The Accomplice(24)

“Listen, Owen. I’ve changed my mind. I’m sorry.”

Owen pulled the car over at the next rest stop. “Tell me your specific concerns. I’ll see if there’s a solution.”

“I have insomnia,” Luna said. “And I don’t want to wake anyone, but—”

“You’ll take the downstairs guest room. It has its own private bath, a direct exit outside, and it’s right near the kitchen if you need to make tea or something in the middle of the night. What else?”

“I don’t know,” Luna said, shaking her head.

Owen tried to anticipate the rest of her worries. “They won’t ask too many questions. They’re warm and friendly but a tad self-absorbed. If they inquire about your mother, just say she’s on a cruise. They’ll never ask a follow-up question. Guaranteed. They’ll probably give you a hug—well, my mom will—when you arrive, but they won’t otherwise invade your space. They’re not the kind of people who get really close to you when they’re talking. Nor do they make excessive eye contact. They won’t test you on your knowledge of art or old films. If you need to leave the room at any time, just say, I’m beat. Yawn if you feel you need to sell it more. Then go to your room. No one will think anything if you need some me time.” Owen said the last part with a smirk. “What else? Everyone knocks before they enter a room—Mom had to learn that the hard way. The only warning, maybe, is that sometimes they drink too much and get a little messy. But that won’t affect you. Is there anything I haven’t thought of?”

Luna remained silent. The answer was no. At least, not at the moment. Luna was of two minds regarding the entire trip. Half of her still wanted out. The other half knew that being alone would be easy, predictable, dull, and, at times, deeply depressing. Owen’s plan at least offered the hope of something else.

Owen knew that Luna’s silence meant the fight was draining out of her. “Okay?” he said, starting the engine.

“Okay,” Luna said.

“That’s the spirit,” Owen said, mocking her dull tone.

He pulled the car back onto the road. Luna rested her eyes, exhausted already by the day. Owen blasted Coldplay to wake her up. She smacked his stereo with the palm of her hand.

“Did you warn them I’m coming?” Luna asked.

“I called my mother while you were packing,” Owen said. “She was delighted to have another woman in the house.”

“Did you tell Scarlet?”

“No, I did not. Because Scarlet is not my girlfriend, and therefore I am not required to keep her abreast of my schedule.”

During the rest of the drive, Luna gazed out the window and spoke only a few words here or there, generally answering a question or inquiring about their current coordinates. Outside, the trees were bare, and patches of snow, even a few snowbanks, lay muddying on the ground.



* * *



—

Owen and Luna arrived at their destination just before dusk. The house was massive by Luna’s estimate. She wondered how an architect might describe it. She’d say it was like a giant brown box with enormous windows. The lake was right there, behind the house. You could see it through the trees. The last glints of sun reflected off it. They even had their own boat dock, with an old rowboat parked at the ready. She made note of the rowboat as a possible means of escape.

Owen followed Luna’s eye line and commented: “The town on the other side of the lake is farther than it looks. If you want to make a run for it, take my car. I’ll leave the key by the front door.”

“Get the fuck out of my head,” Luna said.

Owen laughed. Luna regarded the house yet again.

“So, is this a time-share situation?” Luna asked as Owen parked his Jetta next to a BMW 3 Series, which was parked next to a Range Rover. There was also a Prius, which both comforted and confused her. Was the Prius an apology for the Range Rover?

“No,” Owen said. “It’s our vacation home. We’re here most summers and holidays.”

“You said your family was comfortable. Not rich,” Luna said.

“They’re here!” a woman’s voice shouted.

Owen’s mother, Vera, ran out of the house in the direction of her son. When they embraced, Owen picked her up and spun her around. She kissed his forehead, then each cheek twice, and took a step back to give him a look-over.

“You need to eat more,” she said.

“You need to eat more,” Owen said.

It was definitely Vera who needed to eat more. Vera’s clothes hung loose, but you could still see bones jutting out here and there. For years Owen had assumed it was genetic. It wasn’t until his brother made a comment about Vera starving herself for decades that Owen realized she had worked hard for it.

“You must be Luna,” Owen’s mom said. “I’ve heard all about you.”

Luna politely extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Mann.”

“Don’t you dare call me Mrs. Mann. I’m Vera.”

Vera ignored Luna’s hand and gave her a quick kiss on both cheeks.

“We’re so thrilled to have you here,” Vera said. “Come out back. Your dad is tending to the barbecue.”

Vera gripped Luna’s suitcase and marched toward the house. She was stronger than she looked, Luna thought. Owen and Luna collected the rest of their luggage from the trunk and followed Vera inside.