Burn Our Bodies Down(38)

“Not at all,” he says automatically, and his smile is warm. “Have you been here long? In town?”

“No,” I say, and if he was talking to the police chief just now, he knows this, but if he wants to pretend I’m just a new family friend, that works for me.

He steps past me, motioning for me to join him in heading back to the kitchen. I do, but slowly. I need more time to bring up Mom.

“How are you liking Fairhaven?” he says.

“It’s all right. I wish I’d seen it before.”

We pass out of the hallway and into a smaller family room, two couches and a fireplace. Mr. Miller comes up next to me, and for a moment we both stop, looking out the large bay window, across the porch and toward Fairhaven.

“My mom never told me much about it,” I say. Mr. Miller is older than Mom—she had me early, after all—but their lives would’ve crossed, at least for a little, especially if he grew up here, and her right there at the house we both can’t take our eyes off. “Did you know her?”

He gives me a once-over. “I assume you mean Jo?”

“Yeah,” I say, and the oddness of the question is buried under the crush of hearing her name. Familiar, living. He knew her. He actually knew her.

“Then yeah,” he says. “A bit, anyway. But she was a kid when I left Phalene for school. And by the time I came back to take over the farm, she was gone. Is she here with you?”

I want to laugh. “No,” I say instead. “It’s just me.”

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about her. They always kept to themselves.”

“Gram and my mom?”

He frowns. “No,” he says, slowly, warily. “Did she not…”

“Not what?” I say, confused, and I watch his mouth drop open.

“Nothing.” He clears his throat. “Let’s get to brunch. I’m starving.”

He doesn’t wait for me, just heads down the hallway. And I follow, but I’m thinking about his expression, how it closed itself up in that way adults’ faces do. How it said, This is not for you. For your own good.

Well. Fuck that.

Back in the kitchen Eli’s half-asleep, his chin propped up on his hand, and Tess is building a stack of pastries, biting her lip as she concentrates. Gram looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, and for a moment I feel bad for her. But then it’s there between us. Secrets kept and covered.

“Tess,” I say, and she jumps, the pastry tower toppling over. “You ready to go?”

A smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Ready for anything. That’s Tess, I think. Game, no matter what. “Remind me where?”

I knew I could count on her. “Around town.”

“Right.” She gets to her feet and steps around me, heading for the door, where a pair of absurdly white sneakers is waiting.

“Do I have to come?” Eli grumbles without opening his eyes. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Here?” Mr. Miller asks. He’s circled to the kitchen island and is busy toasting a bagel, ignoring all the food his wife laid out. “Have we officially adopted you yet, Eli? Your parents might have something to say about that.”

Eli blinks, eyes bleary. “No, they’d be fine with it. I hear I’m expensive.”

“Not as expensive as me,” Tess crows from the door. She’s got one shoe on and is halfway to falling over as she puts on the other. Mr. and Mrs. Miller laugh, so I guess that was a joke, but I don’t talk about money like that. From the look on Gram’s face, neither does she.

“What are you going into town for?” she says, pursing her lips. “You haven’t seen enough of it?” Icy, and stiff, and nothing like the woman this morning who gave me a hug.

“I’m gonna show her the pool,” Tess says. “Also the seedy underbelly. And the black market. The—”

“Yes,” I cut in. “All that.” I just want to get out of here, away from the press of my grandmother’s gaze. Then I can find the gaps in the story, the ones I can get through.

Gram lets out a short breath and gets to her feet. She moves so differently than Mom does. Deliberate and sure. Mom is quick and Mom is sudden, and I wonder if people look at her and me and think we’re as different from each other as she is from Gram.

“I’d rather you just come home with me,” she says. She’s being polite—we’re in company—but I can hear the order she’s wrapping her words around.

I put on my best smile. “I know,” I say. “But it’s my first time visiting. I want to see where my family’s from.”

I can do it too. Pointed and razor-sweet. I will figure this out, whether she likes it or not. I mean, she says she’s being honest. If she is, she has nothing to worry about.

“Margot,” she says, but Tess has the front door open.

“See you later,” I say over my shoulder, just as Tess says, “I’ll have her home by eleven.”

Gram must be seething. She calls my name again, but I don’t care anymore, because Tess is off ahead of me and she can help me figure this out. I don’t have to be on my own.

The door shuts behind us. Bikes in Tess’s garage, both of us laughing, giddy with knowing that Gram could be coming after us. It’s barely a minute before the two of us are pedaling down her driveway. Fairhaven up ahead on the left, faded and yellowed against the bright sky. That’s Gram’s world, and my answers are there—I know they are—but I’ll never get them from her. I have to find another way in.