Neighborly(75)

But instead, Andie turns to Doug and then to me, asking, “Could I be the one to go in next? I haven’t seen Kat or Sadie in days.”

“Sure.” Doug smiles at her like she’s a real gem. He continues to ignore me.

“I’ll go in afterward,” I say quickly.

Andie picks up a bulging canvas bag from one of the chairs. “I brought Kat some things.” She holds up items one at a time, brandishing them like a spokesmodel. There’s pricey shampoo, conditioner, and body wash; a travel-size blow-dryer; and layers of clothes (T-shirts, a lightweight cardigan, and yoga pants, all of them expensive with the tags still on). So Kat can smell—and dress—like Andie.

The way Andie’s looking at Doug, and that bag for Kat . . . If I didn’t know Andie better, if I wasn’t so sure of her love for Nolan, I’d think something strange was going on. But what I know and what I’ll tell Kat are two very different things.

“I also brought energy drinks and snacks, and some books and toys for Sadie,” Andie continues.

“Looks like you thought of everything!” Doug says admiringly.

He’s not talking about me, but he should have been.





CHAPTER 27

KAT

“Could I hold her?” she asks.

I’m surprised by my reaction, which is nearly feral. I clutch Sadie in an involuntary spasm, a protective instinct. No, a maternal instinct.

She takes it in stride. “Now that she’s finally better, I can understand you not wanting to let go of her,” she says.

We’re both wearing our masks, which serves to intensify our eye contact. I just feel like I know her. She’s here for me, and I need that. Especially after Andie’s visit, which was unsettling to say the least. All those questions about how Doug’s holding up, how our marriage is holding up, but nothing about how I’m holding up. And that mini-me bag. It all felt off.

But the woman in front of me right now, the woman who’s been coming here every day to support me, she’s truly my friend. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away. She’s got nothing to hide.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say. I peer down at Sadie, who has fallen asleep. Slowly and carefully, I transfer her back to the Plexiglas cube. “She drank my milk this morning.”

“Awesome!”

“It really was. It’s like, she’s becoming herself again. For a while there, she just disappeared. She was just a body. But now it’s like her spirit has flown back in. Her soul. Not that I’m religious or anything.”

“I get what you mean.”

I feel like she does, that’s the thing.

I should be in a great mood. Sadie’s getting better. Soon, she should be coming home. Only I know, in my heart, that the AV should not be our home.

Doug feels differently, and we had an argument behind the curtain, conducted entirely in heated whispers. He told me we shouldn’t make any rash decisions, that lots of people would kill to be where we are. I told him that maybe someone tried to—that maybe it’s not a coincidence that Sadie got so sick, after we’ve been getting all those notes. That’s when he told me I was being crazy. And that’s when I told him that he might want to stay there for more than the school system, that maybe he wants to stay for the women. He stormed out.

But is it really so crazy? I have someone here who might know.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest,” I say. “Ever since the block party, I’ve been getting these notes.”

“What kind of notes?”

“The first one said, ‘That wasn’t very neighborly of you.’”

“Do you know what they were talking about?”

I shake my head. “They just kept coming. They were more antagonistic and personal and threatening. Like someone had a vendetta against me. Doug wants to believe they’re harmless, like a prank or something.”

She’s nodding slowly. I can’t tell if she’s surprised.

“Do you know anything about the letters? Who might have written them?”

She shakes her head.

“Have you heard anything? Anyone who has a problem with me?”

Another headshake.

“I saved the notes,” I say. “I can show you if you want.”

“No, I believe you. I’m just thinking . . .”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m just thinking how incredibly awful that must have been for you. You’re a new mom, in your new neighborhood, and someone’s targeting you.”

My eyes tear up. She gets it, when my own husband doesn’t. “It has been awful.”

“And scary. I mean, you don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“Do you have any reason to think that any of our neighbors are dangerous or violent?”

“No. No reason.”

But she doesn’t sound as sure as I would have hoped. She’s taking me seriously, and that’s actually even scarier.

“Sadie’s a lot better,” I say, looking around, wanting to knock on wood but realizing we’re surrounded by metal, “but they still don’t know what landed her here. By process of elimination, they’re assuming it’s a virus, but they don’t know which one or how she picked it up.”