In Harmony(81)

Need to change up rehearsal today he wrote. Act 4, instead of 3.3

Translation: Running late, see you at 4 instead of 3:30.

My thumbs flew. Sounds good.

A2 he wrote.

A pleasant shiver rippled through me and I bit my lip over my smile.

S2 I typed back and tucked my phone away.





I showered, dressed in a pretty, pale pink sundress that came just above my knee, and jogged downstairs for breakfast. My mother sat at the kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine. It was only quarter after seven, but Dad had been at work for hours already. The Wilkinsons worked him hard, or maybe he didn’t want to hang around my mother. I couldn’t blame him.

“You’re up early,” I said.

“Spa appointment in Braxton at eight.” She let her magazine drop as I set my bicycle helmet on the counter and rummaged in the cupboard for a glass.

“Really, Willow, that helmet looks so silly. Especially riding a bicycle with a dress on. We can buy you a car. We can afford a car.”

“Don’t want a car.”

“You won’t be saying that next December,” she said. “You know how God-awful it is here in winter.”

I rolled my eyes. Right. Because New York in winter is super fun.

“We’ve been over this a hundred times, Mom. I love the bike. It’s a short trip downtown and to school, and you never have to worry about me needing a ride.”

Not that you ever did before.

For me, a bike was a necessity. My days of using Angie as my taxi service, or to cover for me, were over. I loved her too much to risk getting her in trouble again. And as my body continued its slow thaw of recovery, being outside in the sunshine and getting exercise brought me closer to my idea of normal.

I’ll worry about winter later.

My mother set aside the magazine and flipped through the mail on the counter. “I should’ve known,” she said, an envelope in her hand.

“What’s up?” I asked, pouring some juice.

“The party for Wexx that was set for next week in Indianapolis. It’s canceled. A new one is scheduled in Manhattan over this weekend.”

I froze, the glass at my lips. “Canceled?”

These past weeks, the only dark cloud over my happiness with Isaac was the Wexx party and Xavier Wilkinson being there.

My mother sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the attendees RSVP’d no and Wexx came to its senses.”

Usually my mother’s prejudice against the Midwest made my skin itch, but today I hardly heard her.

“So,” I carefully set the glass down. “The Wilkinsons aren’t coming here?”

“Willow, are you listening to me? Why would they come here if the party’s been relocated? It’s back in Manhattan. We’re all invited, of course—”

“I can’t go. I have too much schoolwork and the play is getting close to opening night. You guys go ahead. Have a great time.”

“Okay,” Mom said, drawing out the word. “You’re awfully agreeable. More like your old self.”

I shrugged.

“In fact… The last time I remember you like this was…last summer? Right around the time of your birthday.” She frowned, thinking. “Willow.”

“Yeah?”

Her delicate brows came together, her manicured fingers drummed on the counter in that way she did when an unpleasant thought occurred to her.

I held my breath. I could almost see her—finally—putting together the events of last summer. Meeting Xavier at the Wexx Fourth of July party. Me telling her how we’d hit it off. How she’d been so happy because he was “the right kind of young man” for me. She didn’t know about the birthday party I’d thrown for myself a few weeks later, of course, but she knew I didn’t talk about Xavier anymore after that. It was all right there.

“Willow,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You understand the Wilkinsons are very important to this family? Your father’s been a loyal employee to Wexx, and despite the move here, they’ve been good to us.”

My voice went dry, and I could only nod.

“With that in mind, is there anything that you want to tell me?”

It was painful to hear the words creak out of her mouth. What was I supposed to do with them? Tell her the truth and bring her entire lifestyle crashing down? For an accusation that had no evidence, not even my own clear memory?

There was nothing to be done about it, especially since Xavier wasn’t coming anywhere near my adopted state anytime soon. I had grabbed a little piece of happiness with Isaac. I wasn’t about to let it go.

“No, Mom,” I said and kissed her on the top of her head. “Got to run, I’ll be late for school.”

She patted her hair where I’d kissed her with an irritated sigh. But her fingernails had ceased to drum. “Have a nice day. Don’t be too late coming back from rehearsal. My God, it seems like you live at that theater.”

“The show is in two weeks,” I said. “We have tech rehearsals and full run-throughs coming up this week, and dress rehearsal next week…”

But she’d already gone back to her magazine.





After school, I killed time riding my bike around Harmony, waiting for Isaac to be done with work. I biked to The Cottages first. It formed one corner of my triangle of favorite places: The Cottages, the HCT, and the hedge maze.