Want to Know a Secret? (31)

She shoots me a look as she says that. I shift uneasily. Could she be the one who threw a rock through my window? I wouldn’t put it past her.

Just as all three women reach over to take lemon bars, I see Sean Cooper jogging over to me. He waves his hand to get my attention and calls out my name. It’s hard not to notice him.

Carrie nudges my elbow. “I wonder what Maria’s hot husband wants to talk to you about.”

And then Kathy shoots me another look. “Yes. I wonder.”

Oh God.

“April!” Sean slows to a stop in front of us. “I’m glad I caught you.”

I smile at him. “Hi, Sean. Would you like a lemon bar?”

He looks down at the Tupperware container filled with my lemon bars. I make amazing lemon bars. My secret is that I put lemon zest both in the curd and also in the crust.

“That’s okay,” he finally says.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Listen,” Sean interrupts me. “Have you seen Raffey?”

Have I what? “Who?”

“Raffey.” He smiles apologetically. “That’s Owen’s favorite toy. You know, the giraffe. We can’t seem to find it anywhere, and Owen was freaking out last night.”

“That’s terrible!” I say.

I consider suggesting this is an opportunity for Owen not to be so dependent on a stuffed animal. He is seven years old, after all. But somehow, I don’t think Sean will appreciate it.

“So anyway…” Sean scratches the back of his neck. “I was wondering if maybe Owen left it at Bobby’s house?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I haven’t seen it.”

“Well, maybe you could check his room.”

I clutch the Tupperware to my chest. “Why would Bobby have it in his room?”

Sean’s ears turn slightly pink. “I’m not saying he took Raffey from Owen, but—”

“April, remember when Bobby took Leo’s Ninja Turtle?” Julie speaks up.

“That was three years ago. They were four.” My cheeks burn. I can’t believe they’re accusing my son of stealing Owen’s toy. Why would he steal a stupid stuffed giraffe when he’s got a Nintendo, for God’s sake? “I’ll ask Bobby about it. But I don’t think he would steal Owen’s favorite toy.”

“I’m just thinking Owen might have left the toy there,” Sean says. “Will you check for me, April?”

“Of course.” I force a smile, trying to make light of the whole thing. “But only if you try one of my lemon bars.”

Sean takes a step back, like he thinks my lemon bars might be made of poison. “Um…”

“I promise. They’re delicious.”

Julie rolls her eyes. “For goodness sakes, April, you don’t need to bulldoze the poor guy into eating your food!”

Everyone is suddenly looking at me as I feel my cheeks turning pink. Thankfully, the bell rings at that moment and the kids start filtering out. I still don’t know what I’m going to do with all these lemon bars and cookies. But if Sean doesn’t want any, far be it from me to force him.

Sometimes the kids play together after school, but not today. I hear Sean telling Owen they’re going to the park, but he doesn’t invite Bobby like he sometimes does. Julie and Kathy are talking together quietly with their boys running just ahead of them. I wonder if they’re going to have a playdate. Usually, Julie invites me over after school, but she’s hardly done it at all since the year started.

“Mom,” Bobby says. “Can I go over to Leo’s house?”

“I don’t think so,” I mumble.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s busy.”

“No, he’s not. He told me he wasn’t busy.”

“Well, his mom is busy. Anyway, we’re not invited.”

“Can’t you ask his mom?

Bobby has an amazing ability to never ever let anything go, but I manage to nudge him in the direction of my SUV. “Bobby,” I say, “have you seen Owen’s toy, Raffey?”

Bobby groans. “No! Owen kept talking about it all day. He’s obsessed with that stupid toy.”

I wonder where Bobby learned the word “obsessed.” Probably from me. “So you haven’t seen it?”

“Nope.”

I still feel irritated that Sean basically accused Bobby of stealing that silly giraffe. Why would he even want it? He has much better toys than that at home. Like I said, he has a Nintendo!

Bobby complains incessantly about wanting a playdate, but I manage to coax him into the car. He pouts the entire way. By the time I pull into our driveway, I’m pretty much ready to snap. And then I see the woman standing at our front door.

The woman looks familiar, but I can’t quite place her. But she doesn’t look dangerous. She’s in her fifties, with graying hair and a thick layer of padding on her abdomen. When she sees my car, she waves.

I have no idea who she is, but obviously, she knows who I am.

“Hello,” I say as I get out of the car. I try to push away an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Can I help you?”

The woman nods eagerly. “April, right?”

“Yes…”