The Accomplice(25)

The main floor was wide open, with a skylight and wood floors and a vaulted ceiling.

“Say hi to your dad, and then we’ll get you settled.”

They dropped their luggage in the foyer and crossed through the kitchen and out to the back deck, where Owen’s father, bundled up in a hat and overcoat, stood by the grill. The dad, Luna thought, looked like a coarser, more masculine version of his son. He was fit but like a rugby player, with a suspicious tan for December.

“Tom!” Vera said, alerting her husband to Owen and Luna’s arrival.

Tom dropped the tongs by the grill and gazed over at Owen. Tom smiled broadly, as if there was no sight in the world that could make him happier than Owen.

Tom pulled Owen into an embrace. He held on longer than Owen, who seemed to pull away. But there were so many details knocking around in Luna’s mind that she wasn’t sure she perceived everything as it was.

“Dad, this is Luna.”

Tom continued smiling. Luna extended her hand yet again. Tom appeared to be debating whether a hug was in order. But he decided that a grown man ought not to invade a young woman’s space until they were better acquainted. He gave her a warm double-handshake.

“Glad you could make it,” he said.

“Thank you. Thank you for…” Luna trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

“Of course. We’re thrilled to finally meet the famous Luna,” Vera said.

Luna gave Owen the side-eye, but he refused to give anything back.

“It’s freezing out here,” Vera said. “Follow me.”

Vera led the way as the foursome returned to the living room. Tom noticed the luggage by the front door and gathered three pieces in his arms.

“Vera, where do you want them?” Tom asked.

Luna noted some kind of unspoken exchange between husband and wife. Vera shrugged and Tom nodded in agreement.

“We’re not prudes,” Vera said. “It seems silly to put you in two separate rooms when you’re just going to sneak around at night anyway.”

Luna felt confused and a bit embarrassed.

“Do they think I’m Scarlet?” she asked.

“No,” Owen said.

“Who is Scarlet?” Tom asked.

“Owen’s girlfriend,” said Luna.

“Scarlet?” said Vera.

“Let me simplify,” Owen said. “Luna and I are just good friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…” Vera said, trailing off. Then she turned to Luna. “We’ve just heard so much about you that we assumed—our mistake.”

Luna wondered what Owen could have possibly said about her.

“Either way, they can share a room,” said Tom, returning his attention to the grill.

“I was going to put Luna in the downstairs guest room,” Owen said.

“Oh. Okay. Whatever you think. The bed is made,” said Vera.

Owen picked up Luna’s suitcase, strolled through the living room past the den, and opened a door tucked away in the far corner of the house. Even Luna had to admit the room was perfect. It had a queen bed that looked incredibly comfortable. Owen dropped Luna’s suitcase by the closet and closed the bedroom door. There was a simple deadbolt, which he latched and unlatched for effect.

“Check this out,” Owen said. “I know how much you love locks.”

After the lock demonstration, Owen opened the bathroom door. Luna hadn’t had her own bathroom since she left for college. It even had a bathtub. Owen then strode across the room and opened the French doors to a small private deck.

“And your own exit,” Owen said. “In the morning, check out the view.”

“Thanks,” Luna said.

“Don’t thank me,” Owen said. “I dragged you here for entirely selfish reasons.”

Luna couldn’t tell if Owen was serious or in jest. “Oh yeah?”

“I can’t be alone with these lunatics,” Owen said as he walked out of the room.

Luna unpacked and waited until she heard Owen’s voice downstairs. When she emerged from the bedroom, she found Vera standing behind an old tiki-style bar shoved in the corner of the mid-century-modern living room.

“What are you drinking?” Vera asked her guest.

“Water is fine,” Luna said.

“Wa-ter,” Tom said, sounding out the word as if for the first time. “What is this water you speak of? Do you know, darling?”

“Never heard of it,” said Vera.

Luna turned to Owen for an explanation.

“You can have a real drink here,” Owen said.

Vera refilled her own glass with vodka and a splash of soda. Luna noticed that both Owen and Tom tracked her movements as if keeping mental score.

“We don’t card in the Mann household. Because, really, what’s the difference between nineteen and twenty-one?”

“Actually, studies show that the prefrontal cortex doesn’t have nearly the same capacity at age eighteen or nineteen as it does at twenty-five,” said a young man, about twenty-five, who had just entered the room. He was flushed and sweaty from exertion. He removed his gloves and headlamp.

This was Griff, the brother, Luna thought. He was clearly one of them, although the resemblance to his father wasn’t as obvious as Owen’s.