The Neighbor's Secret(65)

“You saw what you wanted to see.”

“Laurel’s a sweet kid, Abe. She’s not Harper French, and if you can’t maintain a friendship with her, then—”

“Laurel is more like Harper French than you think. Remember how Harper used to smile and feign kindness only to lure me into the group so they could be really mean to me?”

“You’re saying that Laurel lures you into a group to be mean?” Jen looked around the empty room. “What group?”

“Laurel has ulterior motives. She is false pretense personified.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“I’m happy to stop talking about it.”

“What happened?”

“I told her to leave.”

“But why? Was there a disagreement? Did you ask Colin to help mediate whatever it was?”

“Colin.” Abe snorted. “I’ve started to doubt his intelligence.”

“Abe, you get stuck in patterns with people, and if you don’t learn how to change them—”

“Then I won’t have a pretend friend like Laurel, who excels at acting all phony-nice.”

“After his appointment, I’m sure Colin will help smooth things over, whatever this is.”

“What appointment?”

“Remember, for his ulcer? Mrs. Gallegos got him an appointment with that doctor and he’s taking the next couple of days off.”

“What ulcer?”

“Abe! He’s been walking around like this.” Jen hunched over in pain. “How did you miss it?”

“I don’t need him to smooth things over. I have a plan.”

Jen felt light-headed. She gripped the molding around his doorway for support.

“It’s legal,” Abe clarified. “On a literal level, no one will be harmed.”

“They better not be, if you have any desire to get your hands on that monitor.”

Abe scowled at her. “You always side with everyone else. It’s a bit unmaternal. And no matter what you think, I have the right to express my anger.”

“Anger about what?”

“Using people is not okay, and Laurel needs to understand that.”

“Using you? But for what?”

“This conversation is going nowhere,” he said.

Jen couldn’t really argue with that.





CHAPTER FORTY



“I’m sorry,” Rachel Meeker said. Her face filled the phone screen. Her heavy eyebrows were lifted in confusion. “I’m trying to reach my mom?”

“She’s right here.” Annie swung the phone around so Rachel could see Lena. “I’m her friend Annie.”

“Okay?” Rachel’s lips bent in a small polite smile.

She looked fine, Annie decided. Her hair had been chopped very short, which required confidence, didn’t it? Her eyes were big and dark and worried, but that was probably because Annie was gawking at her.

“Has your mom told you about this party she’s throwing for Laurel? Oops, you probably don’t know who Laurel is, she’s my daughter. You haven’t met her yet, why would you have, that’d be silly, what a silly thing for me to say.”

“Yes,” Rachel said slowly.

Yes what?

Annie was aware she was talking too much, but Rachel wasn’t saying enough. “If I look familiar,” Annie said, “we were on swim team together a million years ago. You were like, seven or something.”

“I don’t remember,” Rachel said. Her chin had receded into her neck. “I’m sorry, I just don’t remember.”



* * *



When Lena snatched back her phone, there was mild surprise in Annie’s eyes.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” Lena said to Rachel. She smiled reassuringly—you did just fine.

“Okay,” Rachel said in a meek voice.

“She seems great,” Annie said hesitantly, after Lena hung up. “Was it … okay that I picked up?”

“Fine,” Lena said. “She’s always been a little shy.”

Annie seemed to accept the fabrication, but Lena recognized Rachel’s behavior and it wasn’t shyness.

After the funeral, during Rachel’s final weeks at their house, she’d run upstairs when cars pulled into their driveway, freeze at the doorbell rings of people dropping off their casseroles.

She’d been so petrified of exposing Lena. I’m worried the truth will spill out of me, she’d said.

After all of this time and distance, Rachel was still scarred by how Lena forced her to lie. And obedient enough to continue to do it.

It was heartbreaking, but more than a little reassuring, too.


FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER, 1:42 A.M.

Gary meant for Lena to show up just as she was, but Lena was vain enough to take the time to change into her silk pajamas, blot off her night cream, swipe on some mascara, pinch her cheeks.

On her way downstairs, she paused before Rachel’s door for a moment, decided against leaving a note.

There was no point. Lena would be back before Rachel woke up, and no one ever needed to see her parent like this, so free and elated.

When Lena walked into the kitchen for her car keys, the oven clock said 1:52. They were by the fridge, right where she’d tossed them after a last-minute errand to buy extra white rum for the party.