the truth. The way I had crafted myself in reaction to something else: in contrast to Kellen; to Aidan; to her.