The Neighbor's Secret(34)

“Where did you get this?” Her voice was a hiss.

“L.L. Bean,” Laurel said. “It’s right on the bottle.” Her laughter turned into ungainly hiccups.

“She’s going to puke again,” Abe said in a warning tone, “and it’s still on Colin’s pants.”

“I’m so sorry,” Annie whispered to Jen.

There were pink spots of humiliation on Annie’s cheeks and her eyes were mortified. Jen felt a complex mixture of empathy and relief that this time, at least, it wasn’t her kid everyone would be talking about.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Colin said. “It happens.”

Jen nodded lamely, wished she’d thought to provide reassurance before judgment.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Annie said to Laurel. She sounded bewildered as she wrapped her arm around Laurel’s waist and led her away.

“How old is she?” Colin said.

“Eighth grade I think,” Jen said.

“Yikes.” Colin shivered. “That’s messed up.” He’d removed his plaid shirt to dab at the sick stain on his jeans. In his thin white T-shirt, he looked skinny as a teenager. “I had an interview in twenty minutes at Breadman’s Market. Probably better to just bail?”

“Would it help if I go and explain that you were doused in the name of Good Samaritanism?” Jen said. “They know me. I shop there all the time.”

“Why are you interviewing?” Abe’s mouth was an accusing straight line. “Are you quitting school?”

“Never,” Colin said. “Assistant teachers don’t get paid a lot is all. It would just be an after-school job.”

It was becoming clearer by the day that Colin was good for Abe, and it hit Jen that they could be good for Colin, too.

“Wait,” Jen said. “What if we hired you from time to time?”

“You own a market?” Colin said. He and Abe shared a goofy smile.

“No, but I could use help with pickups and drop-offs and Abe would probably benefit from some help with his independent project—”

“We could pay Colin to compose music for my game,” Abe said. “He’s actually a decent musician.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Colin said. “And I’d much prefer that to bagging groceries. But I’ll do it for free.”

“Why don’t I at least ask Nan if it’s okay to hire you?”

If Nan didn’t require medical forms, Jen was pretty sure she would have no objection to helping one of her teaching assistants earn a few extra dollars after school.

There was probably a perfect psalm for the occasion, something about sharing your wheat bounty with your neighbors.

“Really?” Colin said. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Jen would later try to reassure herself that her motives were anything but selfish. That warm effusive glow in her chest was the manifestation of generosity. She wasn’t using anyone.

But for the rest of her life, she would never be entirely sure.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



When Lena Meeker arrived at her very first book club meeting, she handed Jen a lovely bottle of Sancerre and a long white pastry box, both of which were slightly damp. With that meticulously flouncy brown layered hair and perfectly applied makeup, Lena sure didn’t look like Cottonwood’s Great Hermit.

And she smelled amazing, like vanilla roses.

“The box got rained on,” Lena said. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be silly,” Jen said. “Annie, how is everything?”

“Fine, fine.” With noticeable effort, Annie forced her mouth into a tight smile. “Sorry again about the scene at Fall Fest.”

“Don’t be. The apology note from Laurel was totally unnecessary—”

“I should introduce Lena around,” Annie said quickly. She placed a proprietary hand on Lena’s shoulder and steered her into the living room.

Jen followed them, and set down Lena’s box on the coffee table. Deb Gallegos was on the couch, wiggling her fingers in greeting.

“How’s Annie doing?” Jen asked.

Deb hiked her eyebrows. “Apoplectic. Poor Laurel will be in lockdown until she’s thirty. I told Annie that they’d all been drinking, including Sierra. Laurel just put on the biggest show.”

Jen nodded.

“They need to be punished, obviously. But we’ve all been there, and we turned out okay, right?”

“Right.”

“Plus”—Deb lowered her voice—“it’s a teensy bit hypocritical because I’ve heard her school stories, and Annie was no saint. So. What do you think is inside that box?”

It sat in front of them on the coffee table, low and long. Pastries of some sort, Jen thought.

“A severed limb,” Jen said, sotto voce.

They both started to chortle at the image: perfect Lena Meeker with the off-the-shoulder cashmere and those giant diamond earrings and the shiny pink manicure getting splattered as she sawed through bone.

“What are you two laughing about?” Janine said. She was carrying a tray of martini glasses filled with Fiona Stolis, which she carefully set down on the coffee table.